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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

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Stella and Stolas with the male Imp Overlord

Stella and Stolas with male Imp Overlord

When you, an Imp achieved your overlord status, lets just say that was something of an issue in the world of nobility.

Imps have always been the Hells servant class, every great dynasty and empire have been built off their backs. They were always meant to be ruled over, Not rule themselves.

But with your ascension to Overlord-ship, the pair found they had a very difficult desicion to make.

They could publicly oppose you. They were sure many of there fellow nobles would follow their lead, doing the same and under their banner, they could form a formidable opposition.

The only problem with that, is while they and there allies may oppose you, their enemies would be more then happy to support you. Whether that be directly or in the shadows.

And give the fact you, an Imp, had already achieved Overlord status, the last thing they needed was you against them, with the backing of disgruntled nobility.

So they did only other viable option. They got closer to you.

They formed an alliance with you in hopes of discovering what made you so unique. As well as ensuring you weren't an enemy.

You would initially be very suspicious of the pair.

Royalty had kept Imps down there entire existance, exploiting and enslaving them sing lucifers rebellion.

So you'd naturally have little, to no trust in the pairs intentions.

But as much as you distrusted the two, doing business with them was jus too beneficial to pass up, something the two went to lengths to ensure.

As the couple expected, in only a short period of time, you became even more powerful, amassing further wealth and territory.

And with this development, the two were quite happy there gamble had paid off. With their family becoming your largest business partner and as such benefited greatly from your prosperity.

As your business with the two increased, you'd slowly find yourself trusting the pair more, the two eagerly wanting to build on that.

And well, stolas being stolas, we all know he just couldn't help himself.

Being around such a domineering male Imp, one that spoke his mind and took shit from nobody. The way you didn't care in the slightest about his title and would tell him as much to his face.

Well, I think it's safe to say, he'd become Very interested in you, very quickly.

You wouldn't really mind Stolas.

You could tell he really didn't care much for politics, or the divide between hellbornes and royalty. He was just in it for a good time as well as securing his families continued survival. You could respect that.

Really the problem would be Stella.

It's fairly obvious she isn't too fond of Imps, likely having been raised to despise anyone she doesn't deem worthy.

And while your power and status would put you far above most every other Imp in her eyes, it would take a fair amount of time before she'd develop any kind of real respect for you.

But, given the chance to see just how capable and scrupulous you could be. A part of her would come to respect your cold-blooded you could be.

The truth was, Stolas had lost his blood lust when they were married. But you, you were a beast. Untamed and seemingly unstoppable.

While she initially wasn't fond of the idea of forming an alliance with you, doing it more so out of practicality over any genuine want to associate with you. She couldn't have realised just how good an idea it would turn out to be.

You were exactly what they needed, someone who could do the more 'dirty jobs' royalty often required, not only doing the job in a timely manner, but you always did it exactly to there expectations, never letting them down in the slightest.

The two held a party not long after your alliance began to prosper.

It was a fairly standard gathering of the Goeatia families allies and vassels families, the party working to both appease there egos and allow them to raise any concerns they may have to the couple.

Of course they had invited you, as despite the more recent nature of your power, you had quickly become an important business partner and asset to the Goetia family and they wanted to continue fostering that.

You had arrived fashionably late, clearly unhappy to be around so many nobles, a faint scowl across your features.

Despite your clear disgust, you still paid your respects to the two, thinking them for the invitation.

Leaving the pair you did what one does at such a gathering, you drank, partook in small talk and generally hung about.

But even with your invitation, it wasn't long until some asshat, decided to test you.

He attempted to publicly humiliate you. Pretending you were a servant and telling you, you were at the wrong area, or should be in the back serving drinks.

The asshole ran his mouth. You could handle that, you'd delt with plenty of loud idiots in your time, it was nothing new. But when he put his hands on you, attempting to push you about.

Well. You couldn't allow that.

It was in this moment that both Stella and Stolas saw why they had made the right choice in befriending you.

With a single brutally efficient strike, you dropped the noble like a sack of rocks.

Watching his body fall before calmly walking away, going about the party as though you hadn't just incapacitated one of the most powerful demons in hell.

Needless to say, no one at the party messed with you after that.

When it came to their relationship, she had little affection for Stolas.

She was still very committed to her marriage and family, of course but the once strapping, ambitious and blood thirsty Prince she had once thought she could love, had given way to an unambitious, soft hearted, stay at home dad.

And she just wasn't attracted to that.

But you... you were everything she saught in a mate.

Ambitious. Relentless. Dangerous and insatiable. You had no limits and seemed near unstoppable.

So, against her better judgement, she found herself falling for you. Something that was quite frustrating for the noble woman.

Stolas, would have absolutely no qualms about falling for you. He of course still cared for his family, but you were something else, something he desperately wanted.

The only problem unfortunately, was his family.

But with his wife being so close to you as well, both demons would be at something of an impass.

They couldn't pursue you in fear of there better halves finding out.

You, of course, where not blind to all this.

You could tell the two were slowly gravitating towards you, Stolas being particularly unsubtle about his pull.

And you found it was surprisingly easy to play the two off each other, Stolas was practically drooling over you and while she may try to hide it, you could tell Stella was very much attracted to you.

Stolas would be the easier of the pair to control.

A kind word here, a suductive touch there, a frustrated complaint about something over there and you could get him to do just about anything you wanted.

Stella would be more difficult, as It would take a considerable amount of time to have her overcome her ingrained discrimination towards Imps.

You likely needing to do so gradually, showing her how you were just as good as any snob with a royal title.

You'd need to be careful at first, ensuring that she truly did fancy you. But once you knew for sure, it wouldn't be difficult to seduce her.

All you'd need to do was appeal to her ego and show her your more dominant side.

Unlike stolas, it wouldn't be a physical dominance, it would a dominance of the mind. The owl princess finding your ability to dominate a room without lifting a finger, quite... intoxicating.

So, finding yourself in a love triangle of your own creation, you had a very specific plan.

When the pair of them first approached you, you knew, deep down, it was done out of fear.

Imps were nothing in Hell, and for you, an Imp to become an Overlord, that scared the BlueBloods.

And it should.

But if you were going to enter a relationship with these royals, they were going to be the ones who proposition you.

You'd be damned if you were gonna be the one begging for a relationship. They wanted it, and you knew they wanted it, they'd have to beg for it.

And beg they would.

The two came to an agreement. They both wanted you, but also didn't want to split up their family, so they would approach you together.

It was an awkward affair, in part due to you playing dumb to there intentions.

Stolas, being something of a bird brain, would draw it out, trying put their decision into words, but failing miserably.

Stella would just step in, opening the proposition of a relationship.

You would playfully think it over, already knowing the answer but you enjoyed watching the pair squirm.

You'd accept, the pair releasing a deep sigh before you pulled each of them into a passionate kiss.

However, much to Stolas' annoyance, you wouldnt sleep with them that night, choosing instead to just share there bed.

With a relationship like this, you'd have to spend the first few weeks ensuring there was a solid foundation to it.

Youd mostly do this through spending time with them, getting to know them on both an emotional and personal level.

Youd definitely sleep with Stolas first, taking the prince in his office.

Pushing him onto his desk and taking him rough and passionately, just how you knew he wanted it.

Youd do something more romantic for Stella. Likely having a simple, yet majestic diner before taking her to your now shared bedroom for a night of passionate fornication.

Despite there royal status, you would be the one wearing the pants in the relationship. As you could easily dominate each of them with words alone, Stolas even easier then Stella.

Of course you understood the importance of there image and would take a more back seat role in the relationship when needed.

Youd have a surprisingly intimate relationship with the pair.

Stolas was always open to anything you suggested, often initiating them himself. And while not nearly as common as stolas, Stella would often initiate intimacy with you.

Despite the two being married, Sex between all three of you would not be very common.

As both Stolas and Stella had quite different wants and needs in the bedroom that didn't quite mesh well.

Stolas wanted to be utterly dominated in the bedroom, completely at your mercy. While Stella wanted someone who could keep her pace, if not take control in the heat of passion.

Romance would be a priority for you, often doing your best to sweep them off there feet.

Luxurious dinners, dates on the town, the theatre. Nothing was ever too much.

Octavia would be a rather large bump in the relationship, as on one hand, you were essentially a whole new person intruding on her family, on the other hand, you were a wanted third partner in Stella and Stolas' marriage, you weren't tearing the family apart by being with them.

It would take a long time, and an even longer term strategy, but she would eventually warm up to you.

Never really coming to see you as a parent, but still part of the family.

While life wouldn't be without its problems,

The balance of power being a major source of arguments, as while Stolas was easy to tame, falling completely under your sway, Stella was far more head strong.

As such she'd often but heads with her rather submissive husband, saying he didn't do enough to keep up there family status.

She would often compare him to yourself, something you would always dismiss, having to step in and calm her down.

While you could dominate her husband easily, you'd need to control her in a more subtle ways. Appealing to her ego or planting ideas in her subconscious. Having mentioned when you forced her submission, likely in bed.

So, While it would certainly had its ups and downs, your life with your royal love Birds would be an incredibly love filled one.

Having the royal pair wrapped around your lottle finger, your power and status would grow exponentially. All the while the two would willingly give themselves to you, smothering you in there love and affection.

Thanking you as they made you stronger.

#helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss x reader #helluva stolas #helluva stella #stella x reader #stella #stolas x reader #stolas

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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School days: Family shenanigans

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader x Suguru Geto

Author note: Happy pride month y'all. Be gay, do crimes, and enjoy these extra headcanons I absolutely didn't have to write but did anyways.

Warnings: besides extreme fluff and shenanigans, nothing to throw up the alarm for. If I did miss anything that needs tagging, please inform me right away!

New to the series? Click here

So you all bought a house at some point. How neat! What was the process like? It was pretty fun, but also stressful as hell because it was not only a big step for the entire family, but also for the relationship itself. It's strange how signing a bunch of legal documents puts the past few years into perspective.

Regarding legal custody over Nanako and Mimiko. It was agreed that Nanako and Mimiko would be formally adopted by Suguru and you, which technically makes the two of you their fully recognized, legal guardians. All three of you would have loved to sign the official adoption papers together, but the laws aren't there just yet. Satoru was fine being left out of the adoption papers since you and Suguru have normal and sane families outside of jujutsu society, so getting the papers approved was exponentially easier this way.

He still has some degree of legal custody and authority over the girls. He's signed a power of attorney, which allows him to make any legal and financial decisions if neither you or Suguru are present or incapacitated. You all also drafted a will that grants Satoru full custody over the girls should you two kick the bucket. Neither you nor Suguru have any intentions of dying anytime soon, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Having all these legal safeguards put in place gives you all a little peace of mind.

Since being raised with three parents is all they know, Nanako and Mimiko don't get why some of their classmates or even other parents think it's weird or “wrong”. They brushed it all off at first, their young minds at the time thinking the rude comments were their classmates being jealous or mad they only had two parents while they had three. As they got older and started to better understand that their family dynamic is not only nontraditional, but somewhat controversial, they took the offhanded comments and stares much more personally. They got into a few altercations in middle school. Not at the same magnitude as Megumi (thankfully), but you three were called quite often into the principal's office to discuss their behavior.

Yes, Satoru loathes these meetings just as much as you expect him to. Yes, Suguru does as well. Yes, it's usually up to you to keep your husbands calm and not give in to their urge to strangle the principal when they make blatantly underhanded comments towards you three. Don't worry, you're so used to dealing with authority figures making sly, degrading remarks right in front of you that you make sure to tear whoever it is you’re speaking with into a new one in a subtle manner. Your daughters' actions aren't the best, but neither are the actions of the people in charge of them. It's a constant battle of trying to find a middle ground that satisfies everyone involved.

Side note: You're not allowed to go to these meetings by yourself anymore. The one time you did was because of Megumi and he made the greatest mistake anyone could ever make; he got lippy with you.

Yeah, you tore him a new one too once he got it all out of his system. After that day, Megumi came to respect you as well as fear you. Mostly respect.

People eventually learn to shut up and mind their business when it comes to your family, but only after Satoru and Suguru gave them one too many death glares and intimidating gestures. Nanako and Mimiko aren't embarrassed by this at all or beg them to stop. In fact, they happily do the same to the other students too! ("What? If they get to do it, then so should we!")

Onto more light-hearted shenanigans. The one who’s most likely to pull out a whole roll of family pictures for random people given the slightest opportunity is Suguru. Satoru is a close second, but the photos he pulls out are the more embarrassing ones.

Some of his favorites are: A photo of Suguru with glittery pink bows in his hair, courtesy of Mimiko, while Nanako crookedly applies makeup on him, disgustingly blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick included. A photo of the girls drawing on your face with a permanent marker he gave them while you took a nap. A photo of Nanako and Mimiko dressed up like him, blindfold included.

Suguru and you are usually the designated shopping bag holders whenever the three of you go out to shop because Satoru doesn't know when to stop buying shit. He even buys random things too! Examples? A retro portable cd player or a second-hand gaming console from the 90's that he doesn’t even play. He even bought a saxophone once, and you're damn sure he’s never held one in his entire life.

As everyone knows, Satoru has expensive tastes when it comes to clothing. If he's stuck between two items and can't choose, he will almost always go down the "I'll buy them both!" route even though he knows there's no space to put it once you guys head back home.

His spending habits aren't entirely cluttering. Sometimes he'll buy something for you and Suguru or even for the kids. Clothes, jewelry, accessories, anything that his mind latches onto and makes him think "Oh, they'll like this!", he'll buy it without worrying about receiving something in return. How sweet!

Just kidding lmao if he gets you or Suguru a gift he accepts taking over his weekly chores as a fair trade. He's a bit less evil with Nanako and Mimiko. All they have to do is give him half of their dessert after dinner! That's all!

Speaking of Satoru being a spoiling spouse, he definitely spoiled the girls with candy when they were younger. They suffered a few cavities later down the line because he truly doesn’t know when to stop and even went behind your back whenever you told him to stop and it was a pain having to deal with. Thankfully, as they got older they gradually turned away his sneaky offers which shattered his heart into dust. It seemed like it was just yesterday when they were tugging on his shirt and begging him for an extra piece.

When it comes to Nana and Mimi's dating when they're teenagers, you’re usually the one they go to regarding that realm. When your husbands find out you’ve been in the loop and they aren't. it’s almost laughable how they expect you to share all the details with them. They’ll push and try to appeal to you to get you to loosen your tongue, but it’s glued shut over the more juicy details. The crumbs you do give them are about potential suitors but nothing more. Don’t be surprised if you find out they staked out their school to see who exactly you’ve told them about.

So, what happens if one of them brings a love interest back home or they let it slip they’re seeing someone? Tou guys are gonna invite the lucky person over, of course! Satoru and Suguru are going to interrogate and threaten them if you take your eyes off them for too long. it's sort of inevitable at this point. They can't cope with the girls growing up so quickly. You on the other hand are a bit more welcoming and lax with whoever they bring home. The general consensus is that you all will love and support whoever they decide to be with, but if the guy or gal is clearly a piece of shit scumbag they better hope none of you catch wind of this. You’re all equally overprotective when it comes to your girls.

In the event that Nanako and Mimiko decide that they want to become Sorcerers, they’re going to be met with a lot of resistance from the three of you, especially Suguru. This life isn’t one you would wish upon your worst enemy. Yes, all three of you met through this way of life, but you all had close encounters with death far more than anyone else should have to experience. Most of the people you’ve met are either dead or disfigured beyond recognition. The ones in charge are a bunch of bullshit traditionalists and Satoru and Suguru are trying to defy them with their progressive motives, which still needs to be approached with considerable caution despite them being the strongest. Needless to say, things aren’t that great within the jujutsu world and you don’t want your kids anywhere near it while the iron is still hot and constantly being struck.

If they really push the issue and show that they are dead set to follow in their parent’s footsteps, you all will give your blessings and get them enrolled at your alma mater. While the three of you still work at Tokyo tech, going back to the dormitory is very daunting and brings back both good and bad memories. What’s even funnier is that your old room still has the large mattress you bought all those years ago. It was well worn out by the time you all graduated.

Ah, the good old days of waking up either too hot or too cold, limbs entangled and someone likely drooling on the other.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #getou suguru #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #headcanon #reader insert #gender neutral reader #school days series

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lunarreaper-ut · 3 years

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How exactly did killer loose his arm? Was it cuz he got distracted or was it tactic to prevent something even worse?? ;-; how did nightmate take that sight? How did he get the idea to give killer some of his magic to make an artificial arm for him, did he knew it would work? Was it a hard or painful process for any of them?? (God i love the idea of killer getting a shadow arm from nm >w< makes him even cooler! Kyaaaaa~ still a sad thing tho uwu)

Was nightmare ever in the mood/need/curious to ask killer sing somehing (for him~)??

What ships will happen in kingdomverse??

Alsoo... Uhh dont know if thats an OK question but can they get pregnant? I wanna know if babybones are an possibility in the future? qwq

Ah yes... the Incident.

Allow me to explain the unfortunate event in which Killer almost failed at his job.

(This is gonna be heckin, and I mean HECKIN long. We got some worldbuilding ahead!)

How did Killer lose his arm?

This event happened several years after Killer began his duties as Royal Guard. Dream had already told Nightmare he no longer needed a Royal Guard, and Killer already expressed his wish to stay as one. Nightmare and Killer were frequently having their nightly visits, and things were going well.

One night, however, after Killer had returned to his room and the two had settled in for bed, something happened.

Now I haven't mentioned this before, mainly cause your questions have thankfully not uncovered it >w< During Nightmare's reign, there was much despair in the Kingdom. Negativity brings out the worst in people, as we're all aware I'm sure, and it's no wonder that some people would be driven mad by the results of Nightmare's actions.

Some people began to believe that if they worshipped Nightmare, they would be spared from his wrath and from the destruction his crafted creatures wrought. These people formed a cult dedicated to Nightmare, praising his actions and renouncing their loyalty to the Sun King. They called themselves The Corrupted.

Cults are a very hard thing to get rid of, especially if you weren't aware they existed. When Dream returned and cast Nightmare into the Void, the Corrupted hid themselves in the shadows, vowing to return only once their "True King" returns as well.

The issue arose when Nightmare did return from the Void. Nightmare, throughout his reign, was most often seen as his "transformed" self, and it was that self that The Corrupted worshipped, not Nightmare.

The Corrupted believed that they could bring back the "True King", and to do so they needed to remove the "Imposter King". The cult spent time learning the routines of the castle in order to break in to Nightmare's quarters when they were certain no one was around.

