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yourmoonie · 4 months

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How to manifest an SP

The Neville Goddard way and my interpretation:

Neville:

“When I decided to marry the lady who now bears my name, I applied this principle. At the time, I was terribly involved. I had married at the age of eighteen and became a father at nineteen. We separated that year, but I never sought a divorce; therefore, my separation was not legal in the state of New York.”

Moonie:

Neville had specific circumstances in front of him:

- He wasn't legally divorced

- The Ancient laws of the New York city were getting on his way of marrying his 2nd wife

Neville:

“Sixteen years later, when I fell in love and wanted to marry my present wife, I decided to sleep as though we were married. While sleeping, physically in my hotel room, I slept imaginatively in an apartment, she in one bed and I in the other. My dancing partner did not want me to marry, so she told my wife that I would be seeking a divorce and to make herself scarce – which she did, taking up residence in another state. But I persisted! Night after night I slept in the assumption that I was happily married to the girl I love."

Moonie:

As you can see, despite the annoying circumstances, Neville still believed in his imagination even if his 1st wife wasn't around, even if his 1st wife didn't sign the divorce papers, he still believed in his imagination more than his 3D or his human senses. He slept in the assumption that he was happily married to the girl he loved even if his 3D was showing him the opposite.

Neville:

“Within a week I received a call requesting me to be in court the next Tuesday morning at 10:00 A.M., giving me no reason why I should be there, I dismissed the request, thinking it was a hoax played on me by a friend. So the next Tuesday morning at 9:30 A.M.I was unshaved and only casually dressed, when the phone rang and a lady said: “It would be to your advantage, as a public figure, to be in court this morning, as your wife is on trial. “What a shock! I quickly thanked the lady, caught a taxi, and arrived just as the court began. My wife had been caught lifting a few items from a store in New York City, which she had not paid for. Asking to speak on her behalf I said: “She is my wife and the mother of my son. Although we have been separated for sixteen years, as far as I know, she has never done this before and I do not think she will ever do it again. We have a marvellous son. Please do nothing to her to reflect in any way upon our son, who lives with me. If I may say something, she is eight years my senior and may be passing through a certain emotional state which prompted her to do what she did. If you must sentence her, then please suspend it.”

Moonie:

Despite the fact that his 1st wife was "running away" from signing the divorce papers or facing Neville so he could marry his second wife, Neville didn't hold any grudges against his ex wife because he believed that his imagination was greater than anything. So Neville experienced a very unique bridge of events, which then later on led him to get whatever he wanted in his 3D

Neville:

“The judge then said to me, “In all of my years on the bench I have never heard an appeal like this. Your wife tells me you want a divorce, and here you could have tangible evidence for it, yet you plead for her release.” He then sentenced her for six months and suspended the sentence. My wife waited for me at the back of the room and said: “Neville, that was a decent thing to do. Give me the subpoena and I will sign it.” We took a taxi together and I did that which was not legal: I served my own subpoena and she signed it. “Now, who was the cause of her misfortune? She lived in another state but came to New York City to do an act for which she was to be caught and tried.

Moonie:

See? She was in another state, but when she came to New York, she was "forced" to do a specific act, which later on became Neville's bridge of events to marrying his 2nd wife. Neville focused on the desire, aka marrying his 2nd wife and not the circumstances (the divorce papers).

Neville:

So, I say: every being in the world will serve your purpose, so in the end, you will say: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." “They will move under compulsion to do your will, just as my wife did.” “I tell this story only to illustrate a principle. You do not need to ask anyone to aid you in the answer to a prayer, for the simple reason that God is omnipotent and omniscient. He is in you as your own wonderful I Am ness. Everyone on the outside is your servant, your slave, ready and able to do your will.“

Moonie:

So if people have to move for you, then THEY WILL. Do you want your desire to get externalized faster? Forget about the timing and "trying" and start BEING. If 5000 people have to move for you in order for you to get your desire in a materialized way then they will have to run for you

Neville:

“All you need do is know what you want, Construct a scene which would imply the fulfilment of your desire. Enter the scene and remain there. If your imaginal counsellor (your feeling of fulfilment) agrees with that which is used to illustrate your fulfilled desire, your fantasy will become a fact. If it does not, start all over again by creating a new scene and enter it. In my own case the scene was a bedroom of an apartment, with my wife in one bed and I in the other, denoting that I was no longer living in a hotel alone. I fell asleep in that state, and within one week I had the necessary papers to start action on a divorce.“

Moonie:

You really don't need to beg, or lift up a finger to get whatever you want. Don't focus on the problem, focus on the solution, don't focus on the circumstance, focus on the end goal.

He really proved himself that all he needed to do was to stay true to his imagination.

Do you want your shit faster?

- go straight to the end, accept that your desire is yours (has already been externalized and is yours)

- stand firm

- forgive yourself, forgive the people in your reality bcs they are just playing their roles in your reality.

- It is not your job to worry about "the how" or "the when", your job is to define+decide your desire, then believe and trust yourself that its already yours

Because THERE IS NO SEPARATION

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booksandabeer · 11 months

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Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #fandom culture #i once again have no idea what to tag this #fanfiction forever #fanart forever

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glitteringcrab · 5 months

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Evil Morty and the other Mortys (part 2)

A continuation of this blog.

Theory 7: Internalized victim blaming

Evil Morty is not the only Morty acting extremely harsh to other Mortys. We've already seen random Mortys in the Citadel being jerks to other Mortys.

1) Mortys in Morty Town seem to be particularly aggressive towards Cop Morty. It's unclear if it's because he's a cop (and therefore they're equally aggressive to Cop Rick), or if it's because a Morty accompanied by a Rick. Or if they are aggressive to Cop Rick because he dared enter Morty Town. It could be all of the above.

Cop Morty, in turn, returns the favor.

Here we have a Morty who dares to utter the phrase "Mortys are human!" (I mean... is it a matter of debate?! YIKES)

And he gets (a) called a "Rickless animal" (b) electrocuted for his trouble.

Soon after, we see Cop Morty:

(d) electrocuting another Morty for absolutely no reason:

Note that the derogative insults obviously apply to Cop Morty as well. He, too, is a Rickless Morty, as he keeps making clear that Cop Rick is simply his partner, not his Rick. And he might wear a uniform right now, but at some point in the past he definitely wore a yellow shirt.

2) AT THE SAME TIME, having a Rick is also an insult:

(and things escalate fast)

3) Initially, Cop Morty was capable of overplaying his "Mortyness" to other Mortys...

...who also did the exact same thing to him, before making fun of him:

Mortys are also overplaying their Mortyness to Ricks...

...which apparently is a thing that happens often, judging from Cop Morty's immediate explanation:

Cop Morty tries the exact same technique against his partner... (and it's clear at this point that Cop Morty actually liked Cop Rick... but doing as Cop Rick was asking him to do would have serious consequences for him, so Cop Morty put his own well-being first)

However, Cop Rick is wise to this trick by now, and so he is ready. He shoots first.

4) Mortys are quick to throw other innocent Mortys under the bus, so that they can escape:

Here is a description of the Mortys responsible for the perpetration of the store robbery:

No noteworthy features. Just four normal Mortys.

And here is a picture of the Morty Town Locos:

They have facial tatoos... THEY DIDN'T ROB THAT STORE.

5) Cop Morty is ready to go to extreme measures to erase every trace of the Morty Town Locos:

Do any of the above sound familiar?

Derogative terms to other Mortys...

...including self...! (pretty justifiably though, in this case)

2. Getting angry at the suggestion that he is accompanying a Rick:

3. Overplaying his Mortyness

4. Throwing innocent Mortys under the bus:

5. Going to extreme measures for your own well-being...

They're all textbook variations of the things Evil Morty has been doing.

Which makes sense. After all, if he is one of the many excess clones in the Citadel, then his experiences must be similar to the experiences of the other unwanted Mortys, and they should have similar reactions. The only difference between them is that his actions have been careful, calculated and ultimately successful (and, uh, excessive), whilst theirs have been uncoordinated and heated.

If we take into account all of the above, it seems to me that there might be a lot of internalized victim-blaming among the excess Mortys of the Citadel.

If they partner with a Rick, they're sell-out yellowshirt Mortys who throw away their self-respect in favor of Ricks' interests, who choose to turn a blind eye to all the atrocities Ricks have been committing, who worship an undeserving being all for the sake of a mocking semblance of family, encouraging other Mortys to engage in the same self-destructive act. They want to be a human shield. (They might as well be a human shield, then...)

If they don't partner with a Rick they have very few tools in their disposal to survive. They have to become as ruthless and unforgiving as their surroundings. They have to become their own Rick, so that they can catch up to their Rick-full environment. And the Mortys who choose to not do that? It's their fault for being weak and emotional and not doing what needs to be done. I mean, think of it. Evil Morty overpowered his Rick simply by making him drunk. Literally every Morty could do that, if they wanted. They just choose not to. Morty Prime can disassemble neutrino bombs. My bet is he could assemble one too, if he wanted. He could easily kill a black-out drunk Rick C-137, if he decided to. Or he could try to find a way to keep Rick in stasis, so that he doesn't return via Operation Phoenix. But he doesn't. He chooses to let the abuse keep happening to him, so he's deserving of his fate.