They had acquired a drug meant to incapacitate monsters and suppress their magic, and modified it to be several times as strong. Nightmare certainly wasn't at his strongest either, the Kingdom was a naturally positive place when Dream was around.

A few cult assassins threw a smoke bomb filled with the drug into Nightmare's room while he slept, and unfortunately it worked well enough. Nightmare wasn't unconscious, but he didn't have as fine of control over his magic or his own body.

The assassins came into the room, intending to kidnap Nightmare, but it's rather fortunate that Killer is a light sleeper, isn't it? Killer came into the room just as one of the assassins was about to grab Nightmare.

There was quite a few of them, as they'd been prepared for resistance, and though I hate to say it, they were skilled too. They weren't just some guy picked off the street and given a weapon, it was as if they'd been trained for years just for this moment.

It's likely they had been. Killer was having difficulties, but holding his own well enough. He would only really need to hold them off long enough for the guards to get to the room. Well, that's what he thought until he saw another assassin coming towards a practically immobile Nightmare, and he clearly wasn't intending to just kidnap the King.

Killer moved without thinking, and without his armor he was much more vulnerable to attacks... but getting injured wasn't an issue. He had to protect Nightmare at all costs, even if it meant he got hurt. That was the moment he lost his arm.

Killer didn't have time to register the pain, and slew the assassin who dared attempt to harm Nightmare. Killer was outnumbered still, and if he was having difficulties before, it was going to be impossible to hold out now.

He was lucky he didn't have to though, as several Guardsmen burst into the room. Seems they'd finally heard the commotion. The Guardsmen drove out the assassins, only managing to capture two. Killer was tended to, and he refused to leave Nightmare's side until the drug wore off.

How did Nightmare handle it?

Nightmare was half conscious in the moment, and so most of what he saw didn't register properly. It was only when the drug had worn off and he saw Killer by his side, sans one arm (Hehe), that it hit him.

Nightmare was angry first and foremost. He was angry it happened, angry Killer was dumb enough to get hurt, angry he wasn't able to resist the stupid drug, and angry that Killer seemed completely unbothered.

Nightmare didn't react well at all, and he ended up putting Killer on temporary leave. When Killer tried to refuse Nightmare said he was useless with only one arm, and Nightmare didn't need a useless Guard. Killer shut up pretty quickly.

Killer was still allowed to stay at the castle of course, but he was forbidden from coming near Nightmare's office, or taking part in any Guard duties. Nightmare believed that what happened was the stupidest thing Killer could have done, and refused to think otherwise.

It was during Killer's leave that Nightmare did research. He interrogated the cult members, and utilized glamours (Which we all know he's not fond of) in order to leave the castle without issue. Throughout his research, he spoke with the Court Apothecary regularly about Killer's injury. How was he fairing, is he at risk of dusting, is there anything to be done, stuff like that.

The Apothecary had made an offhanded comment that Killer is going to be without his arm for the rest of his life, since skeletons don't regenerate. Not unless he got enough magic to replace the missing arm at least.

He mentioned just getting a prosthetic for Killer, but that went in one ear and out the other, so to speak. Nightmare began to think about the suggestion (even though it was a joke). Nightmare had a large surplus of magic, and he thought about whether or not it was possible to somehow weave his magic with Killer's and form a new limb.

By the time Killer had returned to Nightmare, asking to return to his duties, the King had already figured out a way to properly do the procedure. He of course asked Killer if he would be allowed to do so, that he wasn't certain if it would work and that it certainly wouldn't be pretty.

Killer agreed without issue. The process was indeed a painful one... fusing Nightmare's magic with Killer's was difficult, and it was akin to taking a freezing cold needle and sewing a constantly shifting mass of energy directly to his soul. (Not actually how it worked, it's just how it felt).

The only reason Killer got through the procedure was because of Nightmare's intent. We all know that intent comes through to Monsters when involving magic, and Nightmare's intent made the process a lot less painful. Heal, fix, help, care, all those things came through to Killer.

It helped that Nightmare had a good relationship with Killer. His magic was much more willing to accept Killer's and vice versa. If this had been done between Nightmare and a stranger, it wouldn't have worked.

It took Killer a few days to work the arm properly. It was almost dead weight for a while. After that, it took even longer for him to properly fight with it, and longer still for him to be able to utilize the magic it was made with.

Has Nightmare ever asked Killer to sing for him?

Nope, Nightmare doesn't even know Killer can or that he has a good voice XD Killer has never sung in front of anyone, nor does he care to. It's just not something he does, but I imagine there could be a few scenarios where he gets coerced into it. Singing with friends, soothing a wounded animal (Yes Killer would do that, he likes small animals. They're cute.), that kind of stuff.

Nightmare's never had a reason to think Killer could sing. >w<

What Ships are going to be canon in Kingdomverse?

Well we've already got Cream, Killermare and Afterdeath as being confirmed.

Honestly I've kinda decided to leave the others more open for interpretation! If you want, you can say Errink is gonna happen, Lust could probably be someones s/o, it's all up to interpretation >w<

Theres quite the cast of characters in Kingdomverse?, and there might be more added later (if I can think of them), so honestly I'm sure there's no issue with some other ships coming to life!

Basically theres no other planned canon ships >w<

Can the skellies get preggers?

I don't see why not! Nightmare and Dream being immortals doesn't stop them from having kids, but I would say that if they did it would probably be through a different process than mortals.

I'd say that monsters need to make the conscious, or unconscious decision that they want a child or that they are ready for a child before they can have one.

Nightmare and Dream would probably be a bit difficult to have a child with purely because they have an immense amount of power and magic (even after a bond), so it might be a bit risky even for them to have kids.

(if any of you do make ship kids I want to see them though, I love baby bones >w<)

#Kingdomverse?#Kingdomverse #answered asks #lots of lore in this one!#KV!Nightmare #KV!Killer #Killermare #Cream (mentioned)

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phynali · 3 years

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so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because -

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another.

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out -

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through.

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate.

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once.

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

youtube

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better.

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot.

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper.

#ugh #personal post #just organising thoughts and bitching about present circumstances #because i'm tired of 2021's bullshit and needed to vent a bit #gpoy

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backofthebookshelf · 4 years

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One of the nice things about the way the TMA fandom has reached full large-fandom levels of toxicity is that I no longer care if people get mad at me for my opinions on characters! So, some Georgie meta.

(Because fandom is and always has been Like That, I do feel the need to clarify here that I love Georgie, she's one of my favorite characters, characters are more interesting because of their flaws, and I have no investment in the idea that women or female characters are inherently better or more emotionally competent than men or male characters. If I talk a lot about her relationship with Jon, it's because Jon is our point of view character and also the person she interacts with the most. Also, this rambles, sorry.)

I've been thinking about the Season 4 Jon Trauma post and how much I liked the way it talked about Georgie, and it's convinced me that if Georgie could feel fear, she's the one who'd be most afraid of Jon out of all of them. She's the one protagonist we have whose only interaction with the powers has been as a direct victim of them. She doesn't know what they feel like from the inside, like Jon and Melanie; she doesn't know what they're like when they're someone you love, like Basira; she doesn't even know what they're like as petty middle management, like Martin and Tim. What she knows is that one time a monster ate her (only) friend and traumatized her so badly she spent a year in a suicidal depression.

And now her ex - and yes, Jon and Georgie have a remarkably comfortable relationship in the beginning of season three, but they're still exes and they broke up for reasons, even if we don't know exactly what they are - has turned up on her doorstep, shaking and possibly bloody, with nowhere else to go and no access to his home. He's clearly lying about what's going on. He repeatedly violates her house rules. And then he tells her that he's turning into one of those same kinds of monsters that traumatized her and ate her friend. It's clearly enough to override any remaining affection she had for him, and by any definition he has now positioned himself as a trigger.

(Through no fault of his own: the only real response he has to Georgie's statement is "I can't believe you didn't tell me." She's the one who assumes that he Knew, somehow, that she also had a statement; she's the one who suggests he had alternatives. Both suggestions are plausible but we don't actually know for certain that either are true.)

But Georgie isn't afraid of Jon because Georgie can't be afraid -at least, according to her. I'm not sure how much I believe this in the grand scheme of things; it seems like an extremely unlikely mechanism for one of the fears to have. It seems much more likely to me that she's just never met anything as terrifying as that encounter was, and her subjective sense of fear has been massively recalibrated. In which case not only meeting but having hosted in your home another monster who self-describes as similar to the one that was so terrifying that literal threats to your life are no longer distressing would...probably ping. But she's conceptualized herself as a person who doesn't feel fear; it's even possible that was part of her recovery, identifying this as a possible benefit of what would otherwise have been a universally terrible, soul-breaking experience. She looked existential terror in the face and survived, and came out of it a person who cannot be afraid of anything left on this earth. That's kind of a superhero origin story, and I can't blame her for it. I think anyone with a mental illness has at least tried to find ways in which their suffering has made them a better, stronger person.

But whether she's suppressing and rationalizing away any fear she feels or she genuinely doesn't feel any of it, she does frequently behave as though her lack of fear gives her a more objective view of the situation than anyone else. I don't believe she actually uses the word "just," but it drips from her every interaction with Jon after Dead Woman Walking. Why doesn't he just stop reading the statements? Why doesn't he just quit? And, in Zombie, I honestly can't interpret her reaction to Jon when he wakes up from his coma as anything other than, Why doesn't he just die? If he hates being this so much, if he really doesn't want to be a monster, why doesn't he just die?

I really would like to think that it goes without saying that this is, at the very least, a massive failure of empathy, but she's so explicit about it and fandom spent so much time basically agreeing with her that apparently it doesn't. Not only is Georgie not afraid of the situation, but (and this is the part that makes me wonder if she's not rationalizing, rather than being supernaturally unable to feel fear) she can't possibly fathom how afraid everyone else is, and she never tries. She persists in treating the whole awful situation, as @findingfeather's post says, like this is a mundane problem with people who are refusing to help themselves, rather than a supernatural trap that has been specifically built to be inescapable.

Now, let me be clear, even if she were talking to, say, a drug addict who nearly killed themselves because they were in denial about how much of a problem they had, her attitude would be unforgivable. But in this case Jon had no choice in whether or not to become addicted to statements; it was done to him in such a way that he didn't notice it was happening until withdrawal was already incapacitating. He also didn't have the option to leave, as Tim's extended vacation made clear. And, on top of all of that, the whole reason he was in a coma in the first place was that he was trying to save the world. (Neither he nor she knows at this point that he was doing nothing of the kind, so that's really not relevant.) And - look, when Jon came to her after the end of season two, he was asking for help. When he rejected the kind of help that she offered it was because he knew it didn't apply to the problems he actually had, but she treats that like it's his problem, which is something like offering a leg splint to a person bleeding out from a gunshot wound and getting offended when they tell you that won't work. He was very clear that what was happening scared him and he didn't know what to do about it, and her only suggestion was "walk away," which he literally could not do, for multiple reasons.

She's lucky Jon has pretty much precisely zero self-worth at this point, because anyone else would have cut her off completely for behaving like a fucking asshole.

I say "she's lucky" because frankly, even though she says that she wants nothing more to do with him, she turns up at least twice in the Institute after that, with the excuse that she's picking up Melanie to take her to therapy. I don't know about you, but I have never once gone to someone's workplace to pick them up and gone snooping around inside, and no matter how fascinatingly weird that workplace is, I definitely can't imagine doing so when I know that workplace also contains a person I have definitely decided I never want to speak to again. She goes into the Archives, for Christ's sake, and she listens outside Jon's office door for long enough to catch a bit of the recording before letting herself in (so it's very clear she knows who's in there).

Now I'm not trying to paint her as a monster here; Georgie would hardly be the first person to have second thoughts about cutting off someone they still care about, or to break that boundary that they set themselves when they realize they do still want to know how that person is doing. But the fact is that she positions herself as having the moral high ground in every single discussion they have and that's just not true. She is not literally a supernatural monster, true, but if season four did anything with the concept of monsters it was breaking down the difference between "supernaturally driven no-longer-human" and "person capable of caring and empathy." (That's a whole different meta, though, one that I will get around to someday.) Not that Jon is any better, in that encounter specifically, at dealing with a complicated and contentious relationship - he deliberately goads her, even if he doesn't use compulsion. But that's the thing, they're both exes who have had a falling out and aren't handling it very well. Neither of them is in the right.

All of which makes me really wonder what her relationship with Melanie is actually like. We don't actually see hardly any of it directly, and of what we do, well, Melanie sounds like she's still high on painkillers, so it's hard to take that as an indication of anything. But given that people (who are not intentionally trying to manipulate those around them) tend to, y'know, be fundamentally the same person in their various relationships, though it may manifest in different ways, we can probably make some guesses.

I have always been bothered by, and I really can't ignore, the fact that they were getting together at the same time that Melanie was doing what Georgie has been demanding of Jon since season three: she did whatever it took to get out. I have to wonder if Georgie knows about the nonconsensual surgery part of Melanie's process of getting out, and if she does, if she understands how vital it was. I certainly wouldn't be surprised, if she does know, that she's managed to compartmentalize it: Jon inflicted this terrible trauma on Melanie, Melanie escaped the entity that took her over. (Subconscious implication: Jon is a monster; Melanie is better than him.) I would be very surprised if Georgie is interested at all in the fine distinctions between entities; she's shown no interest in learning what is actually happening to anyone in this situation beyond "it's bad and they should get out of it." But it's relevant, because by the time Melanie makes the decision to blind herself, she's in a much different position than Jon, enslaved by an entity but not consumed by one. She herself admitted to Jon that she would never have voluntarily escaped from the Slaughter.

And given how difficult Melanie finds it to talk about any of this - you can hear her dragging the words out from behind her teeth in her conversation with Jon in Flesh, truly incredible acting by Lydia Nicholas, my god - if Georgie doesn't want to hear it? I can't imagine Melanie insisting. Yes, Melanie is going to therapy, but let me tell you, I've been going to therapy for twelve years now and I have yet to have several of the important conversations my therapists have insisted I have. That shit is hard. But I can imagine a scenario where, having been told by her therapist (who, remember, doesn't have the first idea what Melanie is actually going through, because Melanie isn't telling her about the supernatural so she has to leave out a lot of really relevant details) that she ought to tell her friend/potential girlfriend/new girlfriend about these things, Melanie attempts to bring it up, Georgie says kind and reassuring things and refuses to let her clarify any of the details, and Melanie gives up in relief, thinking, well, I tried. Super valid all around, but it doesn't mean that Georgie has any clearer picture of what Melanie's traumas actually look like, never mind Jon's. There's no world in which I can imagine Georgie actually internalizing the idea that Melanie loved the Slaughter when it had her, and she would gladly have stayed with it if Jon and Basira hadn't intervened.

In Georgie's eyes, Melanie is being a Good Victim. She was hurt but she was strong; she fought it until she won; now she's going to therapy and setting boundaries and trying to heal. She got away.

(Except, of course, she didn't, because as of The Eye Opens no one has gotten away, because this is the entire world now. We have no idea how this has affected Melanie. Presumably she's out of reach of the Eye, given that Jon can't see her or Georgie (and there's some evidence on the side of Georgie's encounter genuinely having stripped her of fear, if she's also invisible to the Eye), but she spent a long time under the influence of the Slaughter. It had her firmly enough that her attacking Jon was enough to give him his Slaughter scar. If nothing else, Melanie certainly hasn't had her fear removed, and talk about a situation bound to retraumatize someone who had such a visceral revulsion to being trapped that Elias chose it as his mechanism of control over her. Melanie probably doesn't look like a Good Victim any more, and I'd bet her relationship with Georgie is suffering some serious strain because of it.)

We don't know when exactly Melanie and Georgie got together; the last time one of them mentions the other is, I'm pretty sure, when Georgie tells Jon that Melanie is back from India. So we know that Georgie and Melanie were friends; that's good, that's a good foundation for a romantic relationship. At the very least they know each other, they have some idea of what to expect. I'd be surprised if they were dating during that season 3/4 hiatus period, though, or frankly any time before Melanie's surgery, just because Melanie seems much too consumed with rage to have room for any other emotions, and I can't imagine Georgie putting up with that.

What seems way more likely to me is this: Melanie comes back from India, arranges to meet Georgie for drinks. Probably they don't talk about anything serious; possibly they talk about Jon, honestly, since we know Melanie was looking for him and Georgie talked to him about Melanie, but very likely in the same "stuck-up pompous ass" way that Melanie talks about Jon in early seasons. (I bet Melanie's roasts are amazing.) Shortly after that Melanie joins the Magnus Institute and then, very likely, either she never tells Georgie about it and therefore they don't talk much or she does tell Georgie about it and Georgie tells her that place is bad news and she won't have anything to do with it and they don't talk at all, until, whichever way that went, the Unknowing happens and Tim dies and Jon winds up in a coma and everything goes to shit. We know Georgie visits Jon in the hospital; we don't know if Melanie does, but frankly it seems unlikely. If they did cross paths during this time, it was probably very brief and superficial. Then: the surgery, and Melanie's recovery.

I'll be honest, I have a hard time imagining Melanie deciding on her own that she should go to therapy. It's possible Basira suggested it, but it really does sound like a Georgie thing to do. So I picture something like this: from the way Basira talks it sounds like they've all been pretty much living in the Archives for a while, and on top of that everyone in the Archives has just badly violated Melanie's trust, so Melanie pulls up her Facebook DMs and talks to the only other person she has. You were right, she says, this place is terrible, I can't handle it, there's no one here I can trust and I'm so alone. And Georgie, who is generous with help and advice (so long as it's accepted) and (like anyone) weak to being told she was right about something, starts talking to her. We know Georgie's got good boundaries, and we know she doesn't want to hear details about what's going on in the Institute, so I can see her saying, I can talk to you, I would love to talk to you, but not about this. For that you need a therapist.

So Melanie gets a therapist, and the prospect of going out amongst the monsters they know are stalking the Institute without that protective shield of rage (never mind the emotional vulnerability of going to therapy in the first place) makes public transit an unthinkable option, so she asks Georgie to take her, and she does, and she keeps taking her to therapy, which is, as far as we know, the only time Melanie leaves the Archives in season four, until she blinds herself and escapes it completely.

And so they have this relationship that's built up almost entirely around Melanie's trauma - with a foundation of friendship, certainly, so I do think that if they are willing to work through it they could make it a working, healthy relationship, but (and again this isn't stated in canon but is my speculation based on what we know about these characters) it is a romantic relationship that's built around the process of Melanie recovering from multiple traumas. Ones that we know that Georgie a) doesn't know many details about, and b) more importantly, refuses to know any details about. Now, I have no experience with romantic relationships and serious trauma; I might be wildly off base here. But. I know that boundaries are important and I know that trust is also important. And if Georgie is holding similar boundaries with Melanie that she has with Jon (and, as I went into excruciating detail about earlier, she has very solid emotional reasons to protect herself with those boundaries), that's drawing a hard line around what's basically the past two to three years of Melanie's life, and undeniably both the worst and most important things that have ever happened to her. That seems...difficult to manage in the long term.

(This is a bit more of a stretch, more of the germ of a fic idea than an argument I'm prepared to defend, but I also would not be surprised if Georgie told Melanie that she wouldn't date her while she was still working at the Institute. That's a very reasonable boundary, and it's good motivation - and probably healthy motivation, I do like the idea that Melanie had something to reach toward in escaping the Institute, not just the desperate flight from - but it's also something of an ultimatum. Which is not inherently bad, but it is the kind of thing that can fester, given other problems.)

Now it's entirely possible that Georgie isn't that internally consistent. People aren't! (See: Basira's attitude toward Daisy vs her attitude toward Jon in season four.) Maybe she's more flexible about being willing to listen to Melanie, maybe she's starting to understand some of what was happening and how genuinely impossible a situation it really was. But that has to be a struggle for her, too; it's not a perfect, sweet, unconditionally good situation that teaches you that you've been unfair to the point of cruelty to someone you used to care about. And by the time the apocalypse rolls around, Melanie is, if she's lucky, just barely able to say she's healed from the plain physical trauma of blinding, never mind all the other baggage. They've got to be having a rough fucking time of it, at the very least, even if you assume that they're suddenly both the kind of people who will sit still and listen supportively and talk honestly about their own messy and complicated emotions, when neither of them have been that kind of person before.

(Another disclaimer because Fandom Is Like That: This is in no way a condemnation of or argument against fluffy What the Girlfriends fic; fic is for making fluffy things that you want to happen to your faves, or building fluffy content that you desperately need for whatever reason. Gods know there are plenty of unhealthy parts of Jon and Martin's relationship that I ignore in most of my fluffy fic. This is me attempting to work through my thoughts and feelings about the relationship I see in canon in the hopes of actually being able to write some fic about these girls myself someday, because I personally can't write fic until I understand canon, and so much of them happens offscreen because they're not main characters, and they're written with such depth and complexity that you can't just slap a stereotype on them and call it good. Which is awesome! But it means I gotta do the work, and I post it because a) it's work, and this is fandom, and I want validation; and b) I'm hoping other people have insights that might also help me clarify my thinking.)

#the magnus archives #tma #georgie barker #jonathan sims #melanie king #long post #real fuckin' long post #sorry #it's a meta party #cw suicide #cw addiction

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snowdice · 4 years

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Rats, Pizza, and Supply Closets (Part of the Cuffed Universe Series)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Remus/Virgil (a bit more Logan/Remus focus)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Remus

Summary: Logan is very surprised by the fact that Remus did not come to this pizzeria with the goal to capture him, and now that they’re both here, it turns out their objectives align far more than expected.

AKA: The First Truce

This is a Cuffed Universe fic.

Previous fics in this series:

Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs

Matboards and Subway Sandwiches

Espionage and Iced Coffee

Popcorn and Podcasts

Extras:

Moving Day

Notes: Non-consensual drug use mentioned, morally grey Logan, cop Remus, being restrained, one theoretical mention of eye injuries, human trafficking mentioned

Look at the boys! They’re getting along! Well.... Remus and Logan are getting along.

One would think, that is, one would think if one had even a single iota of sense in one’s monkey brain, that it would be difficult for a new hire to so quickly gain access to the location that one’s underground drug dealing operation ran out of. Particularly, one would think one would be cautious after having recently refused to pay for services from a cybercriminal.

Luckily for Logan, it seemed Haynes had a few disconnected synapses in his brain, and all it had taken was a fake ID and some forged paperwork to get hired on as a handyman for the business he used for money laundering. In addition to his work dolling out controlled substances, Haynes also owned a local rip off of a Chuck E Cheese called Cheeezeee the Cheese Rat. It was a dirty establishment with questionable food offerings and even more questionable decor.

Many times this week, Logan had found himself distracted by the large mural of a rat made out of cheese who was holding a smaller hunk of cheese as though he planned to eat it. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the image in horror, his mind desperately searching for some meaning in the piece. Was it meant to be a visual representation of pantheism wherein all things no matter the way humanity views them are ultimately the same and are god? That god is the creator, consumer, and consumed and god is reality itself. Was is a commentary on thoughtless, damaging consumption whereupon in one’s hunger and lust one eventually consumes themselves thereby destroying the vessel which one seeks to feed? Was the commissioner just deranged?

“Dude, for the 50th time, it is just a mural of a dumb character for kids,” the woman standing at the counter in the middle of the kitchen said as she sprinkled what could maybe pass for cheese on slabs of glorified cardboard the establishment called pizza crust. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just stop thinking about it and fix the sink.”

Logan tore his eyes away from the monstrosity he’d been staring at through the kitchen food window for the past minute and turned his attention back to the tool kit he’d been provided. He selected the correct tool and climbed back under the sink. He listened to the sounds of the woman continuing to make the “pizza.” Honestly, even if Logan did not know they were selling drugs out of the back, he still may have reported them to the authorities based solely on their food handling practices. In fact, perhaps the food was a worse offence considering that those buying their drugs knew they were purchasing and consuming harmful substances.

The underside of the sink he was under was disgusting, but the work wasn’t difficult. He’d learned enough about being generally handy from his father when he was young, and he had brushed up on those skills in the first apartment he’d shared with Virgil as that landlord did not care enough to fix things in a timely manner.

He still had his head under the sink when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. He recognized Haynes’ voice as soon as the man spoke. He was explaining a few things about how his operation ran to whoever else was there. He used vague terms, but it was still a rather risky move with Logan and the “chef” in the same room, though it was quite possible she was in on the drug selling as well.

Logan finished fixing the sink without paying the conversation much mind; he already knew why he was here, and it was not to glean information. Logan intended to swipe what the man owed him as well as a steep amount of interest for his trouble. Then, he planned to send all of the information he had acquired about the business to the local law enforcement and let them deal with the rest.

He slid out from under the sink and glanced up. Immediately, he met the eyes of one of the room’s occupants and froze. He and Officer Remus Royal stared at each other for a few long moments before Remus tore his gaze away and looked back at Haynes. Logan breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to confront Logan in front of the drug dealer. That would have very likely ended badly for them both.

No longer being directly watched, though he imagined Remus was still tracking his movement from the corner of his eyes, Logan cleaned up his tools slowly and stood. His next task was to change a few lightbulbs behind the stage of the animatronic show, and while things had inevitably just changed, he still planned to at least keep up appearances until he could come up with an escape plan. He left the kitchen and moved towards the supply closet. He stored the toolbox there and his hand hovered over one of the screwdrivers for a moment, but he ultimately decided to leave it be. Remus was an inconvenience, but he couldn’t see himself stabbing the man through the eye socket with a screwdriver. He turned to the box of lightbulbs, wondering if he should take them with him or just completely throw out any pretenses of still intending to complete his handyman duties. That decision was made for him when the closet door suddenly opened.

Logan tensed for a fight, mind analyzing the situation. He didn’t have the element of surprise and Remus was bigger, but it was a smaller space that was more familiar to Logan. For most opponents, he’d want to try to angle them away from anything that could prove a fatal or extremely harmful improvised weapon, but in all the times Remus and he had fought in the past, the man always gentled his touch before it could do any true harm and never applied excessive force. Logan had found himself extending the same courtesy. So, in this case, the strategy would be to try to push him towards more deadly weapons which he would be unwilling to utilize. Of course, Remus still had the advantage as he was nearer to the door and Logan was more pinned into the back of the closet, but there was also a light switch right next to Logan and if he could turn it off…

“What are you doing here?” Remus asked the second the door closed behind him.

Logan hesitated. “You seem surprised. Are you not tracking me?”

His body language seemed to communicate that he didn’t intend to jump at Logan in the immediate future, but Logan still eyed him suspiciously. “Believe it or not,” Remus said. “I do have other jobs to do besides chasing you. I honestly did not expect to find you fixing a sink in a crappy pizzeria.”

“You’re truly not here for me?”

“You sound hurt,” Remus teased. “Apologies, I thought you knew this was an open relationship. I see other criminals all the time. Don’t you see other cops?”

“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to even partially keep up with me.”

“Well, I’ve been told I have quite the stamina,” he said, eyes sparkling.

Logan shifted slightly to the side but stilled again when Remus’s eyes immediately tracked the movement. “Stamina doesn’t provide much advantage when stuck in a closet with your opponent,” Logan said idly.

“Oh, I’d beg to differ,” he said lowly.

“So why are you here?” he asked instead of engaging.

“I’m undercover to help bring down Haynes,” Remus said. “He’s into some even skeevier stuff than his rat-infested restaurant”

“I’m aware,” Logan said. “I was actually planning to send an anonymous tip to local law enforcement when I was finished here, though it seems that will be unnecessary now.”

“You were?” Remus asked. “Why?”

“He owes me money, and besides that, he’s an asshole.”

“Asshole might be an understatement for a human trafficker.”

“A what?” Logan asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know?” he asked, and suddenly the rat themed restaurant for kids took on an even more dark nauseating tone.

“I wouldn’t have done any work for him at all if I’d had even an inkling that he partook in that business as well,” Logan spat. “I’m taking him down even harder now.”

There was a moment of silence where Remus considered him, eyes unreadable and head slightly tilted. “So, we’re both here for the same reason,” he said.

“I guess we are.”

“Huh.”

“If you attempted to arrest me, it would blow your cover,” Logan pointed out and tilted his head, “and it would make my objective more difficult as well. Considering the severity of his crimes, would you be willing to make a temporary alliance just to make sure Haynes gets what he deserves?”

“Are you going to drug me at the end of it?” Remus asked.

“We’ll institute a 20-minute grace period after we’re finished. You don’t attempt to arrest me, and I don’t attempt to incapacitate you after we complete our objective.”

Remus took a moment to think through the offer, and then shoved his hands in his pocket. “Deal.”

“Very well,” Logan said. “So…”

The closet door was opened suddenly by a figure in one of the restaurant’s uniforms. “Wha-?” he started, but Remus reacted quickly, grabbing the person and slamming his hand over his mouth. Logan leaned forward and shut the door once Remus has wrestled him inside.

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Oh! Hey Virge,” Remus said in surprise. “You’re working at a pizzeria now?” Virgil tried to respond, but whatever he said was muffled by Remus’s hand. “Oh, right,” Remus said. “I’m going to uncover your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream.”

Virgil nodded vehemently.

“Wait,” Logan said, his eyes narrowed on Virgil. “He’s lying. He’s going to scream.”

Virgil shook his head in denial.

“I know you Virgil,” Logan said. “I can tell when you’re lying.” There was always a crinkle between his eyes because he overcorrected on trying to look earnest.

Virgil made a muffled whining sound in the back of his throat.

“Look,” Remus sighed. “I’ll take my hand off your mouth. Don’t scream, and we’ll talk it out, okay Virgil?”

Virgil nodded again, crinkle still prevalent between his eyes, and Logan pressed his lips together to watch.

Remus slowly removed his hand from Virgil’s mouth. There was a short moment of silence. Then… “AAAAmphpmphmpmphpm.” Logan slapped his own hand over the man’s mouth when he started to yell.

“I told you he was going to scream,” Logan commented idly.

“Mphfmkr,” was the angry reply as he tried to fight against Remus’s hold.

Remus sighed. “I was trying to be nice to you, Virge. Now we have to gag you.”

Virgil’s struggling increased, but Remus was easily able to hold him. Logan and Remus awkwardly managed to exchange their hands, so Logan was able to turn around and search the shelves for something to gag him with.

“Here,” Logan said. “This rope is still packaged so it should be clean.”

Virgil whined it protest.

“Well it’s that or duct tape, Virgil and I don’t relish in the pain that would doubtlessly result from the process of removing it.”

“Fmf. Ff.”

It was a struggle to get the rope between his teeth, but they managed it after a bit of wrestling. “Can I borrow your handcuffs?” Logan asked Remus.

“This time he asks,” Remus snarked, but handed them over.

Virgil made muffled irate noises behind the rope as he was cuffed to the metal shelving unit; Logan imagined whatever the man was trying to say was quite inspired.

“Sorry Virge,” Remus said, patting him on the head. “See you later.”

They shut the closet door behind them, and Logan locked the door with the keys he’d been provided. He handed the keys to Remus. “You’ll let him out after?” he asked.

“Of course,” Remus said. “I’ve got the emo.”

Logan nodded and turned from the closet. “Let’s go get a rat,” he said darkly.

Want to read more? The next installment is:

Kisses and Thai Noodle Leftovers

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #virgil sanders #intruanalogical #adriana writes #cuffed universe #cop remus #morally grey logan #non-consensual drug use #drugs mentioned #being restrained #eye injury mentioned #human trafficking mentioned

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #19: Your Worth

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: canon Lemon: no CW: none

“Your Majesty, it is time for dinner,” a voice called out in time with gentle knocking.

“I’ll be right there Kai, thank you,” replied Elsa.

She just needed to finish these papers before tomorrow so that she could ensure that there would be no delays in important matters. If Kai just came to call her, she reasonably had about seven minutes to finish up before she had to spend the other three walking to the table to prevent Anna from getting concerned. Her sister was ever the worrier, and the one who ensured that Elsa didn’t just lock herself away forever and accidentally die of starvation.

She found that minutes went by quickly when trying to do work. It took time to read the documents, time to deliberate on the best course of action, and even more time to put words to paper. This was of course followed by staring at it nervously, unsure if it was the best decision.

As predicted, the clock hit the seventh minute too quickly so she got up and went down. Food was hardly appetizing when she thought about the damage her winter could have caused in its short eternity. Still, she had to eat to keep up pretenses. If she didn’t, Anna would get worried and keep her at the table for longer. That wasn’t affordable.

Anna was waiting at the table, as expected. Elsa thought she saw a small frown on her lips but she blinked and Anna’s face returned to its usually smiling countenance. Must have been another trick of her mind.

“Oh, hey Elsa. Everything okay?” Anna asked.

“Just busy. You know how things get.” replied Elsa.

“Yeah, I do.” Anna sounded somewhat subdued in saying that.

Still, Elsa had to get back. After a delightful but short (or perhaps not short, but hurried in royal terms) dinner, she got up to go. She winced as her chair scraped as she pushed it back in. Hopefully she hadn’t spent more than fifteen minutes at the table. Any more than that and she would be wasting time that had not been allotted to food.

Thankfully, it seemed that Anna hadn’t noticed a thing. If anything, she sounded somewhat tired.

‘Maybe Anna could use a break from her princessly duties.’

It seemed like a good idea too. As queen, she knew that she could–had to–handle all of her royal duties. It was also painful to see the normally vibrant Anna seem to dull. That just wasn’t right. Anna was the light of castle and to see her stressed seemed wrong.

The best solution then, was not only a vacation, but also to clamp down on her own stress tighter. Concealing was something Elsa tried not to do, but she also knew it to be necessary at times. This was one of those.

Vowing to do better, Elsa shut herself in her office to continue working. The candle had long burnt low by the time she dared sleep enough to ensure some quality of decision-making.

_______________

Anna sat at the dinner table, concern written all over her features. As the minutes passed, her brow furrowed, her mouth tightened, and her hands twitched nervously. Again, Elsa was late for dinner. She continually did this but never seemed to comment on it!

What on earth could be taking her this long? Elsa always excused it by citing her royal duties, but Anna also knew that couldn’t be true. Or at least, not the full truth. She might just have been the spare, but she was also given royal lessons just in case Elsa was ever incapacited or unable to rule! How did Elsa expect those lies to even pass?

Anna hadn’t wanted to say anything before but this was beginning to worry her. Elsa looked haggard and tired, massive dark circles beneath her eyes. She barely ate or slept, and spent all her time in her study. At first it seemed like diligence. But what kind of hard work meant that you ran your body into the ground?

Ah, there she was. It made her heart hurt to see Elsa’s expression so far-away and mechanical. It wasn’t right seeing her like this. So, Anna decided to broach the topic with conversation.

Anna ached even more when all she could get was a wooden response from Elsa. This confirmed it. Something was terribly wrong with Elsa and she would get to the bottom of it, somehow some way. Like usual, they ate in near silence and she was hardly surprised when Elsa got up and did not even excuse herself more than a quiet mumble before leaving.

That night, Anna looked for Kai before anything else. He had been attending to nightly duties when she caught him. She had not even brought a light in an attempt to stay discreet.

“Kai?” Anna whispered.

Kai startled and very nearly dropped the candleholder, sending rivulets of hot wax traveling down the candle’s length. He thrust it into Anna’s face and seemed prepared to tell off whoever spoke. His eyes widened and the wind seemed to rush out of him just as quickly when he recognized who it was.

“Princess Anna?” Kai whispered back.

“Yes? Listen, Kai, I’m worried about my sister and I was hoping you would help me,” Anna said. No point in prolonging things.

“Of course your highness. I will do anything you ask of me,” replied Kai. He hesitated before adding, “Though I too am rather concerned about her.”

“Can you tell me why? She won’t say a thing and I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. Why does she always shut me out?”

Kai laid a hand on Anna’s shoulder and sighed.

“I could not tell you. But I suspect that she has always struggled with deep worries, especially for you. Her worry is often born of love, and it might be best for you to check on her tomorrow.”

Anna’s face fell. That was it? No investigating tonight for whatever might be happening to Elsa? Seriously?

“Are you sure? We could check on her now and find out!” Anna whisper-yelled.

“Yes, we probably should. It would be good to ensure that she sleeps well, since she has seemed more tired as of late.” Kai said.

Having gained an ally, Anna led Kai to Elsa’s study to wait. They were just going to see how long Elsa took to stop working on whatever she had been working on. It couldn’t be that long, right?

The correct answer was that it was that long. The sky had begun to lighten by the time they noticed that Elsa blew out her candle. They could see the stones outside now, though they were still matte in the fading night’s light. Anna was thankful too- this part of the castle was rather drafty, especially at night.

Still. Anna glanced at Kai and he gave her a knowing look. Tomorrow then. She definitely needed to talk to Elsa about this no matter what.

_______________

Indeed, on that fateful morning in Arendelle, Anna finally confronted Elsa about that behavior of hers.

Elsa herself woke to a rather normal start. She was curled up in the chair-bed of a sort that she had fashioned some time before. Ugh, her back hurt. No matter what, there were just positions that people were not meant to sleep in. That apparently, was one of them. It occurred to her that these poor sleeping positions might accumulate, but that was an acceptable sacrifice.