(I mean, not really, of course, but I can totally see Ricks mocking their Mortys for not having the guts to stand up for themselves and claiming that Mortys want the abusive relationship to continue... otherwise, why even enlist in a Morty Agency, if not because you want more of the same?)

(At the same time, Ricks manipulate Mortys into believing they're selfish for trying to set boundaries... Into believing they're evil for not putting Ricks' wellbeing first.) (might as well actually be evil then, huh)

...I'm glad the Citadel's gone.

#rick and morty #evil morty

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Blasphemous Rumors - II

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Marriage of convenience. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Available on AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

“Marry me.”

Your head snapped up from the ledger, a finger sliding across the paper to hold your place. Just when you were piecing something together, too.

“I’m sorry, Lord Harbinger?”

Did Dottore just…demand you marry him?

He said it with such blasé that you weren’t certain you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you in your office but several pairs of eyes tried and failed not to stare. Your coworkers tried hard and failed to look busy, shuffling papers and talking only low enough to give the illusion that they were minding their own business.

No, you had heard exactly right. And so had everyone else.

Panic seared through you, turning your blood to ice. Did Lord Pantalone know all along about you passing off information and had asked Lord Dottore to finish you off? The Second Harbinger was known for his…eccentricities, after all, but…proposing to random members of staff…

He was dead serious and annoyed at your question, judging from the thin line of his mouth. He leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope.

Dottore pressed his hands flat against the surface of your desk and came closer still, closer than he’d ever been in any capacity previously. You could smell the lingering scent of disinfectant along with mint and something muskier, his mask almost stabbing your nose.

What the actual fuck was he doing?

“Just for a year,” he clarified at last, voice low enough for only you to hear. “A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.”

Marriage wasn’t exactly something to simply spring on a person. For a Harbinger, you imagined that, if it ever happened, it was strategic and political. Lord Dottore was potentially not even at liberty to offer his hand in marriage to begin with and therefore…

“Are you well, sir?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then you should know that this is neither the time nor the place for such a thing. You are causing a scene.”

The very air between you seemed to have dropped several degrees and you heard even less chatter from the surrounding offices as the words left your lips. By now, everyone was listening. You held little doubt that Lord Pantalone himself had been informed and was somewhere in the main lobby, watching the entire affair like an act of an opera.

Would you end up like your predecessor, your guts splattered across the carpet? Remembered as the one who refused to answer the Second Harbinger’s demands?

Lord Dottore let out a breath through his nose but straightened to his full height, putting the usual professional distance between you again. If he were anyone else, the anxiety that sat deep in your chest, clawing at your throat, would have relented. He pulled his arms behind his back, the feathers of the bird mantle across his shoulders shuddering with the motion.

“I see. Then I shall return when your work is done for the day. In the meanwhile, consider it. Thank you for your usual diligence.”

He turned heel and left without another word. It was so quiet that you swore you heard someone’s hairpin drop three offices down the hall. Your heart hammered in your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears. Whispers swarmed the office as soon as the elevator chimed closed and you inhaled sharply as Lord Pantalone came into view from your doorway, his eyes fixed on the elevators before he turned his attention to you.

Your boss regarded you with a golden stare that gave away nothing except the slightest hint of curiosity, a dark brow arching so subtly that you thought it was a trick of the afternoon sunlight. Dread wrenched up from the pit of your stomach and gripped your heart. It was the same look that he had given the appeal to your parents’ plea for leniency, for reconsideration of their loan rate. You kept your face as impartial as possible, willed your hand to relax before you broke your pen.

Lord Pantalone said nothing but offered an enigmatic smile that you longed to wipe off of his ridiculously well-kept visage with your knuckles. Before you could say anything, he turned back to the absurdly quiet lobby and to your colleagues, all of whom were milling around in anticipation.

His eyes closed as his smile grew wider and he said, in the most saccharine voice, “Don’t you all have work to do?”

Agreements chimed from all sides and the office hummed with energy again. It didn’t stop the looks over shoulders, the whispers, but you never expected it to.

Your boss disappeared again and you returned to the ledger in front of you briefly before deciding your lunch break couldn’t come at a better time.

__________________________

Lord Dottore did, in fact, return.

You’d only just made a fresh cup of coffee, strong enough to keep you going for the next few hours, and wished your last colleague goodnight before settling in with the ledger from earlier. It was too risky to do more than review anything during the day and the excuse of overtime was like a blanket on a cold day, the perfect protection.

Not every day, of course. Too much overtime would raise questions. Once or twice a week was enough to actually catch up on work and make any handwritten copies as needed.

This ledger outlined a particular noble’s outstanding balances but they seemed lower than they should have been. The cash flow didn’t make sense. A Snezhayan noble who might be funneling his money out of Snezhnaya was indicative of something.

What, you couldn’t quite tell; then again, it wasn’t your job to analyze, merely observe and pass along potential leads.

Between your usual workload and the additional information you were hunting for, you’d given little thought to the previous events from earlier. Lord Dottore had called the idea an experiment but you couldn’t help but wonder why and what, precisely, he would gain from being married for a single year to an absolute stranger.

Or, rather, acquaintance. He knew who you were, in the roughest sense anyone could expect of the Second Harbinger.

What you stood to gain from such an experiment wasn’t lost on you. Any Harbinger connection was nothing to sneeze at and being the Second’s spouse probably came with more than you even considered. Even afterwards, assuming you survived to tell the tale, those who served well were rewarded generously.

Your parents’ debt could be settled and their records wiped clean.

But that still meant marrying a Harbinger. Temporarily.

Ingratiating yourself further into the very system that put you here to begin with. But information would be readily accessible. Boundaries could be pushed with a mere assertion of position.

Passing it along would be far more difficult though.

And the Second Harbinger was not a man anyone wanted to piss off. He’d killed Krupp for far less, you heard.

Lord Dottore clearly expected a ‘yes’ or at least a very well-thought-out declination.

You pushed your personal copies into an envelope just as you heard the elevator bank chime and the muted cadence of metal tapping carpet. Instead of his usual attire, you were surprised to find the Lord Harbinger had abandoned his coat and the mechanical bird. He still wore his gloves and the ridiculously obnoxious metal ornaments over a deep blue shirt, held close by a leather harness around his torso.

It’s not like the harness was ever inconspicuous, of course—the ring and choker portion were never hidden by his cravat, after all.

Did that one lock of hair always curl around his earring like that, you wondered.

“I did not expect you to be the last person to leave for the night,” he said by way of greeting.

“Disappointed you didn’t get to scare my colleagues again, Lord Harbinger?”

“Lord Pantalone takes care of that well enough, I’m certain.”

You gestured to the chairs in front of your desk and for the first time in several months, he actually took a seat after closing your office door. Part of you expected him to extend his long legs and place his boots onto your desk but instead he crossed one ankle over his knee and settled back into the chair, hands clasped; he was never without his usual self-assured arrogance but at least he knew his boundaries, you assessed.

His head was angled down, perhaps looking at his hands for a second, before he angled his head to look at you. Damn that mask. At least Lord Pantalone went without obscuring his face, metaphorical though his mask was.

“Have you given further thought to my offer?” Dottore asked.

“Am I allowed to ask questions? Or are you simply looking for an answer, sir?”

He lifted his clasped hands and opened them slightly before settling them down in his lap, a silent offer to speak further. You took a sip of coffee in an attempt to steel your nerves first.

“I was under the impression matrimony was reserved for the Tsaritsa’s discretion, firstly, in which case I’d rather not be on the receiving end of her ire. If that’s not the case, why me? And why would you put such a short window on what you are thinking of as simply another experiment? It doesn’t seem very like you to put limitations on anything.”

You caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, his grin a little wider than you usually saw it.

“The Tsaritsa has no say either way. We may be the enforcers of Her Will but we are not without autonomy. As for the time-frame, it is not my stipulation. Rather, it is the position I find myself in. No doubt, in part, due to your great diligence in terms of tracking my spending and lack of return on investment.”

So he did blame you. Shit.

He opened his hands again, gesturing slightly for emphasis as he continued.

“If I can commit myself to another for a single year, Lord Pantalone will approve whatever budget I wish, carte blanche. Only for a year and it has to be someone whose name I know. If I fail, every Segment is subject to stricter budgeting and I cannot afford more barriers between me and my research. The Nation quite literally depends on half of the technology I have developed, never mind Her Most Noble Majesty’s wishes.”

Lord Pantalone would do such a thing, you well knew. He enjoyed the positions that his power and his money could put people in. And even those who were business partners were not exempt from it. Much as the Second had little limitations on his own work, you knew enough between your work and the contracts your parents signed to know that Lord Pantalone was very much the same.

But Lord Dottore deserved to have a taste of failure every once in a while and bear the consequences of his actions.

The Fatui was one giant house of wolves. They should eat one another once in a while, you thought dismissively.

Besides, a lot of people knew your name. That Lord Dottore did was, you supposed, an honor considering how little he cared for anyone or anything. But you were his accountant. It probably stemmed from enough respect to be civil to get what he wanted and you never thought much of it.