‘I didn’t oversleep, did I?’

Elsa looked out the window to look at the position of the sun. Crap. She had overslept, even if it was by a scant few minutes. Future her would be cursing those minutes lost, especially if they were just the minutes that she would not have but need. Hindsight was something terrible alright.

Sighing, wishing she could have more time but knowing better, Elsa stood and stretched. She would do the morning paperwork in those next twenty minutes and depending on how quickly she did each task (within the time allotted), she might have time to do some of her morning grooming as well.

The work chair taunted her with long scrapes on the floor below. Worn, the offending divots reminded her of the paperwork ahead. She blinked, and they were faded. Probably a trick of the mind from exhaustion. But she could not afford leisure lest the feelings of laziness creep back up on her.

Then why did she dread this so?

Her fingers wrapped around either side of the wooden back, but as she began to pull, a knock sounded at the door. It was the most familiar knock of her life, to say the least.

“May I come in?” asked the person.

“Anna?” asked Elsa, who had already begun to fumble with the lock, “Yes, of course.”

She opened the door, and true to word, it was Anna. Immediately, she knew something was wrong. Anna stared- no, glared- with accusing eyes and her lips were pressed together. Her movements were curt and careful, and the door was shut behind her as she stepped in and observed the dreadful mess of a room.

Anna swallowed. Then, like a judge dropping a gavel to give judgement, spoke.

“Elsa, we need to talk.”

Elsa’s eyes widened ever so slightly and her chest felt like someone had violently grabbed her by the heart and the heart alone. Her breath left her for a moment.

“Um, yes? What is it? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Elsa said, with a shaky smile.

“I’m fine. It’s you that I’m worried about.” Anna replied.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong, I’m keeping up with everything.” said Elsa.

“Okay first off, you’re lying. Second, you’re more than keeping up. I don’t even know what you’re doing at this point, you should not be doing this much.” Anna said, and pointed an accusing finger at the mass pile of papers at Elsa’s desk.

“I’m not- I’m not lying. And Anna, I have to. It’s my duty as queen.” Elsa said.

“Yes, you are. You’re blushing and starting to stutter. You never do that! And don’t give me that ‘I must do it to be the bestest queen ever’. That’s not true.” said Anna.

Elsa frowned, and tried a different approach. No no no no no, this was not supposed to happen! Anna wasn’t supposed to notice or worry, she would atone, and everything would be well!

“How would you know? It’s not like you’re the queen.” Elsa said. Immediately, she knew she made a mistake when Anna seemed to grow annoyed, or perhaps furious. She was inclined to believe furious.

“Maybe not, but I still got royal lessons. And none of those lessons said that it was anything like this!” Anna shouted.

“Well it is, it has to be!” Shouted Elsa back.

Anna swallowed before continuing. “Please, Elsa, I’m worried about you. You’re falling apart right in front of my eyes and I don’t know what to do. Tell me what’s wrong! Whatever it is, just say it out loud- let me help you!”

Oh.

Anna just wanted to help her and like the foolish jerk she was, Elsa just pushed her away again. Why? Why was she like this? Why could she just never do the right thing? Everything she ever did just came with a dark consequence that she should have foreseen.

“Anna, I…” Elsa stared at Anna, her own eyes beginning to water. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry. I just. I thought that maybe, just maybe if I did all my work then I’d- then I’d…”

Elsa trailed off and never could finish her sentence. Anna seemed to process this for a moment before wrapping Elsa into a deep hug.

“It’s not your fault, and it never was. I don’t know how to convince you, but it isn’t.” Anna tightened the hug. “What you need is a break. A vacation really.”

Elsa’s insides twisted painfully again. “Anna, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can, and you will. It’s for your own good.”

“But what about the kingdom? It won’t run itself.”

“Run itself?” Anna scoffed. “Elsa, you’ve probably done enough work to keep it running for at least a month or more, including emergencies.”

“But I-”

“No buts. We are doing this. Kai already told the court that you will be holding an extended leave of health.”

Elsa gaped. “He did?”

“Yes, because we all care about you. I care about you!”

Elsa slumped in Anna’s arms and weakly tried to keep up her side of the hug.

“Okay.”

_______________

Their retreat was to a small wooden cabin near a currently frozen lake. Anna silently thanked Kristoff yet again for being an ice harvester. His job came in handy so much, more than one would expect.

The lake itself was gorgeous. Windy swirls of snow fluttered above the gleaming lake, which reflected the sunlight in various patterns. The shore smelt pleasantly of freshwater, and the very land was friendly and welcoming. The perfect place to rest to prevent any undue stress.

Whatever happened to Elsa was terrifying and filled her with worry and sadness. Elsa seemed so frightened and on the point of breaking there, in the study that day. Anna couldn’t determine why. But she knew that Elsa shouldn’t have those under-eye bags or have gotten so haggard. For crying out loud- she was beautiful!

But something did happen. Maybe it had to do with the frozen heart. Yeah, that sucked, but they cured it with true love! How could Elsa feel bad about that? Heck, even the ‘eternal winter’ of roughly two days did nothing! As it turned out, magical frost was much healthier for plant life than regular frost.

Currently, she sat by the shore on top of an old, fallen log. It was a good place for thinking and daydreaming, but it was also a good spot to talk with Elsa with. They would get to the bottom of this, Elsa would get better, and she would support her every step of the way through.

That was true love.

At some point, Elsa came to sit next to her. It was a quiet affair, the earlier events still replaying in her mind like a broken reel. What could have, what was, what might be all danced in her head, fighting for dominance.

As it turned out, being trapped in your thoughts lent itself to a particular lacking of speech. That was okay though, because silence was a good healer too.

_______________

A few days later, Elsa dropped the first hints to how she felt.

It was so difficult, the words stuck themselves in her throat. Her eyes watered and her throat became thick with unshed desire. At times it felt almost as if she had cast a geas on herself, unable to speak due to her own mind disobeying her whims.

But Elsa found some work-arounds. The silencing was not intelligent, she could allude if not speak. She could hope that Anna might infer what she meant if she had not already.

Once again, they sat on the log together in comfortable silence. Elsa went to speak but spoke nothing because her tongue disobeyed and her throat filled up with air. It hurt to try and say anything, it hurt to try and even allude. But she had to- she was drowning and needed the hand.

“Hey.”

A single word. Now for another in the call and response of speech.

“Hey.” Anna echoed.

“I love you.” Elsa smiled, contented. Maybe Anna would get closer to the right conclusion this way.

“I love you too.” Anna replied, giving her a glance.

Their hands landed on the same spot on the log. Daring, Elsa did not move. Feeling comfortable, she leaned slightly against Anna’s shoulder. Two displays of attachment. Of the love between them.

Whispering, she spoke. Whispering was always easier, hiding from the thing blocking her words. But these were easy words to speak.

“That really was something, huh.”

“It was true love.”

Anna sounded so content, so happy that Elsa felt okay for the first time in a long while. Maybe she truly wasn’t as unredeemable as she had believed.

They sat on the log together for a long while, flesh to flesh, comfort to comfort. It was only natural to love the touch of another.

_______________

More time passed. Elsa seemed to have an easier time of trying to say what it was that bothered her so, but Anna knew what it was. It was lovely really, being able to spend time with Elsa. They had never quite had the chance before, and Elsa soon shut herself up when the chance came.

Moreover, she longed to spend time with the person who apparently felt true love for her. Anna adored Elsa, more than anybody else in the world. But she just couldn’t tell what that meant. In the stories, true love was between lovers not sisters. Besides, how would she know that it wasn’t a similar infatuation to that of say, Hans?

Or maybe Kristoff. But while she loved Kristoff, it was always in a much less intense way than she loved Elsa. But how did that make sense? They were sisters, they were of the same mother and blood- how could they not love each other more than anything? And yet, and yet the books in the library always had the girl go for the guy. The guy! Elsa was a girl. Was it okay to love girls?

Well it must be because guys loved girls, and children loved moms, and moms loved daughters. But was that the same type of love? Children kissed their parents and parents kissed each other but neither would ever commit the opposite with the other. Was a sisterly kiss different than a romantic kiss? She didn’t know, they had been separated too young for her to remember. Did it have to be marked by kisses to be guy-girl love?

Love could be expressed by all sorts of gestures! Like hugs, hand-holding and touching, cuddling, spending quality time, gifts, declarations of it! Wait. Wait a second. Wasn’t that what she did with Elsa all the time? They acted like a guy-girl type of love all the time! And if they were true loves, then girl-girl loves must be possible. But how could being sisters come into it? She’d never seen any type of sisterly love in her books that followed the vein of theirs. But maybe that was okay too. Those sisters weren’t denoted by true love. That didn’t make the love any less real.

And maybe, just maybe, if she felt that way, then maybe Elsa did too. At that moment, Kai’s words rang through her head.

‘Her worry is often born of love.’

Her worry is often born of love. Anna knew, in her heart of hearts, that there were two types of loving worry. The motherly worry, and the romantic worry. Elsa was not her mother, and she never tried to be. So it had to be the romantic, loving worry.

It occurred to Anna that maybe that was why Elsa was so concerned as to destroy herself. Maybe that was why it was so hard for Elsa to voice why she did it. Because she did it out of love, and the grief from causing harm overwhelmed her. If true love was that powerful, then pain about the love must be of equal magnitude.

At that moment, Anna knew what she had to do.

It wouldn’t be quick. It wouldn’t be easy. But it would work. She had to show Elsa that it was okay, that she had done no wrong. And maybe she couldn’t do it. Not yet. And she had to accept that, to help Elsa’s wellbeing. They had all the time in the world, and she was nothing if not a romantic.

_______________

They spent even longer at the cabin. True to word, it seemed that the kingdom had not fallen apart in Elsa’s absence. In fact, it seemed to almost be prospering from Kristoff’s reports.

Elsa didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing. What she did know was that the kingdom had not suffered terribly from her curses on it. Anna was still here, and the crops were said to have been bountiful.

She felt a quiet stirring of hope long thought dead that perhaps her atonement would be enough, was enough. It had to be enough, but something in her mind quietly said that it didn’t have to. Somewhere along the way, something had reawoken inside her.

Her counting the time and seconds to a precise schedule began to fade while they were there. She at first had found herself counting constantly, aching for her desk, shivering with cold sweat knowing that all would go wrong without her there.

Or maybe more wrong, considering her disastrous coronation.

But it didn’t. Nothing happened, and as the fear eased so too did her block. It no longer felt like a great cinder stuffed into her throat to punish her. It was still there, but smaller to where she could speak directly around it. Some words were still trapped, but many were not.

Anna sat on the log, waiting for her again. It had become routine for them to quietly sit and watch the sun set while leaned against each other in a seemingly slight display of care.

“Hey Els.”

Not even her full name, a nickname. They had picked this up some time before. It thrilled Elsa in ways she didn’t understand.

“Hey Anna.”She replied quietly and tried to wrap an arm around Anna’s back and lean. Anna reciprocated and wrapped her arm around Elsa’s shoulders.

The sky was truly gorgeous today, and the silence between them was now something of comfort rather than of painful misery.

Anna liked to talk about true love a lot. Her theories, her ideas- all of which made a lot of sense. Elsa had a horrible suspicion that they might not be socially acceptable, but they were wonderful to hear all the same. Her ideas on love in general, on the person, on emotions- Elsa loved to soak it all up.

And now, more than ever, it felt safe to be with Anna. She didn’t feel like she was too dangerous to harm the most important person in the world.

It felt good.

_______________

On the most important day of their stay, and among the last, the two were ice-skating together. It was a dizzying ballet of trust and delight, as both laughed with glee on the ice.

Anna was happy beyond measure. There would never be a good enough word in the english language to describe her ecstatic joy. The break had worked. The long time spent helping Elsa heal- it worked, and it showed.

She had never in her life seen Elsa this happy since the accident. And yet here she was, like nothing had happened. They were so close now, and it might have been due to something in Elsa breaking. She still didn’t know what it was that had hurt Elsa so, but she didn’t want to. Some things were not worth the pain, though the reward was the sweetest.

She didn’t even know if that sort of affliction might come back to hurt Elsa again. What she did know was that if it did, she would kick its butt all over again, with the power of true love. Well maybe not true love exactly, but its components. Patience. Kindness. Compassion.

As Elsa glided over the ice, Anna came up behind her and made their solo performances into a duo. Elsa turned with a peaceful smile and determined eyes.

“You know, all I ever wanted to do was atone.”

Atonement. All this time. That single word. Atone for things that she thought she had done terribly. Cruel fate for casting false guilt on her beloved!

“Aw, there was nothing ever you had to atone for.” Anna said, smiling.

“Yeah, but now I have you.” Elsa replied.

“You always had me, Elsa.” said Anna.

“But I’m not scared anymore, and I love you more than anything Anna.” Elsa said softly.

“And I love you more than anything.” said Anna.

Anna buried her face in Elsa’s neck and pulled both their arms into a silent hug. Then there was only their loving silence and the soft schk of blades on ice.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “For Peace.”

Some more stuff involving humanity and the Drev war.

WARNING: this may be graphic? It wasn’t meant to be that, but I just thought I should warn you there is blood involved.

She definitely had not intended come. She wasn’t a soldier, and the idea of the war made her sick to think about, she knew it needed to happen, but that didn’t mean she lied it. The Runi weren’t exactly known for their war practices. In fact, in their history war had only been talked about as a theoretical possibility based on the idea of outing a poor government structure, but since the rundi had never had a poor government structure, there was no need for war.

But this was different, the Drev had only recently managed space flight, and because of their nomadic clan-like life no one had assumed their planet was inhabited . There was no infrastructure, and with the volcanic activity…. Well.

They generally tried to avoid meeting new species when they were at this point in space travel development. However, the Drev were smarter than they first appeared. They had had the ability to go to space for a long time, but never bothered to test it because it just wasn’t important to their culture. When they finally had left their planet, they ended up running into a Tesraki ship, which was trying to requisition precious metals from one of their moons.

Contact had been made peacefully enough with linguistics experts from the GA appearing and easily figuring out the Drev language.

It was a simple thing, very straight forward.

But the Drev just couldn’t fight their baser instincts, and that was to make war. After a slight insult based on cultural misunderstanding, the Drev leaders had promised to turn their sights to the stars conquering and fighting where they went. The GA had made a decision to push to destroy the technology that would allow them to do such a thing, but based on atmospheric composition, and the way they had hidden their technology deposits, this was about more than carpet bombing their facilities.

They had to actually go in.

And that was determined to be harder than they intended. The Drev War practices may have appeared primitive, but their tactics were not. They had been losing the battle, and even with the augmentation to their army with human troops and technology, they were being pushed back every day.

Officers were threatening to pull back off planet and just wait for the Drev to leave before blasting them to bits, but Drev shield technology was actually rather advanced and would take more than a little work to destroy.

Now she was here, having landed in one of the desolate lava fields before being secretly transported by hovercraft towards the very back of the front line. They could have landed closer, but the amount of ash towards the front was unprecedented and there were warning against trying to fly in such conditions

Her arrival was kept quiet, as she was ushered into what they had dubbed the FOB (forward operating base). Humans in strange patterned uniforms marches past in groups carrying their strange explosive sticks their heads covered by helmets and their face by masks. Little flakes of ash were falling from the sky and coating the ground in a thick layer that covered her feet as she walked.

The soldiers themselves were smeared with the ash, and blended heavily into the background making it difficult for her to make them out.

Large tents had been set up, and she could hear the strange guttural chant of human voices from inside. A tent flap was pushed back, and she looked inwards to see ash stained humans sitting around fires talking and interacting with each other.

Guards stood on lone vigils at the corners of the camps.

They had made it some way onto the base before being met by a familiar face. The human admiral was looking somewhat worse for wear, his face was covered in a layer of stubble, and his skin was covered in a layer of grime. His eyes once so gleeful were cold and hard almost haunted.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral…. How goes the battle.”

He man turned motioning her further into the camp, “I’m afraid not very well. We had assumed based on their more primitive war practices, that this would be an easy fight, however with the thick clouds of ash visibility is drastically reduced, and our ranged weapons become…. Almost pointless. They are generally right on top of us before we know they are there, and in that case they have the advantage. Their tactics are swift and brutal, they don’t necessarily aim to kill for some strange reason, but to brutally incapacitate usually by taking off limbs.”

She felt herself grow uncomfortably sick, “They take of limbs?”

“Yes dismemberment seems to be their favorite war tactic if they can manage it, and because we can’t see through this damned ash, not even our drones can, they always seem to have the upper hand, we've been pushed back almost constantly over the past month, and our soldiers are in pretty bad shape.” he walked further into the camp explaining how things ran and how the battle was fairing.

From his accounts, though he did not say it.

Not well.

The line had pulled back, and there were only three bases in operation aside from this one. Communications were being stalled do the volcanic activity, and that included satellite communications. They had no GPS no radar, and the drones wouldn’t fly in such thick ash.

All together it was as the human had put it

‘a shit show.’

He motioned her to follow after him.

“There is something…. I think you need to see.” Nervously she followed after the human’s long powerful strides easily able to keep up on her own long legs, but finding she was nowhere near as graceful as the human.

She watched him quietly from behind noting the slight slump of his shoulders and the weary way in which he walked feet dragging through the ash leaving long trails behind him. Had the human been so droopy before?

She couldn’t remember.

She wasn’t aware that humans could wilt?

They made their way past a group of men heading back from patrol. They were covered in ash and conversing quietly amongst one another. Her translation software had only so far a range, but she thought she heard them speaking about dismemberment.

They walked past another set of tents before stopping by a more established building.

He motioned her to step inside with him, and together with her guards they walked inside. Greeting them was a troop of humans and a Tesraki wearing HAZMAT gear.

They were ordered to gear up in protective covering before stepping into a second room where they were hosed off from all the ash. Spinning tendrils of dark ash spun towards a drain in the floor until the outside of their suits were relatively clean.

He paused before the door turning to look back at her from behind the surgical mask he wore, “What you are about to see ...is the epitome of the cost of war.” With one hand, he pushed the curtain aside and they stepped into a long, dark room lined from beginning to end with dozens of mats spaced evenly over the floor, and on each one of the mats lay a body.

She froze in the tent staring suddenly caught by the sound.

Soft moaning.

Keening

And the horrific wheezing gasp for air.

Other humans wandered through the triage tent tending to their wounded with soft words.

The man’s face had twisted into an angry snarl, “Fo the past few months the ash has restricted our access to supplies. Our ships can’t land for fear of gumming up the engines. We have been unable to replace our lost equipment, and so have only rudimentary medicine in order to treat our wounded.” He stepped up a row of wounded shivering under emergency blankets faces covered in light layers of sweat.

“This will be the first supply run we have received in weeks and with it the ability to take some of our wounded back to where they can get proper medical attention. Infection has been rampant despite our best efforts. Without modern technology, it’s like we are living in the goddamned dark ages.”

“Did you not bring these supplies when you first started the campaign.”

The man sighed in frustration, “We did but we, ‘I’ was overconfident. Our first three outposts were overrun by those beetles and with it most of our medical supplies.” he motioned around the room, “Those you see here are the men and women who managed to survive despite proper medical attention.”

The Rundi chairwoman tried not to look, tried not to see the horror that was in front of her, but there was no use, there was no turning away from that which she did not want to see. She glanced down at the humans splayed on piles of blankets and shivering with fever. She didn’t know much about humans, but she was vaguely aware of their ability to fight off infection by heating their bodies to unusual heat in order to burn off the infection.

It was supposedly an unpleasant process.

The human paused kneeling down next to one of the bodies pulling a blanket over the chest of a shivering human, “We ran out of painkillers two days ago.”

She was unable to keep her eyes away falling on one of the humans to her side. What she saw nearly had her running form the tent in shock and horror. The human that lay before her…. Was missing both of its legs. She…. at least she thought it was a she, opened feverish eyes mouth opening and lips trembling before her eyes rolled back. Bandages dark with ash and stained with red were tied about the stumps of her legs.

She lay on the floor quiet and unaided by medical technology.

Technology they should have had

Her vision widened finally forcing her to take in the view around her to match a symphony of moaning agony, guttural animal sounds to signify their pain. Whimpers and groans and weeping that died away only to be replaced by more.

The pitiful wailing of the dying.

“We are losing men, and we are doing it fast. A good portion of what we originally sent to you have either died or are in states like this.” A moan from her side, and she looked down to find a young man missing an arm, a rag covering both of his eyes. A yellow liquid stained the cloth.

She felt sick.

“With the transport you brought us a lot of our people will be able to get off and get medical attention. We have people moving them now. If all goes well, most of them should live.”

“And…. what about these?” She asked trying to keep her mind of the scene. A human just to the side of her missing an arm and a leg lay moaning pitifully on the ground. One of the hazmat dressed humans sat next to him gently holding his remaining hand.

The human didn’t appear to be doing anything medically relevant, but gently using their thumb to rub slow circles on the palm of the man’s remaining hand. It seemed strange, but that simple motion seemed to calm the human.

She was greeted by the feeling of horrible sadness as she looked.

“These…. Well. They have graciously volunteered for something special.”

They had almost reached the end of the tent now when, looking down at the floor, something caught her eye. The rundi chairwoman pulled to a stop staring at one of the humans. He was laid in the shadow of the tent at a distance from the lights. A roll of blankets had been propped up under his head and the stump of one of his legs, or what used to be his leg.

It was the right leg, and it had been severed an inch or two above the knee. A rag wrapped around the stump of his leg was red with blood.

His breathing was ragged and labored coming in forced gasps against what must have been excruciating pain, his face screwed up in agony

But it wasn’t that which had caught her attention.

“I…. I know him.” She stammered, stepping forward, “I know this one.”

The agitation in her voice must have been enough to rouse the human, who opened his eyes bleary and out of focus.

Even in this dim lighting she knew those eyes, a shade of bright, emerald green.

The young man turned his head blinking as he tried to focus on her, on her voice. His lips quivered his hands twitched at his sides, “Chairwoman?” He croaked.

The admiral hurried forward kneeling next to the young man as he began to shiver breathing growing more ragged, “Shhh lieutenant, it’s alright.” With surprisingly gentle hands, the man adjusted the boy’s pillow laying one hand on his shoulder, again making that slow rubbing motion that had been demonstrated earlier, “Shh, just relax, don’t try to talk ok.”

She stared on in confusion, and the admiral looked up, “You know him?”

She nodded her head in horrified confusion, “He…. he piloted the jet that saved my planet from an asteroid. He was….. He was one of the first humans we met. I I could be wrong.” She stared onwards knowing she wasn’t wrong.

The man looked on sad, “Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be on the frontline. The atmosphere has too much ash, so all our pilots were thrown back into ground divisions at the rear of the line for administration. When the Drev pushed back they were all that was left, and were forced into combat.”

The admiral looked up at her hand still trying to comfort the young soldier, “We were-”

“Admiral.” The boy’s voice was thick, slurred straining. She didn’t know much about human language, but the way he said the word made the admiral respond, and he leaned forward quickly cutting off and turning his focus.

In those few moments his breathing had grown more ragged.

“Yes.”

“It ... hurts.” His voice came between bursts of air forced from his lungs, a hutch as the muscles in his abdomen contracted and released, “Please…. Make it…. Stop.” Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead and his head arched back. The rest of the body followed suit writhing in slow agony, the remaining foot kicking at the ground in a show of the most visceral agony she had ever seen.

She was sick.

The admiral leaned in using one hand to pin the boy to the ground to stop the writhing, the other hand to the side of his face, “Hey Hey, look at me…. Look at me. Shhh…. There we go.” the young man let go of the contraction on his neck and looked the admiral in the eye face still twisted in pain.

Little droplets of fluid rolled from the eyes and down both sides of his face.

The two humans sat on the floor together, one gently wiping moisture from the other one’s face. His remaining foot grew still and went limp against the ground tilting outward.

Speaking so softly she could barely hear the admiral continued, “You’re gonna be alright kid. The ash is clearing up, and we got a troop transport in. You can go back home, we will get you some painkillers, get some rest, and you can go home…..just a few more minutes.” He dropped one hand back to the kid’s shoulder patting it gently. He turned to look for one of the attendings when, A shaky, clammy hand reached upwards grabbing the admiral by the arm.

He turned to look down.

“I…. I said I would do it.”

His voice was forced, it seemed like every time he was asked to speak the pain only grew worse.

“You don’t have to lieutenant. No one will blame you.” “NO!.... I said…. I would… do it.” His hand quivered and then fell back to his side eyes squeezing shut.

The man kept a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at the chairwoman who had been forced to look away unable to keep eye contact with the scene. He motioned one of the other attendees over to him, and she took his place. With soft hands she slid next to the young man resting his head in her lap posing no more than a comfort to the human as he sunk back into his pained trance.

Murmuring softly and gently stroking a gloved hand through his hair.

Outside in the air though it was ashy and grim, she could finally breathe staggering to the side feeling as if she was about to fall over.

The admiral followed her.

“Why… why did we have to see that.”

The man’s face was stern and unyielding as he held a palm out to face the building, “Every last man and woman inside that tent was willing to DIE for you, for peace, and now….

Now they have volunteered to do it again.”

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proudgodot · 3 years

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Gratitude

I was not initially planning to post about this, given that my unfortunate tendency to over-share has caused me quite a bit of grief in the past, but the truth is that I simply couldn’t resist this time. Typically when I am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to post it is because I am desperately in need of attention or validation, so much so that I can’t actually remember a time when I posted because I was genuinely eager to share something. It was always out of some perverse and misplaced sense of obligation, but it finally feels as if that burden is lifted. While I was writing this post, it was because I felt a genuine…. pride over something I had accomplished, something I genuinely wanted to share with the world. When I chose the name of this blog I didn’t earnestly expect that I would ever feel anything other than shame about myself… it seemed more an ideal than an actual plausible prediction. I’m just so relieved my wish came true.

Anyway, I suppose that is quite enough navel-gazing for the time being… I can only imagine my followers have probably had enough of that to last a long and fulfilling lifetime. I reckon it’s time to move on to the actual story.

As most of you well know, following the dramatic events of the Kristahlia drama, I suddenly found myself with the new responsibility of parenthood. There are certainly aspects of my new lifestyle that have been difficult to adjust to… principle of which is that I am supposed to serve as a sort of role model for these developing and damaged boys. I have never been particularly aspirational, in fact you would be hard-pressed to find someone as underperforming as me. Although I was prone to overcompensating for such things, always desperately trying to prove that I was capable of as much as the bare minimum, looking back I see that I grew too comfortable with those low expectations. When it registered that as a caretaker I would suddenly have to perform a sort of excellence, not for the sake of my fragile ego but for the betterment of these children… I was immediately overcome by a painful inadequacy. However, as our first week together progressed, I came to realize that in certain regards all of us were personally inadequate, and it was for that very reason we had taken on this responsibility together. Although I certainly had my short-comings, that wasn’t something unique to me, and over time we all began to coordinate better and help manage each other’s weaknesses. I was somewhat surprised to learn this was not only true of the adults, but the children as well. The dynamic we developed as a family was rather symbiotic… I found that regardless of age we all had something to offer each other.

Regardless, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep my found family as distant as possible from my most severe personal issues. My past was something I felt I had to resolve independently, no matter how tempting it was to once again depend on the people in my life to solve my problems in my stead. That is why when I made the decision to start looking into Anton’s whereabouts, I never spoke a word about it to my housemates.

Facebook made finding his account incredibly easy, distressingly so in fact. I became acutely aware of the possibility that he might have been recommended my account numerous times over the years and had consciously chosen not to send me a friend request, which although completely understandable still hurt immensely to imagine. Perhaps my hopelessly romantic dream to reconnect with the man was unrequited, and would be rejected with extreme prejudice if vocalized. Eventually, however, I managed to muster up the courage to actually inspect his profile. I discovered that after our quarrel six years ago and his subsequent transferral Anton had moved back to his hometown in Ann Arbor to complete his degree in art and design. Since graduating, he had been working as a freelance artist and animator… he often posted about how proud of his projects he was, and it was reassuring to see his enthusiasm had not diminished in the slightest over the years. One detail about his profile that immediately jumped out at me was his relationship status, which was currently set to single. Despite myself, I immediately felt a small flicker of hope ignite within my quickened heart. Upon further investigation, it appeared he’d been involved in several relationships over the years that had ultimately ended in failure, although the circumstances were unclear. I only hoped he hadn’t made a habit of dating unappreciative losers…

I managed to quell my anxiety briefly and force myself to send him a friend request, which almost immediately filled me with a sense of mounting dread. My anticipation wasn’t even allowed much time to simmer, because mere minutes after I sent the message I was notified that it had been accepted. Instinctively, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat, forgetting that I was incapable of standing up so quickly without losing all feeling in my legs and face planting into the floor. I instantly regretted not taking Addy’s advice and getting that checked by a doctor, because soon enough the entire family was in my room gathered around my body and asking questions with varying degrees of concern and amusement. Although I had wanted to keep my activity a secret, at that moment I was swept away in the drama, and so I began to mindlessly rant about the situation.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but soon enough there were six pairs of hands all frantically scrambling for control of my keyboard. While I laid incapacitated on the floor, my friends had taken it upon themselves to respond to Anton’s messages, each expressing their own thoughts from my account in randomly alternating orders depending on who had managed to prevail in the wrestling. It seemed that Iara maintained the upper hand most of the fight, although it was admittedly difficult to tell over the frenzy at times considering my limited view from the floor.

Eventually, the chaos subsided and everyone turned to look at me with beaming smiles on their faces, some more devious than others. I immediately began to worry that they had sabotaged me somehow, be it in light-hearted jest or in an earnest act of betrayal, and so I asked them nervously what exactly they had done. For a moment it seemed they were trying to contain their excitement, but it didn’t take long for them to erupted into an uproarious celebration, complete with victorious chants that Anton was coming to meet us in person this evening!

I didn’t know how to react. All at once a tempest of conflicting emotions completely overpowered me… and I mean that quite literally. I knocked out cold, and when I finally woke up I discovered that not only had Kyler been trying to shock me awake by applying Takis to my tongue, but that the situation had not miraculously resolved itself. Although everyone else had mostly settled down, my mind was whirling a mile a minute with all of the things I had to do to prepare. I had a whole bucket list I needed to accomplish before I was comfortable standing in front of Anton again… and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t possibly get everything done myself over such a brief time. To my surprise, I didn’t even have a chance to put my reservations aside before they had already agreed to help me based off of my panicked listing of errands alone. Despite my reluctance to involve my new friends in the more turbulent aspects of personal life, it seemed they were actually eager to get involved themselves… I discovered that my problems were not an inconvenience to them, but rather something they were excited to help me work through.

The first obstacle I had to overcome was also the hardest… that being that I had never properly apologized to Gabriella and Lana for my dishonest and frankly abusive treatment. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the words to express my remorse or that I hadn’t processed my guilt, but that Gabriella’s parting words to me specifically informed me not to contact her and I didn’t want to once again disrespect her wishes. However, after some words of encouragement from the family, I managed to write a relatively concise three thousand word email taking responsibility for my past actions and wishing the couple well. As I was writing this post, I actually received a response from the two telling me they appreciated my apology and were glad to see I had grown into a more mature person. Apparently they have just finished settling into their cottage and are now doing better than ever. Lana even expressed an interest in meeting Addy and Iara in particular sometime… I suppose it’s a sapphic thing. I’m just glad that they’re finally living the happy life they deserve without being held back by backwards men.

My email took longer to type then I had expected, and although I certainly can not regret pouring my heart into the message given its importance, it did mean that we had to pick up the pace with the rest of the bucket list. Kyler took this quite literally, speeding at what must have been 100 miles per hour towards the mall despite nearly giving me a heart attack and my insistence that he not set such a bad example for Chris and Klav. We actually ended up getting pulled over, but luckily Iara managed to scare the officer away with her signature scowl. The next few hours were a frantic rush of errands, all focused on helping me actually express myself without the burden of repression. There were moments when it was a struggle, such as when I nearly hyperventilated in Claire’s before they pierced my ears, but ultimately I am immensely satisfied with the results. The most fulfilling moment was finally getting the tips of my hair bleached white to match my new profile picture. Chris actually got his hair dyed alongside me, changing his style from pale blond to black and white to reflect his new kin. It was incredibly rewarding to accomplish this alongside him… I had never been the subject of anything but disappointment from my parents, so it was an incredible feeling to be able to experience that absent parental pride for myself, even if it was with a different perspective.

By the time Anton was forecasted to arrive, my appearance had been upgraded to better reflect my current sense of self… all that was left was for me to get in the right mindset. Luckily, my family was perfectly eager to act as my own personal “hype beasts,” as Kyler put it. They offered excellent emotional support in the half-hour we sat in the den patiently awaiting his arrival, especially Addy, who really took my mind off things by offering to play me in a game of chess. I lost quite handedly, but for once I don’t have it in me to be a spoilsport. When we heard that fateful knock at the door, they all immediately ran into the nearest closest and shut themselves inside to give us some space, but not before giving me a final set of encouraging thumbs up. I hesitated for a moment, questioning once again whether I was really ready to take such a big step in my life. My hand paused, hovering over the door knob uncertainly… until I heard the faint sounds of Steely Dan’s Come on Eileen coming from inside the closet, accompanied by the muffled sound of Klav’s giggle. Reignited by the familiar sounds of my favorite musicians, I swung the door open with a new and uncharacteristic conviction.

And there he was… I was immediately captivated by just how strong his presence was. My memories hadn’t done him justice… it really was like I was in the presence of an angel. I was comforted by certain familiar aspects of his appearance, such as his golden brown eyes that glistened like stars, his long curly hair with its comforting strawberry aroma, and his signature checkered scarf that he had been consistently wearing for almost decade now… but what really excited me were those new features. Normally I am turned off by change, but I was positively breathless as soon as my eyes wandered to the golden butterfly tattoo on his exposed shoulder. I felt as if I was going to faint for a second time in one day.

I couldn’t find the words to express the depths of my emotion no matter how hard I searched my impassioned soul... there were no words strong enough. Instead I just cried, and wordlessly he accepted me into his arms… just like he had on that life-changing night all those years ago. I finally told him everything I had so obstinately refused to say during college… that I was gay, that I was in love with him, and that I was sorry. Although I was openly weeping, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my life.

Eventually, he managed to pacify me… and so I was able to explain to him the entire story of the Kristahlia drama. It was difficult to explain that I had managed to go from discoursing with these teenage kinnies to adopting them, but he was as understanding as he ever was. He was so excited to meet my family that he even brought his cat Apple all the way from Michigan just to introduce her to them. I don’t think I have ever mentioned this publicly, but when Krissy died I had to take her dog Diogenes in myself, and I was surprised to find that the two animals got along perfectly. It really did feel like the entire house was accepting him... it was as if this was meant to be.

Since Anton had gone to all the trouble of making the ten hour drive to Iowa, he suggested that we might as well all hang out together in Cedar Rapids over the weekend. I suppose it’s a date... I must say that I am looking forward to it, as are the others. I know I didn’t deserve to be accepted by him again just because I spent a few hours shedding tears and profusely apologizing, but for once I don’t feel guilty that I have received something I don’t deserve. I just feel... an overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity.

I am certainly still inexperienced at this whole family business and have accepted that I will inevitably make some mistakes in the future, but I don’t think I’ve done too poorly for a first week, if I do say so myself. I am truly grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me through my journey, who have taught me that it is possible to rely on others without being a parasite and to be relied on without shouldering the entire burden.

To my partners, my friends, my children, and my love... from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

#sincerely adam

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fillingthescrapbook · 3 years

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Rewriting The CW's Kung Fu, Part 7: Act III

This is already the penultimate post, but if you're somehow seeing this before any of the previous posts, you can find them here:

Part 1: The Characters

Part 2: The Pilot

Part 3: The Mythology

Part 4: The Story Map

Part 5: Act I

Part 6: Act II

Hopefully, I haven't lost you yet. Especially since we have now reached the end of the first season with our final act.

Episode 10: Opulence

We are splitting focus in the first episode of this arc--with Nicky at the center of the two main plots. One of them is, of course, about the mystical weapons. Nicky, Ryan, Henry, and Evan bring the box from Mei-Xue's cabin back to San Francisco--which they are able to open with the jade key they retrieved from the puzzle box. Inside the box is the scabbard of Liang Dai-Yu's sword. It's jade design is engraved with characters, but Henry says it will take him some time to make sense of them, and Mei-Xue's journal writings.

Nicky starts grilling Henry about the guardians of the weapons, but Henry doesn't really know much since his father never talked much about it. All Henry knows is the things he researched on his own...and the whereabouts of the weapon his father lost: the safe of a business mogul named Raymond Tan. Evan recognizes the name, reminding Nicky of who bailed the museum goons out. He tells her that he was able to talk to one of Raymond Tan's son, Kerwin, who seems like a nice guy. Nicky thinks they can persuade him to separate the weapons--to save the world.