Dottore continued. “Such a situation does lend itself to an interesting social experiment, admittedly, and thus I am…curious. Not quite as controlled as I prefer: a year is almost nothing in terms of time; there’s far too many variables. But life is a series of experiences. I would be remiss to not seek out new ones.“

“Why would I agree to something that would put me out of a job once my name is dry on the divorce papers?”

That was assuming, of course, that you survived at all, but you weren’t going to tempt fate.

Truthfully, you hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming with the information. And it must have shown on your face. The grin reappeared again with a flash of teeth and Dottore gave a low laugh.

“Dear Accountant, you stand to gain far more than me. But you are the perfect test subject.”

“Because you know my name?”

Dottore uncrossed his legs, planted his feet on the floor, and leaned forward. His humor was all but gone as he pressed his hands flat against your desk again.

“And here I thought you might actually be clever. If I’m going to do this ridiculous farce, I cannot actually seek out a proper spouse to match my station. Not without destroying several political connections and throwing off what is already a delicate balance between the Tsaritsa and the Court. You have an understanding of the Fatui, work for a Harbinger, and I tolerate you enough to converse with you for longer periods than most.”

He tapped your desk with his middle finger on every point, as if everything was already charted out in a diagram.

“Most importantly, you don’t tremble in my presence like everyone else. A spouse who fears me would be a liability to both my status and work. You’re an asset. Surely that’s something even you can understand.”

Not that you liked being compared to something to be owned and preserved to retain value but you could see his point. Negotiations never involved revealing one's cards, not all of them, and you couldn’t quite understand what you might not be seeing.

Divorce settlements among nobility were, you well knew, generous. Mora didn’t solve everything but it would remove the lien on the tiny home and workshop, stop the debt collectors from threatening your father, and clear out the remaining balances owed.

Forever branded as the Second Harbinger’s ex-wife; it was less a badge of honor and more the mark of an outcast. Once that title settled over you, all trust would be gone, along with the power that came with status and rank.

You stood to lose a lot, you thought. A quick rise and a high fall.

“You didn’t answer my question, Lord Harbinger. If you are successful, I will be, at best, given a different position but I will also bear the title of divorcee for the rest of my life once everything is over. A year to help you comes at a very high cost for me. A year’s worth of social standing is not worth that risk.”

“Then take the time frame out of the equation for all I care. That suits me even better.”

“But you said—”

“I never said anything about divorce, just that the marriage needed to last a year. If you’re willing to go beyond that time, then I see no issue with it; a long term experiment might be fun, after all. Just don’t be obvious with any indiscretions.”

You flinched slightly, cheeks warming.

“I’m hardly the most pleasant man, Accountant. I wouldn’t demand a marital bed from someone who agreed to this nor expect one to be celibate if it does not suit them.”

You bit your tongue, swallowing a retort that was, at best, tasteless, and at worst, attention-seeking. You couldn’t believe you were still entertaining this, let alone finding the newer terms agreeable.

But it would put you at a better advantage; that was undeniable. More confidential information meant more money and you wouldn’t have to rely on Dottore’s coffers. No matter who you married, if ever, you remained determined to be self-reliant in that regard. And you got the sense that the less you needed to bother Dottore, the better.

Nothing would be more satisfying than taking the Fatui down from the inside.

You thought of your parents, toiling away at a debt they would never be able to repay; a debt that would be passed onto you. Your father couldn’t keep it up forever, not with the way his cough sounded according to…

None of this was about you. You had long accepted that. But you might as well be useful.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you said at last. “I’ll marry you.”

Dottore smiled, hiding his teeth and tilting his head to the side. In any other situation, you would have considered it almost charming.

“I’m glad you came to see reason, Accountant.”

He reached towards your collection of fountain pens and pulled the silver letter opener you kept there out from its brethren. It was shaped like a sword, an imitation of a Fontainian broadsword you saw on display for all of ten minutes. He twirled the letter opener between his fingers, as if testing its weight, and then pressed the blade to your cheek.

You felt a sharp sting, not unlike that of a paper cut, just enough to be naggingly painful. Dottore tapped your nose with the flat of the letter opener.

“Bear in mind, I will address any and all threats to my station, my research, and my goals as I see fit. No matter who they come from.”

“I would expect no less, Lord Harbinger.”

“As long as we understand one another.”

Your gut knotted itself as your mind raced. He didn’t know, you told yourself. He didn’t know about your parents, about the desperate actions you’d taken over the years, about the envelope you cast aside containing sensitive information that had yet to be sealed and addressed.

Lord Dottore did things to keep people on their toes. You were no exception.

You looked at him, presumably making eye contact with where you expected his eyes might be behind his mask. He then placed the letter open back into its holder, the glass ringing as the tip reached the bottom. You caught the slightest flash of red as the blade settled.

He rose to his feet and pulled his shoulders back, and you followed suit out of habit. Your hands rested with your fingertips pressed against the desk, unsure of where they should be.

“I will inform the Tsaritsa myself, although She will likely want an audience to assess you. I do not expect her to allow me the sanctity of a private affair; I will leave most of the planning to you, if that’s the case. Have a good evening.”

You nodded, urging yourself to not break eye contact. He left your office without another word and you didn’t exhale until the elevator doors creaked open and shut, signaling you were alone.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, your skin wet and sticky.

It was just business, you reminded yourself. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

__________________________

For someone so well-versed in numbers, calculations, and analysis, she is surprisingly daring. Then again, that’s what makes this subject so intriguing.

My findings shall be recorded here, as usual, but I do not yet have a hypothesis to pose.

I do detest those that tremble and cower, afraid to challenge me because of my reputation, my status.

If one does not ask questions, one will never find the answers they seek. Assuming that one knows everything about this world and those beyond it is foolish; although I am closer to the truth than most, even I know there is more to this realm yet to be discovered.

And without toppling that floating island, that knowledge will never come to light.

Regrator knew what he was doing, offering such a reward for something so trivial. Although I have access to more here than I ever did in that wretched institution, I am still beholden to ridiculous standards that cannot and should not be applied to me. Unlimited funding would provide the other half of what I already have; I have turned time into a commodity, after all, which is one of the largest challenges anyone ever faces in terms of research.

I digress.

The second I realized the individual who might be tolerable enough to endure in the long term, I could think of no other. Regrator’s stipulations were quite stupid; a year was nothing to me and names were even less than. She, at least, seeks to understand a full picture whenever we must interact and I know her name because if I did not, I would never get what I wanted. I would be a piss-poor diplomat if I didn’t know when to learn another’s name, after all.

Quite fascinating that she was so certain I would throw her out into the cold once the first year was up. A year, while easy enough, is hardly sufficient for results.

And if I must bother with this, I might as well get the most out of it. This way, I cannot be leveraged in a political alliance and I can explore, at least in part, what it is so many seem to enjoy out of a union with another.

I never gave it much thought before…it still seems like a waste of time that could be spent elsewhere.

But she is tolerable and even without receipts in front of her, does not back away from asking questions, challenging my perspective.

My younger selves never appreciated that. I’ll need to manage their interactions and set boundaries. Especially that pesky one who killed Krupp.

I can’t exactly have my wife killed by my own hand before I have secured Regrator’s end to our bargain. It would be in poor taste to have her expire at all but surely even she would understand that fine line between an asset and a liability.

My present self finds most people lacking and her presence is a strange routine that I have begun looking forward to.

I suppose that is a better place than any for the foundation of a long-term union.

#il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore x female reader #dottore x female reader #marriage of convenience #idk what else to tag this

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

Text

Untitled Song

An installment in the The Interview universe.

"This is a love song."

"What? No, it's not!" Steve argues, looking back down at the notebook.

"It reads like a love song. The little bit you just sang for me has love song vibes," Robin leans more of her weight onto Steve's back, where she's standing over his shoulder reading the lyrics.

He stares down at the page. "Yeah. Okay. I see it. But, like, I didn't mean it to be all love song vibey."

"I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute," Robin reads in a flat tone, unimpressed.

"Okay! Stop, I don't- I mean- ugh!" Steve slumps forward, resting his forehead on the page of lyrics. "Okay, fine, but like, in context I'm clearly talking about like, reliving my whole life. I would do it all again."

"Did you just say that this is clearly about your whole life because if so, I want to be on the same drugs as you," Robin pushes off of him to move around the table and plop into the chair across from him. She tries her best to level him with a stare, but he doesn't give her the satisfaction by refusing to lift his head. The downside of being soulmates, she decides. He knows what she's going to do and when and can, therefore, avoid it. "Look, I get that he was, like, your first love and high school sweetheart but he couldn't have been that good of a fuck. It was just inexperience that made-"

"Robin!" Steve shouts over her, looking at her now so she can see his scandalized expression. Ha! She takes it back. It's an upside to being soulmates because she knows exactly what to say to rial him up. "It's not about the sex! It's about all of it. Everything. I don't- what Eddie did was shitty and it fucking hurt, but that was ten years ago. This song is about everything."

She doesn't see it that way, but even with how well she's able to read him, Steve's mind has always had its own way of thinking she can't quite nail down. With a sigh, she says, "Alright. Benefit of doubt time. Explain the song to me."