The other main plot has Althea asking Nicky to find out why Chloe, Dennis's younger sister, is always disappearing. Althea blames herself a little bit, as Chloe started acting out after her revelation at the Soong family dinner. Nicky promises to keep an eye out on Chloe.

While Nicky is staking Chloe out at an event with Evan, the latter spots Kerwin mingling with the other guests. He pulls Nicky towards Kerwin so they could talk to him about the weapons, and to ask for his help in separating them. Nicky slips and tells him that a dangerous woman is collecting them, and having them all in Raymond's safe makes it easy for her to steal them. Kerwin apologizes to them, saying he cannot control his father's actions.

Nicky, already dejected, realizes she lost track of Chloe. She and Evan try to look for her, but to no avail. When Henry calls Nicky to give her an update about the scabbard translation, Nicky tells him her problem. Henry swoops in for the save by trawling through Chloe's social media presence, her friends--before seeing a questionable post. He tells Nicky to show an Instagram post to Evan. Evan recognizes it as jewelry that's been reported missing. Evan tells Nicky that Chloe's friends might be involved in a gang of robbers that's been targeting San Francisco's elite. Nicky, Evan, and Henry then work together to save Chloe from her friends.

Meanwhile, Dennis plans to purchase Cloudrush Capital so he could oust Althea's former boss, without telling his soon-to-be wife. But when Althea goes public with her sexual harassment experience, Dennis's business deal suddenly falls apart. When he asks his parents if there's something wrong with their finances, they admit that they were the ones who kiboshed his plan. They want him to break up with Althea because she will tarnish the Soong name. Dennis refuses.

Ryan, living alone for the first time, realizes how his life revolved too much around work and family. He tries to meet new friends via phone apps, only to realizes that most men on the apps are just looking for hook-ups.

Mei-Li and Jin are also starting to feel the emptiness of their house with Ryan and Althea gone, and Nicky always doing something. Because of their empty nest, Mei-Li starts spending more time at the restaurant--needing purpose; while Jin feels himself drifting...ending up at the community center, wanting at first to catch Ryan, before ending up helping people out while he's there.

Going back to Nicky, Evan thinks they should be careful because Chloe's friends might be dangerous. Henry, on the other hand, thinks they're just bored teens with access to the mansions that are being stolen from. When they finally track Chloe down via her friend's Instagram Live, they realizes that the group has set their sights on the Soong's mansion.

Evan separate so he could call in an anonymous tip to the police, while Nicky and Henry try to talk Chloe and her friends out of robbing the Soongs. When Chloe's friends refuse to listen, choosing to act in violence instead, Nicky and Henry are forced to use non-lethal combat moves to incapacitate the teens. One of the teens threaten to have Nicky and Henry arrested, but when the police arrive with a lawyer from the teens' families, Nicky and Henry are assured that they're in the clear--provided they sign an NDA with regards to the actions of the rich teens. Nicky agrees to sign if the teens leave Chloe alone. When the teens are gone, Chloe thanks Nicky, explaining she was afraid to leave her friend group because of their retaliation. Chloe hopes she'll find a friend who are as chill as Nicky and Henry.

The episode ends with Zhi-Lan breaking into Raymond Tan's house. She sneaks into the the businessman's private room and breaks into his safe. Only to find that it is empty. And then we reveal Kerwin, holding three weapons. He tells Zhi-Lan that he's not there to stop her... because he wants to team up. He wants to help her bring his father down.

Episode 11: Beginnings

When we begin this episode, Nicky and Ryan find out that their father has been putting in hours at the community center as a volunteer worker--which is causing friction between him and their mother. While Mei-Li tells Jin that volunteering is noble, she doesn't think he should spend so much time outside the restaurant which needs all the help it can get.

Things take a turn for the worse though when Jin finds out from a conversation between Ryan and Henry that the community center is in danger of being closed down due to lack of traffic. When Jin brings this up to Nicky, who sees how important the center had become to her dad, Nicky tells him that they'll think of a way to save it.

Meanwhile, to manage the stress of the media's interest in her sexual harassment case, Althea decides to help Henry out in figuring out what Mei-Xue discovered via her journals. Althea realizes Mei-Xue's writings aren't just flights of fancy--they're coded. With Althea and Henry working together, they realize that Mei-Xue had become obsessed with the fables of the eight mystical weapons and have been tracking them down.

"But what made her stop and take root in Canada," Althea wonders as she and Henry continue to peruse the photos of the journal pages.

Mei-Li, now taking care of the Happy Dumplings kitchen due to Jin's insistence on helping the community center, digs up old recipes written by her mother--where she also finds a very old photo of her mother hiding something behind her back: the sword of Liang Dai-Yu. Mei-Li recognizes it from the drawings that Nicky had been showing them. She decides to hide the photo, worried that it might push Nicky further into fulfilling her "destiny" to leave her family.

Evan approaches Nicky with news about an auction where one of the weapons Henry told them about is being sold. Nicky realizes they have no means of attending the auction or bidding for the weapon, nor do they have the time since Nicky, Ryan, and Jin are busy rallying help from Asian business owners to help save the community center. Evan tells her that both Zhi-Lan and Raymond Tan will probably be there. Nicky hopes that, at the very least, the weapons continue to be separated.

At the auction, we see Zhi-Lan win the bidding war for the weapon. Outside the nondescript hotel where the auction took place, Zhi-Lan gets attacked by goons from Raymond Tan. But she isn't alone. Kerwin pops up and helps her fight the goons. Kerwin grins at Zhi-Lan, "we make a good team."

Back at the Shen House, Dennis checks up on Althea and reports that her apartment building still has a few media stragglers. "Must be slow news week," Althea mutters. "Hopefully, the attention will be gone by the time our wedding rolls around. If your parents don't hate me yet for coming out with my story, they're gonna hate me when the media crashes the wedding."

Dennis tells Althea, "what if we just elope?" Althea is taken aback. She reminds Dennis that everything has been planned out, they've had to find the most auspicious date for their union, the tea ceremony has been scheduled-- Dennis interrupts her by saying that none of that is important. He just wants to be with Althea. "Won't your parents be angry?" Dennis admits that his parents want the wedding off. They want him to break up with Althea. Which he doesn't want to do. Althea is torn. She doesn't want Dennis going against his family. Dennis says he's not going against them--just their antiquated beliefs. "And they'll learn to live with my decision." Althea agrees to eloping.

Ryan sets up an appointment with the Chinese Community Development office, accompanied by Jin, to talk about what can be done to keep the center open. Meanwhile, Nicky and Evan work together at the city hall to find out how they can drive more traffic to the community center--to make it a viable candidate for city funding. With the two efforts combined, the community center gets saved--and Nicky realizes that this is what she likes doing: helping people, making sure they have a place to go to, guiding them in the ways they can fight for themselves. So she also volunteers her legal counsel at the center, vowing to go back to school as well to finish her law degree.

She and Evan have a moment, where Nicky realizes that Evan is still her best friend from childhood. But she also realizes that their relationship now is not built on romance but rather in respect and trust.

At the end of the episode, Henry and Althea hit a breakthrough in their research with Dennis's help. Dennis helped them see that Mei-Xue had realized that the power the eight weapons would grant its collector is massive--and can become a barrier between Mei-Xue and those she loves. So she chose love.

Mei-Li overhears this as she accompanies Nicky towards Althea, Dennis, and Henry. While Nicky and the others are discussing the implications of Mei-Xue's words, Mei-Li traces the engraved jade on the scabbard of Liang Dai-Yu's sword. Triggering a mechanism. Causing light to filter through one of the scabbard's holes--and projecting a story to the Shen's ceiling: of how Bian-Ge has been passed from guardian to guardian, rotating through the families to make sure it never falls in the wrong hands. Every few years, a guardian is chosen to collect the weapons from the families to take where the golden flowers bloom--to receive Bian-Ge and become its new defender. A glow then rotates through the eight weapons before stopping at the longsword. At Liang Dai-Yu's sword. Nicky realizes, "it looks like a descendant of Liang Dai-Yu is the next guardian to receive Bian-Ge. It has to be one of us." Henry posits, "unless Zhi-Lan and Pei-Ling are also Liang Dai-Yu's descendants."

Episode 12: Honor

Our main thread, as always, will revolve around Nicky. In the last episode, she made a decision that she wants to help people--and while doing so, she also wants to finish her law degree. But, at the same time, she now knows that her family has an obligation to become the next bearer of Bian-Ge. And there are currently only two choices for who it can be: her, or Zhi-Lan.

Mei-Li wants Nicky to focus on who she wants to become, separate from the warrior destiny. Althea and Evan are siding with Mei-Li because they fear for Nicky's safety. Ryan and Henry, on the other hand, believe that Nicky is more than capable to take care of herself. Jin tells Nicky that he only wants her to follow her heart.

Henry sees that Nicky is still undecided so he tells her not to pressure herself to make a decision. "Even if Zhi-Lan gets seven of the weapons soon, we still have one weapon. Zhi-Lan can't achieve Bian-Ge without it."

And then we cut to the visiting area of a prison. The dojo fight-club douche-bag wants to cut a deal with his visitors. He's fine with staying in jail, but he wants them to beat the living daylights out of Nicky Shen before they take the deer-horn knives they're after. And then we cut to who he's talking to: it's Zhi-Lan. "It'll be my pleasure."

While looking at college prospects, Nicky gets attacked by Zhi-Lan. They fight. Nicky matches Zhi-Lan's strength, but Zhi-Lan is desperate. No one wins this skirmish though because Cody (from Episode 3) sees them and calls for campus security. Zhi-Lan gets away--and Nicky calls Henry, after thanking Cody, to tell him that they're in trouble. Zhi-Lan is on the hunt for the weapon they have.

Henry and Evan work together to hide the final weapon from Zhi-Lan, not knowing that Kerwin is staking Evan out. Kerwin calls Zhi-Lan to tell her that the weapon is on the move.

Meanwhile, Althea and Dennis spend the episode getting ready for their elopement. Althea wants Dennis to invite Chloe, so he could have family there--so he does. But his parents find out about the civil wedding they're planning when Chloe slips. Chloe tries to warn Dennis, but Althea decides to stand up to her soon-to-be in-laws. She tells them that she doesn't want Dennis to lose his family, to which they agree. Before adding that he won't lose them if Althea goes away. They even offer her money., which Althea rejects with disgust. If they continue with their civil wedding, they're cutting Dennis off--financially, and from the family. Dennis tells them that he already made his choice--before saying goodbye to his parents.

Joe returns after his month-long contract with a non-profit organization in Seattle...only to tell Ryan that he's accepting a full-time job with a charity there that helps homeless people turn their life around. Ryan tells him he can move to Seattle--but Joe isn't ready for that level of commitment yet. Their relationship already moved too fast for him, but he couldn't turn Ryan away when the latter needed a place to stay. Joe tells Ryan they can still be friends.

Back to Nicky, she meets with Henry to visit Ronda (from Episode 4), who volunteered to hide their weapon. Before they leave Ronda's place, Kerwin catches them. Nicky is surprised to find out he sided with Zhi-Lan. Kerwin tells her, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Henry strikes first. Ronda tells Nicky she can take the weapon away while they deal with Kerwin. Nicky hands her the bag that hides the weapons.

Kerwin is ruthless, using a mixture of street-fighting with different styles of martial arts. But his goal isn't to defeat Henry or Nicky. It's to get the weapon. While Nicky and Henry do their best to stop Kerwin from chasing after Ronda, the young woman quickly makes a decision to throw the bag into the bay. Kerwin tells them that they made a mistake. Nicky, confident, confesses that the bag was just a ruse. Kerwin grins. "We know."

Evan is about to drive away from the District Attorney's office, with a bag identical to the one Henry had been carrying in his passenger seat. But before Evan could leave the parking lot, a motorbike slams into his car. Zhi-Lan reveals herself by taking her helmet off. She thanks Evan for keeping the weapon warm for her. Only to open an empty bag. Zhi-Lan is pissed. She wants to know where the final weapon is, but Evan refuses to tell her. Not wanting to deal with the police, Zhi-Lan quickly makes her exit.

We then see Nicky knock on a door. It opens to reveal Stanley (from Episode 1). He is ready to surrender the weapon to Nicky, fearing that it will bring him bad luck. Nicky thanks him for keeping it safe. Apologizes again for bailing on him with no warning three years ago. Stanley says there's nothing to apologize for, because he's grateful that she gave him the chance to meet and marry someone of his own choosing. Nicky is about to leave with the weapon when Stanley calls after her, saying, "I hope you find the one for you too."

Nicky exits Stanley's apartment building to see Henry waiting for her. And he's being held at gunpoint by Kerwin, who is now with Zhi-Lan. "I'll take that," Zhi-Lan says as she pries the weapon off Nicky's hands. Nicky hits back with a barb, "I don't know how Pei-Ling could be related to someone as selfish as you." Zhi-Lan laughs, "it's funny how you hold Pei-Ling to such high regard when you do not even know who she really was."

Zhi-Lan reveals to Nicky how Pei-Ling's selfishness cost them their father. Cost her her childhood. And for what? To guard a sword that she wouldn't even harness the power of? Nicky remembers Pei-Lings words to her from throughout the season, her regrets, her failures--Nicky realizes that Zhi-Lan is just like Pei-Ling. Carrying a lot of hurt. But they reacted in different ways. While Pei-Ling spent her life trying to atone for a mistake, Zhi-Lan grew up blaming Pei-Ling for everything that had gone wrong in her life. And now, Zhi-Lan is planning to achieve Bian-Ge so she never gets hurt again.

Henry creates a distraction to throw Zhi-Lan off. Nicky swoops in to try and take the weapon away from Zhi-Lan. They fight. Kerwin and Henry get into their own fight. Both fights are evenly matched. But Nicky gets distracted when Kerwin shoots Henry. Kerwin and Zhi-Lan flee, while Nicky runs to Henry to see if he's okay. Henry shows her that the wound isn't serious. (It shouldn't be.) But Nicky is still worried.

At home, Nicky tells her parents that she has to go back to China. Jin and Ryan accept this. Mei-Li is more reluctant, but she knows that the more she tries to pull her daughter in, the more she is pushing Nicky away. So she will support Nicky. Althea tells Nicky that she will give her blessing to Nicky's trip on one condition. Nicky says, "anything."

And then we cut to Althea and Dennis's civil wedding, with the Shen family as witnesses. Nicky is her "maid of honor," giving a speech at Happy Dumplings about how much of a beautiful couple the two make--and how lucky they are to have each other. Althea thanks Nicky for being there, saying she didn’t want Nicky to miss another family milestone. We see a bandaged Henry there, Evan, Althea's former co-worker, a few of her friends and Dennis's, and Chloe.

At Zhi-Lan's apartment, she admires the eight weapons she has been able to collect. Kerwin kisses her from behind, saying that now she can have the world. Zhi-Lan smiles at him, before saying she no longer has any use for him. Kerwin isn't surprised that she would betray him--his only surprise stems from the fact that he fell for Zhi-Lan. Zhi-Lan apologizes that she must now kill him, so he can't tell his father where she is going. And she does. Once Kerwin is down, Zhi-Lan sheds tears. We see that she's just cutting the relationship short before she becomes too attached.

Meanwhile, Nicky checks on Henry outside Happy Dumplings. She has her ticket for China booked already. But she shows him two tickets. Henry asks, "so you already have a return flight? Someone's feeling cocky that they're gonna stop Zhi-Lan quickly." Nicky punches him in the arm, before apologizing for hitting the part with the wound. "The other ticket's yours. If you want to help me stop Zhi-Lan." Henry grins.

And this is where we end this post for now. Because after writing the finale breakdown, I realized... I wrote the actual finale scene by scene. So that deserves a post of its own. Also, this post has already gotten so long.

#Kung Fu CW #tv talk #my words

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

Text

Surface Breach(1/3)[β]

(A/N: Apologies for the longer-than-usual wait on this one. I went back and forth a LOT on which direction I wanted to take this in. and both the weather and irl things have not been cooperating with my muse. X_X. Anyway, the prompt for this was ‘Ahsoka completely breaking down and Maul comforting her’. Sequel to ‘Pressure Points’, so set about 2-3 years after ROTS with circumstances being closer to canon. Warnings for: Non-consensual abduction, emotional manipulation, possessive behaviour, intrusive thoughts, violent outbursts, violation of physical autonomy/boundaries, mentions of possible body modification/invasion of privacy, major character death and some internalized shame regarding sex and sexual practices. Once again, potentially triggering sections have been marked off with ‘****’. Unbeta’d.)

Ahsoka...drifts for an uncertain amount of time. She gets vague impressions of eating and performing other necessities as if through a thick haze. There’s a...person who helps her with these things. Someone with warm hands(which are very appreciated, wherever she is, it’s cold) and a low, pleasant voice that she could curl up and listen to for hours. Mostly she sleeps, deep and untroubled by nightmares or immediate concerns. When she comes to, there’s an overwhelming grogginess and a slight chemical tang on her tongue that she only gets from prolonged bacta treatment. Not full tank immersion, but there are a fair amount of patches stuck to her skin under the loose robe she’s currently wearing. Peeling them off carefully, she finds that most of the bruising and other marks that covered her body-like a tribute to poor decisions- are either gone or greatly reduced. And she doesn’t feel...sore in any tender places. Kind of a welcome change. Which now brings up the question of Where the kriff am I and how long have I been here?

Ahsoka catalogues her surroundings: Simple bed, storage unit, two doors presumably leading to a refresher and an outside corridor. It’s very...bare. Easily left behind or packed up. Whoever is staying here doesn’t plan to do so for long. She finds her lightsabres, clothes, and armour in the top drawer, and her boots placed neatly at the foot of the bed. Only when she is nearly finished getting dressed does she take out a long, even strip of black fabric. For a moment, she thinks that there must have been an error of some kind, until the memories of her most recent slip-up rush in like floodwater through a broken dam. There’s a hot, tight feeling in her gut that balances precariously between desire and shame. Maul has an obsessive personality. She knows this. So why am I encouraging this disaster by-Ahsoka can’t even finish the thought. It makes her sick. And so very angry. She’d made the mistake of seeking him out for something other than business, and he had flat-out abducted her. Any number of people or her objectives could be in danger right now. Her fingers fumble slightly on her wrist-comm as she checks it for tampering. Still functional. She’ll have to disassemble her equipment later, to ensure there aren’t any tracking chips or other unwelcome additions.