"It's not just about Eddie. It's about my whole life. You know how my parents were, how high their expectations were and how I had to hide almost everything about me while I lived with them. That's the my life was a storm since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane bit. And if I hadn't dated Eddie, like, at all. Well, I was already on the track to being an asshole in elementary school. Can you imagine who I would have been in high school if I was still that kid?

"It's also, like, if Eddie and I had stayed together... If we hadn't- I hadn't broken up with him, would I have met Dustin? Or Lucas and Max? Will or Mike, Nancy, and Jonathan? It's like, the years directly after Hey Steve were absolute dogshit, yeah, but it brought me all the people I love now," Steve looks down to the page again, either avoiding her eye contact or finding it too much. She's not sure which one. "If Eddie and I had stayed together there was only option for my future. Once the car had been fully put in my name, I'd have told Eddie to pick a city and we'd have left, for Eddie to chase his dream while I chased him. I wouldn't have gone to Chicago with you, never had the money to purchase that first place to live with you. Maybe never have discovered I loved interior design and house renovation. So, I would do it all again. It brought me my family."

She understands, now, what the lyrics really mean to him. However, she's also the one person in the whole world close enough to Steve to actually see it. "I get what you are saying. But these lyrics do not tell that story. Knowing your reasoning behind it does make me see them that way. But no one who hears that is going to know your tragic backstory."

"So, should I re-write this?"

"Depends. What is your goal with this... statement. What is the best case scenario."

Steve blinks at her. "Oh. Uh, best case, huh? I guess... I want to talk to Eddie, again. We parted on real bad terms, and I think I want closure from that?"

She narrows her eyes at him, judging. "Are you angry, like, at all?" She is. She's still furious with Eddie. His fucking song had blown Steve's life up virtually overnight. But also, she had thought they were friends, too. She hadn't realized their friendship was conditional, with that condition being he and Steve having to be in a relationship.

And, yeah, logically she knows she was Steve's friend first and it would be easy to default to believing she'd be on Steve's side but she wasn't. Not at first.

When Steve had shown up at her house, having gone straight from Eddie's to hers after he told them they were over, she'd held him through the night as he cried. But in the morning, she'd told him she needed to check on Eddie. He was her best friend, too. But Wayne told her he was gone, left last night to Chicago. Wayne had offered her a ride there with him, after he got Eddie's van running again and went to take it to him.

She said she'd think about it. Tried to reach out over all the socials, but Eddie didn't even check them, and then Hey Steve came out and there wasn't any room left in her to care about Eddie and his emotional state.

Not anymore. Not when he'd left her, too. Not when, even after Robin had made her own way to fame, he declined to meet with her. She'd tried to reach out but who was she, a new comer to the music scene and barely known, to Eddie Fucking Munson, lead guitarist to Corroded Coffin?

"I mean, sure, but like... it's been ten years. I don't- I have better things to think about than how mad I was... am? at Eddie. We were friends, first, y'know. And it's complicated. You know this," Steve says.

"Yeah, yeah," Robin waves off his words, "you're whole Eddie was a part of my life for longer than he's been gone from it thing. I'm not sure that the fifteen years of your childhood should be counted the same as this decade of adulthood."

"I get that you don't want to forgive him, and that's fine. But, forgiveness or not, I want closure."

"Okay. Keep the song as is."

"Really?"

"Yes," Robin says, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across her face. If Steve records and shares what sounds like a love song, there's almost a 100% chance that Gareth will reach out again. She knows they're expecting to see an angry and hurt Steve, but instead they'll get this? Robin's not above playing unfair. She hopes this breaks Eddie, consumes him with a guilt as deep as the original hurt felt. "I think we should let everyone think it's your sad, pathetic, pining for a decades-old-love song. It'll definitely get Gareth reaching out to me and my team again."

"Gareth's reached out?"

"It's his job. He's Corroded Coffin's PR Manager now, apparently. When Lauri told me Gareth had reached out, I asked to be included in the call. Anyway, not the point. The point is, if you want to talk to Eddie, this love song is the trick."

"It's not a love song!"

"Whatever you say, Dingus. Sing it again so I can imagine the music to go with it."

#the interview #platonic stobin #my fic #just a little scene about why robin let steve record a love song in her studio #she wanted to hurt eddie as much as he hurt her and steve #does she feel guilty about it? eventually #anyway #enjoy this little snippet that didnt end up in the original fic

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vaspider · 9 months

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#op is a nsfw blog so it makes sense that theyre pissed abt not being able to block minors from seeing their stuff#however judging by the note count this post left the nsfw tumblr circulation and therefore is an issue#so definitely listen more to spider if youre just. a casual blogger#i understand why nsfw blogs dont want ageless bio blogs following them but personal safety matters more than porn

Listen.

I saw this a lot on the reblogs for this post, and let me be clear:

Whether or not you are an NSFW blog does not fucking matter, you still should not demand that people put their age in their bio, and that is what that post was doing.

There is a difference between 'if your bio does not include some indication of whether or not you are a minor, I will block you,' and

PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO. PUT YOUR FUCKING AGE IN YOUR BIO.

One of those things is cool and acceptable.

One of them is not cool and acceptable, no matter whether or not you are an NSFW blog.

That is what I'm talking about when I say that people on the internet do not understand how to properly set boundaries. (People don't, period. People are shitty at setting boundaries, but it's really bad on the internet.)

It is okay to say "I will block anybody whose bio doesn't contain some sort of indication whether or not they're a minor." I totally support that.

What I do not support, and what is actually fucking WRONG, is ANY POST WHATSOEVER, REGARDLESS OF CONTEXT, THAT TRIES TO SHAME OR SCOLD PEOPLE INTO DISCLOSING PERSONAL INFORMATION...

ESPECIALLY CHILDREN.

Because it is actually worse that this is coming from an NSFW blog trying to tell whether minors are interacting with them or not, because you KNOW that part of your intended audience is kids so that you can filter them out.

Learn to set boundaries FOR YOURSELF and not pressure other people into giving away information.

#actually i've decided to turn off reblogs on this before i go to bed

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sgiandubh · 10 months

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Pretzel logic

I never liked funerals - who does? - and I have always tried to avoid them, under different pretexts. This is one of the moments we meet the Great Beyond and we are at our most vulnerable. It's only fair and it is not something to be taken lightly, ever.

August 10, 2022 happened a few days before I decided to give OL a try and by the time I landed in here, that YouTube live had already been taken offline, perhaps with good reason.

That people watched it should come as no surprise to anybody: it happens in all cultures and societies - Death fascinates us and makes us curious, even if it's a questionable, voyeuristic kind of curiosity. It was posted for everyone to see, on the biggest content streaming platform on planet Earth. It was posted in consideration of the ending peak moment of the COVID pandemic, to allow for more people to attend, with the family's prior consent. It was most probably shot from the organ balcony, at a respectful distance and I am being told the streaming was blurry: a good thing, if you ask me. People screeching for "more clarity" of those screenshots should, in my humble opinion, think twice: context and taboo and all that.

That people saw something bizarre in the front pew was unavoidable. That the said detail (Occam's Razor would help us conclude that ambiguous things are usually anything but...) was screenshot, edited and made its way in here and elsewhere - impossible to control. However, I have not read any disrespectful comments about the event. Nobody snarked. Nobody grinned. A hole in the plot was pointed out, adding to the whole array of inconsistencies and if I remember well, it was almost missed out entirely (a taboo is a taboo, after all) and started its career online only days after.

Was it shared ad nauseam? Maybe - but who the hell am I to judge? Again, not something you can control, unless you set yourself up as the Torquemadas of this fandom and slap everybody on the wrist with your twisted righteousness. When your people discuss the Data Lounge findings in great, lewd detail, that is called having fun and (I love that one, don't you?) gossiping, as if you were just talking about Miss Scarlett's new petticoat, not a man's reputation. When our people dare to post pictures from a public event, or published for public consumption, that is immediately taxed as being insane or snooping.

A neutral person venturing in here would call out the bias immediately. I call out your hypocrisy and have no problem doing it in writing. And I never peddled neutrality, in here: I simply peddled decency and I remind everyone I have probably never posted any pictures from August 10, 2022 (I will triple check later, but I am pretty sure I didn't). It is a personal choice and, as you know very well, I am not alone in the Shipper community. Far from it.

That you chose August 10 to post the largest, most consistent amount of content I have read on your blogs during the last six months, shows me once more what I already knew: you simply can't help yourself, can you? It's all about slap-a-shipper day, even if this community remained remarkably silent and collected, yesterday. Extremes exist, they are a fact of life: silencing them is useless and unproductive, at least as far as I am concerned.

You have once again showed me your true colors, Mordor. At the end of the day, you do not really have a problem with the pictures floating out there. What you do have a BIG problem with, is the person sitting in the front pew and you would go to great lengths - to any lengths, for that matter - to disguise it under a thick sanctimonious cloak of civic disgust. Your shrieks backfire: if anything, they confirm, not deny. And for the sake of politics, anything goes. It is, therefore, ironic, that in order to post your reasoning, you did look, in great detail and for a consistent amount of time, at the same exact screenshots and pictures you send to hell so gleefully.

Spare me the dramatics.

#fandom

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xenostalgic · 21 days

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I recall a tea in one Argentine home, where my acquaintance, a Pole, began to speak about Poland. Again, naturally, Mickiewicz and Kosciuszko together with Sobieski and the Siege of Vienna came riding onto the table. The foreigners listened politely to these passionate opinions and heard that ‘‘Nietzsche and Dostoevski were of Polish extraction,’’ and that ‘‘we have two Nobel prizes in literature.’’ It occurred to me then that if someone were to praise himself or his family in this way, it would be considered quite tactless. I thought that this auction with other nations for geniuses and heroes, for merits and cultural achievements, was really quite awkward from the point of view of propaganda tactics because with our half-French Chopin and not quite native Copernicus, we cannot compete with the Italians, French, Germans, English, or Russians. Therefore, it is exactly this approach that condemns us to inferiority [...] I tried, therefore, to indicate condescension in my voice and began to speak as one who attaches no great importance to the attainments of the nation, whose past is worth a great deal less than its future, a nation for whom the highest law is the law of the present, the law of maximum spiritual freedom at a given moment. Pointing to the foreign elements in the blood of the Chopins, Mickiewiczes, Copernicuses (so that they would not think that I have anything to hide or that anything at all could take away my freedom of maneuver), I said that one should not take too seriously the metaphor that we, Poles, ‘‘gave’’ these people to the world as they were merely born among us. What does Mr. Kowalski have in common with Chopin? Does Chopin’s composition of the ballads raise Mr. Kowalski’s speciﬁc weight by even one iota? Can the Siege of Vienna augment Mr. Ziebicki of Radom by even an ounce of glory? No. We are not, I said, the direct heirs of past greatness or insigniﬁcance, intelligence or stupidity, virtue or sin and each person is responsible only for himself. Each is himself. Here, however, I had the impression that I was not being adequately profound and that I had to speak more sweepingly (if what I was saying was to be effective). In admitting, therefore, up to a point, that certain speciﬁc virtues and the tensions, energies, charms, which are born in a mass and constitute its expression, do emerge in the great achievements of a nation, in the works of its artists, I struck at the very basis of national self-adulation. I said that if a nation truly mature should judge its own merits with temperance, then a nation truly vital must learn to disregard them. It must be absolutely condescending in relation to everything that is not its immediate concern and its current becoming [...] It was not until the very end of my philippic that I discovered the thought, which in that atmosphere of muddled improvisation seemed most excellent. Namely, that nothing that is really your own can impress you. If, therefore, our greatness or our past impresses us, it is proof that it has not yet entered our bloodstream.

—Witold Gombrowicz, Diary

#(the source of the quote in the previous post)

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fangirlfrom-hell · 7 months

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Several Missed Calls and a Sprained Ankle || Jay Halstead x Halstead Sister one shot

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

Also appearing Will and Connor Rhodes because I miss him.

I'm not a doctor, medical topics are vague.

Friendly reminder that Becca is Halstead sister.

☆

The Intelligence squad had just came back to the bullpen with a suspect in custody when Sergeant Platt came inside to interrupt whatever they were having.

-"Hey, Halstead! I've been receiving calls from your sister's school all day. They said they called your father, but didn't answer, so she asked them to look for you, but your phone was off".

-"I was in a UC run, I always turn the personal off...". He tried to explain himself with guilt.

-"That's what I tried to explain to them. Apparently she's injured and needs to be picked up as soon as possible".

-"Wh-what happened?" He hadn't even finished taking off his jacket and now he was hastily putting it back on.

-"They didn't elaborate on the matter, but they've been calling like crazy every half hour. I even volunteered to go and bring her here, but they did say it would be impossible if I'm not in the list". She pulled a face with that last statement. -"Can you believe that?"

Everybody settled in at the bullpen, all detectives listening to the conversation.

-"Boss..." Jay looked at Voight.

-"Sure, go. What are you waiting for?". He ordered with his arms crossed. -"We can take care of this".

Jay nodded his head as saying "thank you" and walked himself down to the parking lot trying to look chill, although on the inside he was really unsettled for whatever had happened to his little sister. He couldn't avoid being the overprotective big brother, it ran through his veins.

-"Hey, Detective. Make sure you put my name in that freakin' list!". Platt yelled before he crossed the door. -"I don't want to feel so humiliated again". She said in her usual exaggerated way. Then she muttered to herself: I'm a CPD Sergeant, who dares to say 'no' to me like that?

The long road to Becca's school in Canaryville wasn't helpful to ease Jay's mind. He was also feeling abashed for not being able to answer the call on time, although he was not responsible for attending those emergencies, therefore he was not aware of them. And where the hell was his father? Why didn't he answer those calls from school? He cursed him. This wasn't the first time something like this happened.

-"I'm here to pick my sister, Becca Halstead".

-"Oh, sure. We've been calling you for hours. Literally hours". The secretary gave him a judging look, which Jay tried to ignore. -"She's upstairs, the nurse is accompanying her. I'll notify her you're here. Follow me".

Jay followed the woman through the halls of the school until they went outside to the back yard. From the second floor of the building in front of them, he recognized Becca's ginger blonde hair. She was leaning on someone else to walk, looked like she couldn't do it by herself and there was some pain in her tiny face.

-"What happened?" Jay asked without taking his eyes off her.

-"She sprained her foot on the stairs, she didn't roll or hit her head, so there was no need to call an ambulance. It was an accident, some kids were playing around and pushed her unintentionally. We already took action on the matter, don't worry about that".

He walked upstairs to help his sister. As soon as he was able to entirely see her, he noticed how her foot was in the air, shoe untied.

-"Jay!" Becca said with relief.

-"It's all right". The secretary told the nurse. -"Her brother will handle it from here".

-"Is it your ankle? You can't put your foot down at all?"

-"No, it really hurts". Becca moved her head from one side to another.

-"It's a little bit swollen". The nurse talked. -"I applied ointment and ice for the pain, but I can't really do anything else in here. I think it's just a sprain, but she should be checked at the hospital".

-"Yes, I'll take her straight to The Med. Thank you!"

Jay took his badge and gun from his hips and placed them somewhere else in his jeans.

-"Sorry". He said, feeling the alarmed gaze of the two women. Then, he took the girl's backpack and put it on his shoulder. -"All right, Becs. Come here".

Jay hugged Becca and lifted her to carry her down the stairs. It was very easy for him, light weight, the girl was smaller than an average 10 years old. She placed her arms around her brother's shoulder.

-"Take care, Beckie". The nurse waved goodbye as she was taken by the detective.

-"This is so embarrassing". She said looking around to check if somebody was watching them, but the yard was empty, everyone was inside of the classrooms. Jay couldn't resist to laugh a bit. It was a cute funny scene: a big, tall, muscular man with a girly purple backpack hanging from his shoulder and a girl with an embarrassed face in his arms.

He didn't put her down until they were back to the office, where he had to sign some papers before leaving.

-"Is that all?" Jay asked.

-"Yes, you can take her now".

-"Oh! Before I forget". He said turning around one more time to the reception. -"I want to add another person to the list of people who can pick her up".

-"Sure. She does need that". She didn't miss the chance to look at him with a judgy face. -"What's the name of the one?".

-"Trudy Platt". He smirked. Becca just gave him a look.

At the truck, Jay placed her in the co-pilot seat and then opened the back door to put the backpack away.

-"What do you carry in this? Rocks?" He freed his shoulder from the weight.

Becca wasn't a talkative girl, but still she was unusually quiet during the road to the hospital. She only broke the silence to groan in pain, that's when he noticed her teary eyes.

-"Does it hurt?" Jay asked, knowing the answer.

-"Yes. I think it's getting worse".

-"We're almost there, just hang up a little bit".

He wanted to ask Becca about how she had fallen, since his detective instincts knew that it was due to something more than an accident. He opened his mouth to say something he had been holding up, but an incoming call interrupted his intentions.

-"It says Hailey Upton". Becca announced, grabbing his phone.

-"Gotta answer that". He sighed. -"Would you put it in the speaker for me, please?".

Both siblings knew each other quite well. Becca knew how Jay noticed something strange was going on, but she didn't want to be interrogated. And Jay knew how Becca was aware of that and was reluctant to speak.

-"Soooooo...Is Sergeant Platt coming to pick me now if I get sick?" She changed the conversation as soon as the call ended.

-"Is that a problem?" Jay laughed out loud.

-"Well, it's kinda scary".

-"She told me to put her name in the list, I don't know if it was true, though. The thing is that today I was on the streets working a case when all this happened. I didn't have my phone with me, that's why I didn't answer".

-"I imagined that. That's why I told them to call directly to the 21st".

-"Which was very clever of you. I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier, I should have".

-"You don't have to be sorry, I'm not blaming you for anything. You are not even supposed to be responsible for me, anyway".

She had this sort of way to make claims to his father and mother without even realizing it. That last statement made the rest of the road extremely quiet.

The moment Becca crossed the entrance door sitting in a wheelchair, she realized she had never been at The Med as a patient before. Maggie was pushing her to the ER where Will was waiting for his siblings. Due to the type of injury, Dr. Rhodes was assigned to Becca's case.

-"This is too swollen". Connor said while checking her foot. -"On a scale from 1 to 10, how much does it hurt?"

-"Uh, I don't know. Maybe 5?"