He might have embedded something in me while I was under. It rattles her, not remembering, not knowing what Maul could have done, given the opportunity. And he’s close. Even with apprehension curdling in her veins, she can tell that much. Slipping the blindfold into a pocket, she pulls her boots on and pauses for a moment in front of the door. So. Time to find out whether she’s a prisoner or a...’guest’. It opens seamlessly, and she almost gives a sigh of relief. Until she realizes that it leads directly into his office. Ahsoka steps through into a moderate, dimly-lit space. The glow from the screen of the datapad he’s perusing throws Maul’s left side into sharp relief. “Sit.” No need to guess whom he’s addressing, or that he expects to be obeyed. And as there are no other chairs in the room -besides the one he’s currently occupying-, her options are limited. She folds her arms and prepares to stand her ground, only to find herself pulled forward. There is a struggle, though the distance is so short that by the time she breaks out of his Force grip, she’s already right in front of him. Ever the image of arrogance, he sets the ‘pad down, only now raking his gaze over her body. If it’s just to assess the state of her injuries, she might not mind. As much. Except this is Maul, so his motives are guaranteed to be awful at best and downright terrifying at worst. She takes the opportunity to loom over him, gripping the back of his chair with one hand. “You have one chance. Tell me why in the name of a Hutt’s karking diseased brood pouch you thought any of this was a good idea.” The odds are heavily in favour of him lying, or any facts being filtered through his...particular mindset. There is still a possibility that she can glean some scraps of truth from whatever pile of waste product he presents her with, though.

“You were incapacitated, and your stability is, shall we say...currently less than sound.” He answers, lazily resting the curve of his jaw against one set of knuckles as he sprawls. “I acted as I saw fit.” Even when appearing relaxed, Maul is still a coiled serpent. She can never forget that. “Although I am curious...What you might have done had you woken up alone.” “Gone back to work with a few new bruises.” Ahsoka retorts flatly. Which is true, minus some details. It might have at least given her more motivation to stay away from him; knowing with certainty that she is viewed as a plaything for him to use roughly and toss aside on a whim. If only.

“A poor deflection. Nevertheless...” Maul hooks two fingertips under her chin, pulling her oh-so-gradually towards him as he leans in close. The resulting kiss is unexpectedly gentle. She didn’t think he wanted... But he’s-this is-good. Not hurried or violent. She finds herself angling her head to get a bit more contact, tongue peeking out to tentatively flick at his lower lip. He purrs, and she feels...oddly pleased as the physical connection deepens. Their tongues entwine and slide in a tantalizing dance to the point where she hums. Ahsoka is dizzy from either a lack of oxygen or budding arousal when they pull apart, chest heaving slightly as she takes in some much-needed gulps of air. Still, there has to be a catch.

“Explain why I should allow you to leave, Ahsoka Tano.” Sometimes, she really dislikes being right.

“That’s not something you get to decide.” Ahsoka practically spits in retaliation.

“You ran.” Maul hisses. Like she’d had any other choice. It doesn’t matter if he’s gentle, fucking is just one more way for them to hurt one another. “And avoided direct contact for months only to slink back beaten and exhausted to the point of collapse. I have spent the last four days looking after a husk.” Ahsoka nearly hates the look in his eyes right now. Because he is so very good at pretending to truly care that she almost believes it.“Is martyrdom so much more appealing?” The Dark Side seems to slither over her as he purrs, deceptively pleasant even while it attempts to invade.

**** She sinks into his lap as he tugs her down, thighs parting instinctively under his touch. He fills the space between them with far too much ease. She refuses to urge him to get this over with, already. Bad enough that she wants anything from him in the first place, that trading pain, degradation and cruelty with a monster gets her off at all. Except that it does. Ahsoka had hoped at first that it was just the physical aspect; That finding someone who could bite and claw at her in the right way would satisfy this...twisted craving in her off-time. There had been satisfaction, and a few personal revelations, yet it wasn’t enough. “Rex and I buried the men you killed. So many more innocents are dead, dying or suffering under the syndicate.” Any mention of Satine Kryze or Adi Gallia sticks in her throat. She cannot bear to see his pride over those victims while he’s touching her. “You’ll betray everyone and everything for power or revenge.” What good has it done, pushing herself to the absolute brink to fulfill her duties, all but throwing herself into the arms of strangers? She’s still here, on the receiving end of that searing and inescapable gaze. “And you still don’t get why I can’t stand to look at you when you’re-” Finishing the sentence is impossible, both because she cannot bring herself to say the words and suddenly she cannot stand him, his presence, his touch, any of it.

“I should have just killed you then.” Her shoto is ignited and at his throat in the span of a heartbeat. Maul doesn’t retreat or let go, fingertips pressing bruises into her hips even as he half-bares his teeth in a silent snarl. Taking his head off would be right. The Rebellion needs his resources, not him. Criminals are easily manipulated, and Ahsoka will be free of these urges-The lightsabre is actually burning his skin now. He’s pressing into it, practically inviting-His eyes are-Her mouth is dry. Maul has always been a reminder of who she might have been, and what she might become if she ever loses herself. Everything comes crashing down on her at once, and the next thing she is truly aware of is that her weapon is deactivated and re-holstered, eyes leaking copious amounts of tears. **** He guides her hands to his chest, fingers automatically digging into the material of his vest once he lets go. Her face lowers to rest in the crook between neck and shoulder, breathing stuttered and wracked with quiet sobs while she trembles. Maul doesn’t embrace her. Merely...accommodates her current state of being. The pulse against her lips drops from frantic beats to a measured, steady rhythm. Ahsoka doesn’t want to be like him. Doesn’t want to go further down the path to becoming a desperate, selfish, manic person that would sit back and watch everything burn to ashes.

Her chest is full of broken transparisteel and every breath hurts. The tears are a deluge that take far too long to dry out, and when they do she wants nothing so much as to sleep again; curled around a warm body for comfort and safety. Obviously she can’t do that for a number of reasons, but it would still be nice to have the option. “Does this-” A light brush along her flank. “-mean I am forgiven?”

“No.”

“Good. What I am, my actions...They do not affect who you are, Ahsoka Tano.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Is it not? When the Empire falls, you still intend to bring me to whatever ‘justice’-” Maul scoffs. “-Your reborn Republic sees fit to mete out. Our alliance has always been one of convenience. Physical intimacy does not change that.” “What the Republic will do to you is the least of what you deserve.” Ahsoka states with firm conviction, raising her head to make eye contact once more. “And am I really supposed to believe you’re not going to try and twist this to your own benefit?” “No.” He replies simply, though she can see that eerie, devouring light in his eyes beginning to emerge. “You already know what it is I want from you. And it means nothing if you come to me unwilling and utterly broken.” “Hm. We’ll see how long that stance lasts.” Her response is justifiably skeptical. “I have work to do, so if you could point me in the direction of your hangar...”

“Of course.” Maul lists off directions as well as the model of ship she’ll be ‘borrowing’, her own presumably still hidden where she’d left it. “Close your eyes.” “What are you doing?” “Providing incentive. Return to my side when you are ready.” The pad of his thumb traces her lower lip sensually before he tries to close the remaining distance between their lips, only to have her lean away.

“If you want it that badly, you’ll have to catch me, next time.” She can practically feel the air crackle once the hushed provocation leaves her mouth. If she is to keep succumbing to these desires, it will be on her terms.

“It is not wise to tempt me when you are so close to freedom.” The rasp in his voice and the dilation of his pupils indicate that he is seconds away from pushing her down onto the desk and ravishing her senseless. The thrill of it is enough to make her grind down against him, once.

“Try it. We need to have a talk about boundaries anyway.” Ahsoka smiles, a challenge in her eyes as she loops and ties the blindfold around his left wrist before getting to her feet. “I’ll be in contact.” Maul actually lets her go when she walks away, this time. She feels...better. Not healed or whole, but better than she was. In any case, the work of toppling a tyrannical Empire waits for no one, and she has a lot to catch up on. (A/N: Ahsoka’s still planning to see a med-droid ASAP, since they haven’t had that discussion yet and it’s been thoroughly established that Maul is Bad With Boundaries. I’m sure that most of you can guess what the second part will involve. [I’m predictable that way, lol.] In any case, I will be trying to get my WIPs out sooner and my inbox is still open to all interested parties. Cheers, everyone!)

#maulsoka #recurring tag: Ahsoka needs all the hugs and therapy #(Maul needs the latter as well but good luck getting him there)

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diveronaevents · 4 years

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DATE: May 15th

TIME: 8 PM

LOCATION: Throughout Verona

It was Viola’s screams that ushered in the new weeks, drifting along the wispy spring breeze and ringing in the ears of anyone who dared to mull over her death for too long. And it was Viola’s blood that cleansed the ever-soiled streets; pushing at the ankles of the broken, the damned and the indifferent as it rolled through the city in great phantom waves, huddling in-between the cobblestones and drying along fissured windowsills and sturdy pillars alike.

It was said that her ghost now haunted Verona. That it tackled burdened Montagues as they passed through the dreary halls of their library, slinking out from between the looming bookshelves and boring its coal-black eyes into them until they fell to their knees and wept in confession of their sins. Even civilians weren’t left unclaimed by the wrath of Viola’s memory, as they, too, were said to fall prey to it at the barest thought of Capulet retribution and all the lifeblood that was spilled in its name.

Viola’s death took up all the room that she could never fill when alive -- and Verona was choking beneath the weight of it.

One wheezing gasp after another, one desperate crawl after another, Verona drudged ahead like it always did. Yet while some couldn’t help but wonder about its inevitable collapse, others followed at its dragging heel with steady gazes and marching steps -- though it remained to be seen whether they did so because they truly wanted to, or because they had no other choice.

Among that ambitious clan of individuals was none other than Damiano Montague, who had continued to seek the solitude of his office and wrangle his plans for the future, even with all the losses that were now looming over him, rising higher and piling thicker with each and every victory that he stole.

MAY 12TH

THE CAPITAL LIBRARY, 3 PM

He sat at his desk, knotted fingers pressed against his mouth, features locked in an expression of stoic calculation. Before him was his right hand, his general, and most notably, his son. He still wasn’t sure of the title he ought to brand him with. Adversary? Kryptonite? Family?

Only one thing was certain; he had most definitely outgrown the title of heir.

It was glaringly apparent to Damiano as he stole a glance at his son, who occupied the seat directly before him, arm poised along the edge of the desk as his index tapped away in a steady, absently patient rhythm. His gaze was trained on the empty chair across from him, distant and glazed. He seemed every bit the thoughtful leader that he had always envisioned him to be.

The only difference was that he was sitting in the wrong seat.

Yet has he truly earned the throne for himself? Was he truly ready?

Damiano frowned, looking away and slowly lowering his intertwined hands until they settled before him.

ROMEO’s eyes instantly cleared, trailing up to settle on him attentively.

He shuffled around in his seat with a minute motion, yet for all his composure, the mild gesture was enough to betray his nervousness, and Damiano didn’t conceal his recognition of it; meeting ROMEO’s gaze for one rigid moment before his attention drifted away to the other occupants of the room.

GERTRUDE stood in the middle of the room, a short space beyond ROMEO, posture straight and hands clasped in front of her. Damiano eyed the bandaged stump of her ring finger for a long, heavy moment. She didn’t move, didn’t twitch or waver. She remained as steady as ever under his scrutiny, and although he gave no indication of it, it was reassuring for him to witness. Perhaps she did, indeed, retain some of the honor that her tainted act had forever defiled in his eyes. Only time and spilled blood would tell.

Beyond their cluster, near the small office window, was ANTONY, who leaned against the wall and peered down into the streets through pallid coils of cigarette smoke. He glanced at Damiano, but seemed in no hurry to come to attention; taking a moment to inhale one final gulp before discarding the cigarette with a lazy flick of his finger and one final glance at the city below -- as arrogant and aloof as ever. In just a moment, he would know his place. Damiano aimed to make the message glaringly clear with the sharp look he threw ANTONY’s way, but the man merely raised a placating palm while the other gripped the window and rolled it down.

It closed with a decisive, resounding clang.

Damiano took a deep breath that utterly failed to douse his flaring temper, pressing his palms flat against his desk for a moment before he abruptly began to drum his fingers against the tabletop. It seemed to coax ROMEO’s anxiety further to the surface; as he began to gnaw on his lip while tracing the motions of Damiano’s hands. Good.

If only the other two could be half as responsive to him, Damiano couldn’t help but irritably think.

“I have a question for you all: what does loyalty mean to you?”

His fingers stilled. His gaze skirted across all three of them with steady appraisal.

He received no answer.

“It’s a serious question,” He beseeched. “I genuinely want to know what loyalty means to each one of you.”

He took a breath, licked his lips, and impulsively decided that in truth, he didn’t want to fucking know.

“See, for me, loyalty is best translated through honesty. And what honesty means is being forthcoming. Direct. Willing to share what you otherwise would not for the sake of the common goal that I should think we’re all working towards.”

ROMEO’s eyes briefly fluttered closed, face turned away with what Damiano was certain was no small amount of exasperation. He would call it foresight if he didn’t know that it actually came down to the simple fact that his son was simply too used to being reprimanded. Yet did he ever take the time to wonder why the blame never ceased before he resorted to his usual self-victimization? Did he ever learn anything from it? No. Even with all the progress he had made, he still managed to land himself in the line of fire. So here they were, and he only had himself to blame.

“It doesn’t mean letting secrets fester for months on end, and in turn leaving everyone around you reeling from the consequences --“ He emphasized, eyes on GERTRUDE. “before finally mustering the courage to come forward, and right when it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

ROMEO didn’t turn to look at GERTRUDE, perhaps to save her the embarrassment. Yet ANTONY made no move to conceal the inquisitive glance he threw her way, though he retracted his attention quickly enough.

The knuckles of her clasped hands blanched, but that was the only indication that she had any particular reaction to his words.

It was enough.

“It doesn’t mean landing yourself in covert encounters with the enemy and sharing nothing on the matter, even though it leaves you incapacitated for months on end and thus an utter liability to the organization,” He looked upon ANTONY, tipping his chin in the direction of his still-healing hands.”While also bearing the risk of dragging the rest of the Montagues into whatever cycle of vendetta you had locked yourself into.”

It was GERTRUDE’s turn to cast a curious glance at ANTONY, who remained slouched against the window. Yet his nonchalant posture was decisively betrayed by the unmistakable frost that had now chilled his expression.

“And finally, it doesn’t mean orchestrating a wholesale operation of your own volition, not to mention after gaining intel that you had absolutely no right to keep to yourself, when it is not your place to do so.” He gritted, voice raised with his spiking frustration as he bore his gaze down on ROMEO, still scathed by the series of events that was ultimately what had paved the way for Viola’s untimely death.

He leaned forward across his desk, voice dropping into a harsh murmur. “Arrogance will get you far, boy, but never far enough while your name remains tied to mine.”

ROMEO’s jaw clenched as he blinked incessantly, undoubtedly in an attempt to keep himself from flinching.

Damiano watched his composure crumble, and then slowly, slowly, leaned back in his chair, once again turning to look between all three of them.

“So… do we see a pattern here? Or has honesty eluded you for so long now that you can’t even tell that you’re lacking in it?”

The words settled with a whiff of heat across all those who were present, and the silence in their wake was blistering.

Damiano began to drum his fingers once again, watching them as he awaited a response.

Again, he received nothing.

Curious. They were always so eager to hiss and holler and let their voices be heard, yet now they were mute all of a sudden. All because he faced them with their faults, even though they have all collectively done nothing but face him with his own.

He scoffed, lips tilting in a derisive smile. “It’s alright. What’s done is done, and each one of you has already paid their own price for their secrecy.” He let the declaration settle for a moment, then he spread his palms. “Now we can turn over a new page. And I’m willing to set the example that we all ought to follow, moving forward.”

Reaching into his drawer, he took out several files that he had compiled on his own, without the knowledge of any of the three. He put the files before him, but gave no indication that anyone was allowed to glimpse the contents just yet. “I think we’re all aware that the Capulets have gone too far at this point. Although Viola’s death is the straw that broke the camel’s back, I believe that this was a long time coming. War is what the Capulets have demanded, and war is what they shall receive.”

He nodded towards the files. “I’ve been thinking it over since the anniversary; how we can retaliate, what moves we can afford to make with the resources that we have. And over the past few days, I outlined the plan that I have in mind.” He opened the largest file, which showcased images of various Capulet territories alongside sheets of outlined information regarding them. “A series of coordinated attacks on significant Capulet territories which, if executed efficiently, will end with us taking over their precious Cathedral.”

He indicated a photo of the building. ROMEO frowned at it, licking his lips in hesitation before arguing, “But the Cathedral is practically falling apart after the explosion. What use would it have?”

With a click of his tongue, Damiano shook his head. “In this case, it’s not about the use, boy, it’s about the message. Those righteous fools take great pride in having a house of God in their grasp. They’ll be left stranded without it. We keep it, and it’ll be a blow that they will take ages to recover from.” He sought ROMEO’s gaze, certain that his following words would convince him. “If Cosimo thinks that what he did with Viola was a display, he has a grand fucking lesson to learn.”

ROMEO avoided Damiano’s eyes, silent as he read over the file.

“Like I said, I aim to set an example with this, so you’re all free to look over the strategies I’ve outlined. Offer suggestions, make adjustments, pick your teams -- get involved, and work to make this a success.”

With a firm motion of his hand, he closed the file. “It happens in three days.”

The door would have slammed behind ROMEO as he stormed out, had it not been for the swift response of GERTRUDE’s hand as she walked out behind him. She let the door hover open behind her for ANTONY to pass through as she trailed after a seething ROMEO, who came to a stop beside her with his fists clenched at his sides and his head shaking in fervent rejection.

“I have to do something about this.” He insisted. “Going after the Capulet HQ is no walk in the park. He’s going to be met with heavy resistance, and many of our people will die for nothing. Even if he does seize the Cathedral, it’s useless. And who knows how the Capulets might retaliate, or if we’ll even have the power to push them back by the time it’s over. They’ve already taken territory back from us once before.”

GERTRUDE was silent, though she seemed to be in agreement with ROMEO. ANTONY merely lingered in the background, not partaking in the discussion but carefully following it.

“I know I have no way of stopping him, but if I can somehow make these attacks count, then that’s what I have to do.”

He searched GERTRUDE’s eyes, then turned to briefly gauge ANTONY’s reaction.

“It can’t all be for nothing.”

Then he turned around, and quickly began marching towards his own office.

MAY 15TH

MEASURE BY MEASURE, 8 PM

The trenches of Measure by Measure sprawled ahead of the invading Montague battalion; an assembly of twelve soldiers with CELIA and ROSALIND at the forefront. Making their entry had been an easy feat, but it was known that the bulk of the establishment’s security lay in the catacombs; in the implicit knowledge that upon descent, one would have no choice but to dig their way out or be buried beneath another’s heel. As such, the nervous energy crackling along the humid air was palpable to all, though none seemed to waver before it. They knew their orders, they knew the mission that lay ahead -- and most importantly, they knew the risks.