Both of her big brothers stared at her teary eyes and her sick gesture, not believing her answer. She was trying so hard not to cry.

-"6?"

-"Are you sure?" The doctor gave her a warm smile. -"I was expecting you to say 10 or maybe even beyond 10".

Becca remained silent, pressing her lips.

-"Ok. We'll do an X-Ray just to make sure it isn't more than a sprain. Meanwhile, the nurse will administer you some pain killers".

He went out of the room to order the studios and made a sign for the siblings to follow him outside, leaving their sister alone with the technicians for a few minutes.

-"What do you think?" Dr. Halstead asked.

-"I don't think she just simply twisted her ankle. For the damage, it must have been a harder impact".

-"Is it bad?" Jay asked with concern.

-"Can't tell until I see the X-Ray. What worries me the most right now is how hard she's trying to take the pain".

-"Yeah, that's something she does". Jay sighed. -"Not only with physical pain".

When the three men entered back to the room, Becca was silently crying, wiping her tears away. Jay was the one that approached to hold her. Her bruised and swollen ankle was a standout in the room.

-"Becca, you have what we call a severe grade 2 sprain and I'm pretty sure it hurts more than a lot right now. Why don't you say anything? You can complain about the pain, that's what hospitals are for".

-"I don't want to be a bother". The girl answered quietly, tears still dropping from her eyes.

-"What are you talking about?" Will walked to be close to the bed.

-"Becca...". Jay sat next to her and bent to be face to face. -"You are not a bother and you will never be".

-"It's just...I'm scared you'll stop answering the phone calls too".

In that moment, everything fell into place and Jay's heart dropped. The conversation suddenly closed to just the two of them, although everyone could hear their words.

-"Bec...I will never stop caring for you. I won't lie, sometimes it gets hard with my work, but I will do what is necessary so that something like today does not happen again. I promise".

-"But you shouldn't, like, you shouldn't be the one in charge of me. I'm a burden".

-"I know what you mean, and I know how you feel about dad, but believe me when I tell you how much it makes me happy to be here for you. I'm your big brother, it actually is my job to protect you. I love you, silly. I would never forgive myself if something happens to you. I wouldn't forgive myself if you didn't have the confidence to call me either".

With all being said and those emotions off her chest, her crying increased in tears and sound.

-"It's a 20. The pain is a 20" She managed to say in what seemed to be overacted, although it was only the natural response to having endured so much physical and emotional pain in such a short time.

-"Let's apply more pain killers". Connor talked to the nurses. -"And let's finish this up". He smiled at the little girl.

Jay found her reaction a little bit cute and couldn't resist smiling a bit when she jumped into her arms.

-"You will have to use the walking boot for at least 4 weeks". Dr. Rhodes informed when he finished. -"That if everything goes well".

-"What about dance lessons?"

-I'm sorry, Becs". -Dr. Halstead got into the conversation. -"That's going to be impossible. You need to give it a rest".

-"Not to mention the pain that would cause you".

-"Is she going to be able to be back when her ankle heals?"

-"If she listens to my recommendations in the letter, I don't see why not". Connor then turned to Becca: "I know this thing is very uncomfortable, but is necessary. You might start feeling as if you don't need it before the set time, but it is important that you do not take it off until I say so. If you trust me and you do this, You'll be fine and back to dancing soon".

Becca nodded sadly.

-"I understand this is very important to you, Becca. I can arrange to see you each week instead of two weeks to check how it is going".

-"Thank you, Connor''. His colleague said.

Becca yawned more than once on their way back to the Bullpen. She was discharged from the hospital, so she couldn't stay there and there wasn't any other place Jay could leave her. She was tired, her stressed body only wanting to rest.

-"Look at that!" Platt exclaimed when she spotted both Halsteads crossing the front door. -"It is my favorite Halstead!"

-"I'm glad to hear she's your favorite, because you are in the list now, Serge".

The Desk Sergeant smirked at the news.

-"I take this honor responsible".

-'All right, girl". Jay said, bending in front of the stairs. -"Let's do this again".

Becca hopped into her brother's back and he carried her upstairs, where all the squad greeted her with enthusiasm and good wishes. She sat in the coffee room waiting for him.

-"The punk confessed. We have enough evidence. It was an easy case, we're done for now". Voight informed Detective Halstead.

-"I'm sorry I wasn't here for interrogation, Serge. There was no one to take care of her...".

-"There's nothing to be sorry about''. Hank waved his hand from one side to another. -"Besides, you did your job, a good job capturing him. Now, you all are dismissed. You should take your sister to rest".

Detectives were able to go back home relatively early that day. The bullpen was empty when Jay went out of Hank Voight's office. There was only a blonde woman sitting at the desk in front of him.

-"Why are you still here?"

-"Your sister fell asleep on the couch. It didn't feel good to leave her alone in her condition". Hailey answered.

-"Thank you for that". He said honestly.

-"The same thing happened to me when I was a little bit older than her. I know it hurts like hell".

-"Yeah, she had a bad time. She's tired and drugged in pain killers, I should take her home".

-"Tell me if you need help with anything, I'm here. For real, partner". Detective Upton took her coat and walked herself downstairs.

-"Thanks again, Hails".

-"No problem".

It took him a while to stop staring at the stairs before going into the coffee room. There she was deeply asleep, it looked like she was melting.

-"Becca". He softly called her. -"Becca, it's time to go". But there was no answer, not even when he shaked her.

-"Well, third time's the charm. What could go wrong?" He muttered to himself and took Becca in his arms, this time as if she was a baby.

#Jay Halstead #Jay Halstead x sister #Jay Halstead x Halstead sister #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfic #once chicago fanfic #trudy platt #haileyr upton #hank voight #Jay Halstead imagine

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heeseung-min · 1 year

Text

[00:17]

"I decided for Y/n to get a therapy for her mental health. What she did was clearly wrong however she has no control over it. Therefore, Y/n will be send to asylum."

People who were listening to it started to get furious. When the judges went out from the court room, they started to throw things to Y/N. Shouting and cursing at her for not get to send to jail.

"Asylum? Bullshit! You are murderer. You killed my son! You deserve to be punished."

"We don't have child like you. We don't raise killer!!"

"DIE DIE DIE YOU SHOULD DIE!!!"

The police and guard hold those people from do more harm to you. You can only bowed your head from being seen by them.

"But I didn't do it."

-----

Y/n stared at her food. She didn't have appetite since she got admitted to the hospital. Some patients were badmouthing her and some were just care about themselves more.

"Miss Y/N?"

She looked to a man who sat in front of her. He's not a patient because he had a white coat on. She stared at him with confusion.

"I'm Heeseung, the psychiatrist here. You should eat your food before it gets cold."

Y/n started to munch on her food. She waited for the doctor to go but he just sit there staring at her.

"Can I have my own privacy, please?"

"I have my right to make sure all patients here are fine."

"Yes, I am fine. I'm eating right now. So, can you please leave me alone?"

Heeseung nodded lightly and smiled to her before he left her alone at the table.

----

"I hope you are in good condition. Can we start this session?"

"Yes."

"So, can you tell me what happen that day?"

You tried to remember but the only thing that stuck in your head was you laying in a pool of blood of your boyfriend, Sunghoon. He was there beside you laying unconsciously while you were just woke up. Looking at your surrounding made you speechless that you didn't have a time to regain your memories before the front door got crushed. The polices came in and pulled you away from Sunghoon.

"I...I didn't...know."

Heeseung tilted his head confusedly when you said that. He saw your fingers were shaking and your pupils looking everywhere but him.

"Based on the police report that I got, you killed your boyfrie-"

"NO! I- I didn't kill him. I swear it's not me. I- It's so sudden I just woke up from my sleep and suddenly he's dead beside me. I really don't know what happened that day. Please, trust me."

"But, you don't have evidence for that."

You realized it is pointless to prove yourself innocent. No one believes you and you yourself can't even prove that you are not the killer.

"I will prescribe some medications for you. So, I hope you will consume it."

"But...I'm not sick? I don't have mental illness seriously."

"That's what literally all of them said before. But, trust me sometimes you don't know what happen to yourself."

You became speechless after what he said and quickly went out from the room when he said the session is over.

"I didn't kill him. Why would I kill Sunghoon? I love him."

"That's what I said too, you know."

You sighed and looked to a woman that was standing beside you. When you thought you could get a privacy, you were wrong.

"I didn't believe I killed him at first. But, when I finally remembered everything I laughed at myself. Your head sometimes is messing with you."

The woman said with a big smile on her face made you felt creepy.

"There's a difference between you and me."

The lady raised her eyebrows waiting for your words.

"You are really crazy but I'm not."

That's what you said before leaving the woman speechless on her seat. You thought back about what Heeseung had said on the session just now. It's impossible for you to kill your own boyfriend. Sure, you guys were fighting the day before he died but not to the point you wanted to kill him.

"I'm sorry, hoon. I'm really sorry."

That night, a staff coming to your room and injected some liquid into your body when you were sleeping.

----

"Have you done it?"

"Yes, sir. I did it like what you asked."

"Good. You can leave, now."

"But, why would you do this? She is clearly fine."

The staff curiously asked because the liquid he was given to will bring some bad effects for you. One of it is being delusional.

Heeseung who were looking at his computer turned to the staff with eerie smile on his face.

"That's why I'm doing it. So she can depends on me only. I waited for years to get her in my hands."

The staff felt creepy at Heeseung's tone. He bowed his head and went out from his office.

Heeseung rested his body to the chair while happily staring at his screen that shows you were sleeping at the moment. His plan going so well right now. You will struggling and your mental health deteriorate and Heeseung will heal you. After years watching you he finally get to meet you and have you under his control.

"I knew you better than yourself, y/n."

😟😟Can you guys guess what happen? 🤭I really hope you guys enjoy this story.

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @cyberpinkx

#yandere enhypen #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #enha x reader #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #nishimura riki #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #yandere au #yandere drabble #yandere heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enhypen scenarios

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stromuprisahat · 3 months

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Regarding Nikolai. it’s insane how the author and the fandom close their eyes and baby him. When he SA Alina, pushed her in a carriage so she could react, and then immediately gaslit her to think out was okay. He’s the one who actually used her and manipulated her to and succeed in getting the Ravkan crown. but the worst crime he has is the one where right after Genya tells him his father* and king is a rapist…..Nikolai rewarded the king. Nikolai covered up the king’s crime, made sure he received no trial at all, that no girls received justice, and to rub salt in the wound he gave the King a full expense paid retirement vacation with a “life full of luxury….safety” and even let the king choose where he would retire..oh sorry…LB calls it “exile.” So the King who never wanted to rule the nation, only wanted a life of luxury and attacking girls…gets a life of luxury far far away where he has no care or worry and he is free to attack any and all servants I’ve had in his luxury retirement. Leigh Bardugo should have re-read chapter 11 of ruin and rising. Rich white savior born with a silver spoon that manipulates, SA, and uses Alina go get in power let’s his father figure who literally SA’d genya and other girls go free and rewarded.

*father figure - publicly his father privately not really the bio dad And I call BS on the R&R proclamation that Nikolai didn’t know the king was a rapist. Nikolai was raised in the same halls, if the king’s reputation was so well known like LB keeps claiming it was in RoW then Nikolai would 100% know about it before he left for the military.

I have a problem with understanding Nikolai's actions.

It's caused by his moral alignment.

I simply cannot grasp how can someone put rules, established by other humans- therefore possibly faulty-, above preventing possible injustice. (Yes, I'm true neutral.) How can "a good" person be stopped by immaterial concept? If he believed there's some higher power, eventually judging all human actions, but he's an atheist!

What makes it more complicated, is his seeming moral flexibility. I'm not even halfway through Siege and Storm, and he doesn't seem bothered by lying, stealing, manipulation... is a piece of paper truly such a difference? Nobody wrote down rules about particular situations, so he can do whatever he pleases?

A bit of a hypocrite, isn't he?

... As he was helping me back into the coach, he slipped his arm around my waist. “Please don’t punch me,” he whispered. Then he yanked me hard against his chest and pressed his lips to mine. The crowd exploded into wild cheers, their voices crashing over us in an exultant roar. Before I could even react, Nikolai shoved me into the shadowy interior of the coach and slipped in after. He slammed the door behind him ... I turned on Nikolai and kicked him hard in the shin. He yelped, but that wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. I kicked him again. “Feel better?” he asked. “Next time you try something like that, I won’t kick you,” I said angrily. “I’ll cut you in half.” He brushed a speck of lint from his trousers. “Not sure that would be wise. I’m afraid the people rather frown on regicide.” “You’re not king yet, Sobachka,” I said sharply. “So don’t tempt me.” “I don’t see why you’re upset. The crowd loved it.” “I didn’t love it.” He raised a brow. “You didn’t hate it.” I kicked him again. This time his hand snaked out like a flash and captured my ankle. If it had been winter, I would have been wearing boots, but I was in summer slippers and his fingers closed over my bare leg. My cheeks blazed red. “Promise not to kick me again, and I’ll promise not to kiss you again,” he said. “I only kicked you because you kissed me!” I tried to pull my leg back, but he kept a hard grip. “Promise,” he said. “All right,” I bit out. “I promise.” “Then we have a deal.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 11

This isn't gaslighting. It's another kind of manipulation, if anything. He's playing it down, but in his case I'd say it isn't caused by some malevolent intentions, but different view on the matter. He's playing a part. While he isn't repulsed by the idea of kissing Alina, he didn't do it for his personal enjoyment, but to cement their union in eyes of the people.

Alina, on the other hand, doesn't intend to become anything more than her own private person. She views the kiss only as a transgression against her.

Nikolai is a people-pleaser, who obviously displeased Alina. While he might be manipulating Alina so he doesn't have to deal with her anger, it might also be an attempt to make it better. Children often do this. I did a bad thing, but if we both agree it wasn't SO bad, it will get better.

His swift reaction outside the carriage was about preventing Alina to ruin the image he just painted. It's not hard to figure out she's quick to anger and much slower to think. He already tried to introduce her to the concept of being a public person. When pure theory fails, apply more practical approach?

This is another example of Nikolai "The Diet Darkling" Lantsov in action. Collar Alina to take over her world-changing abilities to end wars is absolutely despicable, while mere kiss to use her status of Living Saint for run on position of power's possible to overlook, because Nikolai's motivations are noble. I guess that's the difference between Royalty reaching for the Crown and serf reaching for the chance to live.

The rape confrontation feels weak and unsatisfying, thanks to NIkolai's lack of spine, or fixation on Ravkan law, depending on your POV. Apparently he acted according to their legal system. I have a half-written post on this, but since we're on the topic, I agree it's one on those examples, when law guarantees neither justice, nor prevention of future crimes, so instead of cheering for Nikolai's fairness, we're left upset with his decision.

“You will write the letter, and tomorrow you will leave on the Kingfisher. It will take you to Os Kervo, where you’ll be seen safely aboard the Volkvolny and across the True Sea. You can go someplace warm, maybe the Southern Colonies.” “The Colonies?” the Queen gasped. “You will have every luxury. You will be far from the fighting and the reach of the Darkling. You will be safe.”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 7

Sure, it's exile, loss of power and prestige... but how is luxury a punishment? How is relocation to a peaceful place instead of constantly warring Ravka a punishment? And most importantly- how does it prevent the rapist from raping more servants? Or other helpless, young destitutes?

It's like sending a serial killer on a paid vacation, weapons of choice included.

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Nikolai Lantsov #Alina Starkov #King Alexander III Lantsov #Genya Safin #S&S Chapter 11 #R&R Chapter 7 #Siege and Storm #Ruin and Rising #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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weirdmorefics · 2 years

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Hi! I think a sister Bridgerton imagine where the reader is about 2/3 and she’s just now growing into her features and she looks just like Benedict and everyone just adores her but Anthony is very protective and jealous that everyone says that she and Benedict are gonna be besties because he’s supposed to be her father figure. I think that would be cute :)

Picnic Squabbles

x Sister!Reader

A/N- This is in Anthony’s POV and not the readers

Warnings- None

Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 343

Summary- A picnic goes awry when Anthony cannot take the comments about the reader being Benedict’s little girl anymore.

“She is so adorable I swear she looks more like Benedict every day.” One of Mother friends gushes.

I honestly do not see it Y/N is her own person and if anything Benedict looks like me. Therefore she and Benedict looks like me!

“Are you okay Anthony? You’re grinding your teeth again,” Daphne asks concerned.

I roll my eyes and groan “I am fine Daphne.”

“Yeah, because you sure look fine.” Daphne mumbles under her breath and I pretend not to hear.

“Benny lets play hide and seek” Y/N says excitedly dragging him away from the picnic.

Another one of Mother’s friends swoons about how great of a father Benedict is going to be because he practically already is one! That is the last straw I can not handle these women thinking Benedict is the father of this family. I walk with heavy footsteps towards Benedict.

“Are you playing hide and seek with us?” Y/N smiles.

I squat down to meet Y/N’s eye level “Do you think of Benedict as your Father?”

Daphne’s jaw drops open and she hits my shoulder “You can’t just ask a question like that!”

Mother looks over at us squabbling and walks up to us followed by her friends. I can tell by the look on her face that she was disappointed with me and was about to give me a lecture. One of her friends shook her head and said I should learn from Benedict and I tried to give her my dirtiest glare when Mother glared back at me.

Y/N interrupts Mothers friends judging me “No Benedict isn’t my dad,” she laughs. “ You are the dad because you are the one the protects me. Now let's go play hide and seek!” She smiles widely and drags me away.

I hear the other Mothers praising me now and their daughters swooning. However, that is not what matters to me. Y/N thinks I am the father of the family not Benedict. I am fulfilling my duty for my family and Y/N knows I will always protect her.

Support Me Here

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #Bridgertons #Bridgerton brothers #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict x you #benedict x y/n #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton!sibling #bridgerton!sister #bridgerton!sister x reader #bridgerton!#benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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dxmoness · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝑴𝒀 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 | 𝐄. 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬

𝑵𝐎𝐓𝐄 ~ Eros confessing?? You wish <3

𝑪𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝑾𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ~ poisoning, curses, murder! You've been warned, if not comfortable feel free to skip this!

The three nobles now sat across from each other with two on one side and one on the other.

Eros Vasilios sat there as comfortable as he could possibly be. Satisfying his thirst as he drank the tea slowly, eyeing the other two seated before him.

Medea looked tense whilst Dekis looked as if he had not been sleeping for weeks. They act as if they had not been anticipating his visit. Surely now Medea would have realized his obsession with the princess who resided in these chambers. His eyes shifted from one sibling to another as he continued on with his drinking.

The room was ruled by silence. No one talked nor did they give gestures to one another. Silence grew so loud that Dekis felt uncomfortable being in the sight of the prince.

Finally, Eros put down the now empty cup. "Well then, how has the princess been faring?" His fingers folding together, he stared directly at the window away from them. This indicated that he was waiting for an answer as the ex-heir of the Solons murmured the response. "She's faring quite well, Your Highness." Dekis shot a glance towards Medea who gave a nod of confirmation.

His fingers gripped each other to the point that it hurt as he tried his absolute hardest to keep calm. "I see. As she should be, after all one small mistake could cause an entire war to be upon us, no?"

"I suppose so." Medea said with no interest in making her voice sound polite. "What is the purpose of your continuous visits, Your Highness? Must you always come by every week to ask continuously of the princess's welfare?"

"My, it seems someone is more annoyed than the person I'm looking for." Eros chuckled, wry amusement taking the wheel. "I am here only to wonder what she has been doing due to suspicions that she might not be treated as well as she says so." Unfolding his hands, his fingers gripped the chair's in impatience. "I also can't help, but realize that every time I visit, the princess seems out of bounds." His eyes flicked towards the duchess who stiffened. "I assume this is your doing, Lady Medea?"

Her hesitation was noted as she firmly stood her ground. "Yes it is my intention. During the ball weeks ago I have come to a realization that she may not exactly feel comfortable with you therefore we move her away every time you come."

Eros frowned. Not comfortable! He'd dare to laugh, but the truth may lie right in those words. Was Name really uncomfortable with him? Pondering onto this thought, he fell in a deep thought of whether or not this could be the case.

While he did so, Medea triumphantly knew she hit the right button when it came to the sudden outburst. Her eyes met her brother's as they both felt the satisfaction of their course of action.

This victory would only be short-lived as the next noise was not from this room.

Eros jerked up at the sound of a loud thump upstairs. What was that? Judging by the faces of the Solons, they were wondering the same thing.

Dekis stood up as he eyed his sister, worry written on his face. The noise had come from directly above them where the princess's chambers were located. This would mean one thing. Something must've happened to the princess. "Please excuse me a moment, Your Highness." Dekis murmured, bowing as he left onward.

Eros looked towards the duchess. His look was cutting and questioning. Medea just seemed as if she could not contemplate the matter at hand.

Seconds pass by as the silence loomed. They both awaited Dekis's return. As for Eros, he felt as if he already knew what was going to be said next. "The princess has been injured, has she not?" Eros spoke with no trace of emotion in his voice thus breaking the silence.

"We aren't sure of that yet." Medea replied, those purple eyes fixating on those venomous ones. After some afterthought she added in. "Also why do you care? Should you not have more troubling matters at hand? Leave this to the hosts."

Eros's hand clenched the arm of the chair once more as he continued to fight the war within. Debating whether or not to suddenly lash out, he found himself choosing the latter. Lashing out would lead to troubling circumstances. Something he did not want or need to have at the moment.

A slam of the door caused both to look towards them. Eyes shifting towards the figure by the door. Dekis Solon had returned and it seemed he was not bringing good news. "Name.. she's.." Eros frowned at this. 'Name'? When had the two gotten so close that he of all people was allowed to call her by her first name? Especially without title at that.

Medea's face paled with realization. "She's what?"

Eros braced himself for what he waited for, but was lashed with a bigger problem.

"Gone."

Words could not describe how much that hit him. That word came with a paroxysm of rage. "What do you mean gone?" Eros responded with his eyes flicking with rage.

"She's not in her room and not anywhere in the estate grounds." Those words brought worry to Eros. In fact, blaming those damnable guards for not taking her back then and leaving her now.

"So much for a 'great' stay." Eros said, venom lacing his voice as he stared at Medea who regarded him with the same kind of venomous gaze. "Show me." An order came from his lips that he had tried to contain. This caused the older male to look at his sister once more who nodded in defeat. Last thing they needed was a bloodbath from the prince.

Entering the princess's chambers they found a mess. As if someone was trying to rummage through her things and find something or anything at all that could be a blackmail.

Another thing that was noted was the shattered tea cup that now lied on the floor. Then it hit Eros almost immediately. On his way to the dining room where they had been staying before the incident started, he had noticed a maid carrying what seemed to be a giant bundle. Big enough to be a human.

tagging, @roseadleyn , @d10nsaint , @that-one-pretty-bitch , @sidra-29

#manhwa x reader #self insert #manhwa #eros orna vasilios #eros x reader #eros supremacy #eros vasilios x reader #eros vasilios #your throne x reader #your throne #y/n #medea beliard #medea solon #dekis solon #your throne dekis #your throne eros #★ — obsession series.

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morganalefae · 7 months

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s3 morgana being "beyond redemption" is soooooo crazy to me like yeah trying to kill the evil tyrant king whos been murdering every last one of your kind is sooooo evil lock her up and throw away the key!!

such a prime example of a kick the dog character too. like they cant condemn her for just fighting for her right to exist so they have her executing civilians and trying to have gwen executed to make her into the villian.

and! the same goes for morgause! literally what did she ever do wrong? uther conquered camelot (said by him in the episode where gili fights in the tournament) and then executed hundreds if not thousands of people with magic but morgause trying to kill the king is a step too far? why? its almost like the show is actually on uthers side 🤨🤨🤨🤨

which leads me to: the fact that we essentially watch the entire show through the pendragon perspective. merlin protects arthur so everything we learn about the purge and magic and the old religion is from uther/gaius. so, biased, to say the least. one of the most important things they tell you when researching history is to consider where your information is coming from and how that persons perspective influences their discussion of it.

which is why i also dont consider nimueh to be a villain. shes an activist! yeah she tried to kill arthur that one (?) time but he didnt even die so. doesnt count <3 but we SEE her having a conversation ALONE with uther where she says she didnt know what would happen to ygraine and i just cant imagine why she would lie. if she really wanted to hurt him she could have said she'd known and killed her on purpose but i dont think thats the case at all. she says she never would have helped him if she'd known what would happen. like, surprise, if you hunt and kill people for the crime of existing they will fight back and its not going to be the way you like it and innocent people will die. because thats war. you ruthlessly slaughter her people and she will slaughter yours.

worlds most unstructered post. professors hate her. anyway the show eventually starts to take on a very firm, "merlin has magic but ues not LIKE those other magic users therefore hes ok :) everyone else is evil tho. except the druids (sometimes :|)", whereby merlin using magic is only allowed if hes helping or saving arthur (except all those other times but we dont talk about those i guess) and his stance on magic eventually warps until hes just kind of horrible about it.

100% unpopular opinion but gaius should have died in s2 or 3. he influenced merlin far too much and basically never for the better. sorry to gaius lovers but i do NOT like that old man. he advises merlin EVERY time to not tell morgana about her magic (which she has no control over and therefore is manifesting in ways that will absolutely get her caught), to never help any of the unfairly persecuted people of the episode or even to use magic at all. hes a bootlicking coward who only helped people he cared for or when it suited him. how many people do you think he watched burn simply because he didnt agree with the way they used magic, whether it actually "evil" or not.

merlin's only friends who know about his magic are an old conservative man and a guy who dies right when merlin could have used the support of someone to help him "come out" to arthur about his magic.

im firmly of the opinion that had he told morgana about his magic everything would have been literally fine. because alone and with loterally no support system at all, is it any wonder that morgana would go down the road she did? after years of fear and watching people just like her be burned for the crime of existing, with no prophecy or friends to tell her that it wont always be this way. you dont have to be afraid because youre not the only one and i wont let anything happen to you. oh wait. she did get told that. by MORGAUSE. not about the prophecy but how can they be judged by trying to bring about change by themselves. by trying to kill a king whos killed so many of their own people.

if the intention of the show had been to give a poignant message about the cycle of abuse (morgana succumbing to bitterness and hatred just like uther) or how fear can control you (merlin eventually becoming essentially the bad guy, judging everybody who doesnt use magic the way he sees fit, staying silent and contributing to persecution of magic people because living in fear can make you paranoid and bitter (sound familiar?)) then i would applaud because wow did that make me fucking cry! and hit actually very close to home! and it was tragic and horrible but also inevitable

but as far as i can tell that was not at all the point, because in the end kilgharrah tells merlin the prophecy has been fulfilled, albion is united and magic returned! hurrah! but. um. did i miss something? when did that happen? oh, you mean when gwen is queen....? so.... gwen unites the land of albion and returns magic to the land? except, merlin seems to have lived on until the 21st century of our world and magic is not what i would call flourishing atm.

so i guess my question is... well actually i dont have a question. actually wait i do. what the fuck?

#whoops long and probably confusing post #oh well #merlin #bbc merlin #morgana pendragon #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #merthur #gaius

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