Beneath the nervous air was a different sort of tension, however; one that spiked and pulled taut whenever ROSALIND’s gaze collided with CELIA’s, especially when she seemed to take note of the way her cousin was expressly marching closer to the comrades on her other side, enforcing distance that had divided both Aguilars for longer than either of them was willing to admit. It made for a stifling progression through enemy territory, one that had little to do with the constrained air or the cavernous space. Even the soldiers posed at the flanks seemed to take note of it; stealing perplexed glances at the renowned Montague duo as they walked at the head of their pack.

Yet although the ties that bound sometimes frayed, they could never truly be broken, and such was starkly proven by CELIA’s swift response as a wicked bullet strode directly towards her cousin, who was simmering in enough disdain that it seemed to completely drown out her focus. A push of CELIA’s palm into ROSALIND’s shoulder sent her sprawling out of the bullet’s path, and as she shouted at her cousin to take cover, she realized the risk that her selfless actions bore. Only it was too late, as she quickly found herself lying on her back with a gun pressed harshly into her throat. Atop her was CORDELIA, who hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of CELIA’s preoccupation with her cousin.

While the two grappled with one another, ROSALIND was instantly on her feet and working to come to her cousin’s aid, but HIPPOLYTA was quick to throw herself into her path. She was a renowned Capulet captain, known for her calculative disposition and efficient approach to combat. She encompassed everything that went against the aggressive, direct approach of ROSALIND’s training, and it caused the fight to sway in the Capulet’s favor. Though as ROSALIND took note of CELIA’s struggles against CORDELIA, she instantly abandoned defense in favor of offense, taking HIPPOLYTA off guard as she began to fuel more patience and tact into her assaults.

In the end, none of them could remain caught in a stalemate forever.

With a struggling HIPPOLYTA caught in her wavering chokehold, ROSALIND looked around her to find that most of their soldiers were either dead or caught in the Capulets’ grasp, and it took the mindless moment when she called out to the others to translate the bleak conclusion of their defeat for HIPPOLYTA to wrap an ankle around hers and tug her foot from beneath her, knocking her down and swiftly turning the tides of their fight.

Her warning was unnecessary, however, as it seemed that several of her comrades had come to the same conclusion. The first of which naturally being CELIA, whose attacks on CORDELIA had switched from offensive and lethal, to distant and defensive as she turned her focus to concocting a much-needed escape plan.

For a moment, all seemed to be lost -- until ROSALIND felt the blessed weight of a forgotten smoke grenade pressing painfully into the small of her back.

Digging her palm beneath her with great difficulty, she took it out and let it roll away into the middle of the raging battlefield.

Then she held her breath.

One second passed… then two… then the third…

The room was engulfed in smoke, and ROSALIND’s fist rose up to collide with HIPPOLYTA’s nose, dislodging her and giving her the leeway to run towards the exit after passing by her cousin and signaling to her with a quick pat on the shoulder. CELIA understood, rallying what was left of their comrades and leaning against them alongside ROSALIND as they made their ragged escape through the catacombs.

They came up for air with no concern for anything but the sheer relief that they had survived.

TWELFTH NIGHT MUSEUM, 8:30 PM

It was a calm evening in the Twelfth Night Museum, disturbed by nothing more than the whisper of footsteps as they stuttered before paintings and the hum of quiet conversations as visitors indulged in each other’s opinions and remarks. The echo of music drifted down from the upper floor, breezy and soothing, the paintings shimmered in the gentle light, and the sculptures looked upon it all with envying melancholy.

All while the city outside simply lay in wait.

Then all the doors slammed shut. Alarms blared and warning lights flashed.

And a dozen Montagues slinked out of the shadows.

At the forefront were MALCOLM and HAMLET who worked in unison to enforce their operation of taking over the museum, MALCOLM issuing orders to their fellow soldiers, and HAMLET working on closing the area off from any Capulet reinforcements. Soon enough, the museum was locked up like a cell without a key, restricted only to the internal alarms that left nothing for wandering eyes to see beyond its walls.

HAMLET quickly found himself cornered by CORIOLANUS, who spread his palms and looked around in indication of the Montague soldiers that were faltering and falling all around them in the wake of Capulet retaliation, taunting HAMLET with the pitiful sight. It was an act that failed at first, but soon enough served its purpose, throwing them into an entanglement that was desperate and invigorated on HAMLET’s part, while riveting and purely amusing in his enemy’s eyes.

At the far corner of the room, MALCOLM was aiding a fellow Montague soldier before suddenly taking an abrupt, vengeance-fueled knife to his side. Wielding it was none other than LADY MACBETH, who still burned with spite for what he had done to her husband. For a long time, they fell into physical combat, exchanging forceful blows and unflinching strikes, until MALCOLM gained enough breadth to wield his gun, and then LADY MACBETH’s fate was sealed.

Though not quite, for she was quick to grab a civilian and use them as a shield to deter his bullets. It was HERMIONE, who fell into a scream of agony, shoulder torn by the burning metal of a bullet, before she could even grasp what was happening. Once she had served her purpose, she was quickly discarded by LADY MACBETH who went on to taunt MALCOLM with his act of injuring an innocent woman.

Though HERMIONE was discarded, she was not abandoned. Her screams had drawn the attention of a watchful TITANIA, and displeased as they were with LADY MACBETH’s cowardly actions, they were quick to run to HERMIONE’s bloodsoaked side, helping her up and guiding her to a remote corner where they tended to her wound as best as they could.

Across the battlefield, BIANCA was ordered to go upstairs to the Tempest and ensure that no Montagues had infiltrated it. As she ran, she collided with FLORIZEL, who had been making his exit out of the lounge. The two engaged one another in a conversation riddled with underlying motives and looming blades, gauging each other and their stances on the chaos that had erupted around them. Adept at such games as she was, BIANCA had managed to lure him close enough -- and then she ran her blade through his gut. Just because she could. She had orders to take down Montagues, after all, and he had the same rabid air about him. Could anyone truly blame her for acting on orders and instinct alike? And so she walked away along a pool of his blood, unbothered by the chilling footprints she stamped in her wake.

It was just as HAMLET began to turn the tide of his battle with CORIOLANUS that his earpiece crackled with disturbing news. The Measure by Measure takeover had been a failure; they were now meant to retreat and make their way to the next and most essential target in order to ensure the success of the operation. He had no room to argue or discuss, and so he quickly called out to his comrades. MALCOLM answered the call, abandoning his unfinished fight with LADY MACBETH and making his way towards as many soldiers as he could reach, supporting them however he can and ushering them forward. Once there were none left behind except for the fallen, HAMLET gave the order to have their override on the alarm system dismantled, then began to fight his way through the museum alongside what remained of his people.

They made their way towards the Cathedral, hungering for the victory they had just been denied.

THE CATHEDRAL, 9 PM

The broken visage of the Cathedral made for quite a mournful sight. A vision that tugged one’s brows into a grimace of sorrow and lured their gaze into helpless appraisal of beauty torn asunder -- an ill fate that the ancient city of Verona had been condemned to from the moment it birthed the divine Capulet and Montague entities.

Its lower levels lay pliant, spread open before gloating eyes as their shattered foundations wearily leaned into the support of construction beams and wooden pillars. An array of spears sprouting from the Capulets’ crucified heart, drawing grit in place of blood and piercing stone in place of flesh.

Further beyond, among the crumbling ruins of the dilapidated ribcage, lay a cluster of prone bodies. Casualties amidst crossfire. Innocents.

Construction workers and Capulets tasked with security, fallen in the name of the Montague march as though they had never stood a chance.

Indeed, they hadn’t.

The workers were merely unconscious, but the soldiers had been executed, in accordance with the ruthless code with which GONERIL had led a handful of Montague soldiers, shortly before joining ANTONY and MERCUTIO alongside the rest of the battalion once their way into the Cathedral was finally cleared.

Above them, Capulets went about their business as usual, hearts settled and guard lowered. All while VOLUMNIA seethed in her office.

As soon as they were informed of the series of Montague attacks that had been launched on their territories, she had immediately sprung into action, distributing teams and assigning tasks while simultaneously preparing to dive into the battle herself -- only to find herself stopped by Cosimo Capulet. He aimed to go and survey the battle grounds, and it was his wish that she remain in their headquarters and take leadership in his absence. VOLUMNIA had been against it, claiming that it would be a more efficient action if she were to guide their forces on the field while Cosimo led and supervised their efforts. In truth, she hadn’t trusted what Cosimo might do outside the sharp scope of her vision, the bitter memory of the night of the anniversary still curdling in her mind. Yet her attempts at persuasion had been in vain, as Cosimo had firmly decided against listening before finally taking his hurried leave.

She had been mulling over it ever since, mind running itself ragged with contemplation as she considered all the new dimensions that her recent disagreements with the Don opened for the future of the Capulets.

Then her thoughts came to a dreadful halt.

She noted how quiet it had gotten outside.

But then sound began to arrive in small bursts; minute shouts and distant calls that she struggled to translate as she made her way to the door.

It opened up to reveal the dastardly curve of MERCUTIO’s smile.

That was all VOLUMNIA could see before her sight was whisked away into a dizzying blur of sights and colors. MERCUTIO’s gun-wielding hand only lowered from her bleeding temple for a second before the other followed in its tracks, landing a bruising punch to the other side of VOLUMNIA’s face and earning her enemy further leeway into her office. VOLUMNIA stumbled to her desk, throwing herself on the other side of it to put distance between them and steal a moment to regain her footing. But MERCUTIO offered her no breathing room, launching themself across the desk and sending her crashing into her toppling seat of leadership. Yet although MERCUTIO had gained the upper hand, VOLUMNIA was intent on stripping them of it, having learned quite a bit about their fighting style from their recent encounter with one another.

A short distance away, ANTONY and GONERIL were making their way to the other offices of Capulet leadership, yet their progress was soon interrupted by DIANA, who had clearly been on her way to make an urgent exit. ANTONY turned the corner and was instantly spotted by her, but luckily, GONERIL had been lagging behind and so she was able to lean back into the shadowed wall and mask her presence. ANTONY aided her, drawing DIANA’s attention and giving no indication that he was accompanied. It gave GONERIL room to slink away and look for another route towards their intended destination, while ANTONY continued to indulge in rigged conversation with the enemy.

He approached DIANA slowly, arms raised placatingly in a deceptive display of his bandaged hands, taking advantage of what he knew of the enemy and projecting the twisted image of a man too aware of his own weakness, a man unwilling to do what was easy and spill blood when he could instead coax the enemy towards surrender. DIANA indulged him, willing to bite into the bait and guarding against it all at the same time. She slowly closed the distance between them, with a blade in hand, tucked into her side and concealed within the gentle, overflowing ruffles of her dress.

Meanwhile, GONERIL was making her way away from the vacant offices of the boss and heiress alike with her jaw clenched in frustration. She shoved the door to the consigliere’s office open with her foot, almost convinced that it, too, shall be empty. For a moment, that truly seemed to be the case, and GONERIL stood in the doorway and sloughed out a sharp sigh -- right before ROSALINE launched out from behind the door and wrapped a makeshift garrote around her throat. GONERIL managed to raise her hands just in time, hissing as they bled across her neck. They tousled around, crashing into cabinets and colliding with walls, and so ROSALINE, still weakened by her torture at the Montagues’ hands, was quick to lose her strength and loosen her hold. GONERIL threw her off with a harsh kick, whirling around and faltering upon recognizing the woman from her past.

Further across the expanse of the headquarters, there were no clear omens as to whom the battle was swinging in favor of. Capulets hissed, Montagues roared, and the Cathedral was then awash with gold simmering and boiling amidst silver.

Then the Montague reinforcements arrived from the abandoned battle at the Twelfth Night Museum, filtering into the Cathedral like a winding contagion and quickly overwhelming the struggling ranks of Capulets.

Soldiers drifted around, coming first across VOLUMNIA at the mercy of MERCUTIO’s blade.

Then ANTONY as he stood with a dangerously scant space between him and DIANA, leaning close as if they were sharing a secret, though none could see the way ANTONY was eyeing her blade or the way DIANA clenched her fingers around the impulse of brandishing it. The soldiers approached, and ANTONY glanced at them before looking back at DIANA and slowly reaching for her blade. He twirled it in a scar-ridden hand as he led them away, DIANA caught between them in enforced surrender.

Finally, the soldiers came upon a victorious GONERIL, though there was no satisfaction to be gauged from her expression, especially as she was forced to further subdue ROSALINE, who swiped and screamed at the encroaching Montagues like a cornered beast. Even as she lost consciousness due to GONERIL’s decisive strike, she never stopped fighting back.

Upon entry, Damiano Montague took in the chaos with a mild smile. It was his first genuine one in months.

Broken as it was, the heart of the Capulets was now his. A token of victory unlike any other.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his son would bring back in turn.

PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE CAFE, 9:10 PM

It was quite a deceiving trophy that he aimed to bring back, ROMEO couldn’t help but think, eyes taking in the humble, welcoming visage of the cafe as his team slowly approached it. While it would seem like an odd, almost pitiful choice for a takeover target, especially when compared to the jewel that his father was seeking, he saw its value far beyond its image. Although the establishment was simple, and horribly understated in comparison to the other powerful territories that the Capulets controlled, ROMEO understood the intent behind it well enough that he could see the power it held where his father could not. A special brand of power that could only be found in kindness, which was found exclusively in Phoenix and the Turtle perhaps more than any other Capulet territory.

Those who slept on empty stomachs grew to forget the taste of hunger upon finding this place, and it was something that had endeared the Veronesi to the Capulets in ways that the Montagues have failed to contend with for years on end.

His father had spoken on sending a message, and opted to send it through theft of the Capulets’ heart.

But ROMEO was about to steal something far more precious, far more meaningful: the long-cultivated love of the people.

And he had no intention of being kind about it. They certainly hadn’t bothered to afford Viola that kind of respect.

It was for that reason that his expression remained stoic as stone as he heard the panicked shouts and terrified cries of innocent patrons as they coughed and choked and fell to their knees in the wake of the tear gas bombs that his team had thrown in through the windows. By the time it cleared and it was safe for the small Montague team to venture inside, the territory was all but theirs for the taking.

However, Damiano’s attacks had bore the disadvantage of announcing their plan to the entirety of the city, and because of that, Cosimo had been quick to send out teams to every single territory to guard against any remaining Montague attacks. It was for that reason that the Montagues’ victory was short-lived, as a Capulet squad was quick to crash into the cafe and bring their progress to a halt.

The first among them was KATHERINE, who seemed intent on going after GERTRUDE from the moment she spotted her. GERTRUDE deterred her attacks, trying and failing ceaselessly to convince her to swallow her pride and stand down. Yet her words fell on deaf ears, as KATHERINE continued on with her relentless attacks. As the fight progressed and GERTRUDE slowly ceased to hold back, however, KATHERINE opted for a different approach, taking advantage of the pallid remnants of smoke that still clung to the air to elude the enemy and dance in circles around her until she found her opening. Yet there was a great prince to be paid in the wake of her conniving strategy.

While KATHERINE crouched and slinked around under the veil of smoke, GERTRUDE did her best to trace her movements with her gun, and when she was certain that she had spotted her, she didn’t hesitate. The bullet whizzed through the murky air, but in place of the harsh, sharp groan that GERTRUDE expected, came a gentle, resounding scream -- the bloodcurdling sound of someone who has yet to learn of true pain.

It was HERO, who had gone on to expect that the only hardship she would endure on this night was the possibility of getting lost on her way home, and yet here she was, in tears and tremors as she scrambled to halt the ceaseless blood-flow. It was just her luck that the righteous, kind-hearted TROILUS, who happened to have also elected to dine here, lingered close enough to come to her aid. He scrambled away from the upturned table that he had been hiding behind and made his way towards HERO once GERTRUDE and KATHERINE were out of sight, calming her down and helping her with the injury before moving on to guide her towards escape, lips coiled in disdain for the mobs that only ran deeper with each passing day.

Nearby, TYBALT was launching himself at SEBASTIAN, who had taken note of the situation involving HERO and lost his focus in the wake of oncoming dread as he realized just how many innocents were getting caught in the crossfire of this battle -- the one they had been the ones to initiate. The space was too constrained for use of arms, and so the two took to physically fighting against one another, SEBASTIAN solemn and cautious, while TYBALT snarled and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Though how far he pushed just before SEBASTIAN broke, one could only wonder.

It was OPHELIA and MIRANDA who then came into conflict, hissing and spitting at one another while war raged all around them. OPHELIA and CLEOPATRA had stuck to each other’s side, but they had gotten separated amidst the chaos, and OPHELIA feared for her dear friend and for herself in equal parts, knowing they were much stronger when banded together than when apart. It fueled her attacks against MIRANDA, the desperation to find her friend and make sure she was safe -- a goal that she and her enemy both shared, as MIRANDA, too, was pushed by her boundless passion to stand up for her friends and famiglia alike. But the two never lowered their weapons, and so they never found out just how much they actually had in common.

It was every bit the clash of beast against prey as BEATRICE and REGAN threw themselves against one another, though the modest, brimming space of the cafe did not allow for much freedom of movement. At one point, BEATRICE keenly used it to her advantage, running out into the streets in the hope that her speed would allow her to get the enemy off her trail. Yet REGAN was not the type of predator who was deterred by a chase, and so they followed after BEATRICE with eager hunger, keeping up with her with detached ease.

They caught her quickly, throwing her to the ground and locking her in with their body before antagonizing her with the gleaming weapon they held aloft. The sound of them in the otherwise quiet street drew ARIEL’s attention as they passed by, and at first, they hesitated to act upon taking note of the chaos that had overtaken the cafe. Yet upon recognizing BEATRICE, they decided to help her, distracting REGAN long enough for BEATRICE to escape their grasp. She didn’t run, however. Instead, she stayed and worked together with ARIEL to escape REGAN’s prowl.

Later on, REGAN settled on the concrete, catching their breath and glaring daggers at the retreating silhouettes of their quarry. Yet as they made their way to stand and continue their chase, IMOGEN was abruptly at their side. They claimed to be offering REGAN their help, even though they barely glanced at their wounds, feigning ignorance towards their identity and allegiance alike in the hope of gaining information on the battle that was erupting only a few feet away. IMOGEN had had far too many missed chances as of late, and it was a mistake that they had no intention of repeating.

Back inside the cafe, in a remote corner that was still anything but peaceful, CLEOPATRA faced off against EDGAR, who took a stance of grim determination, reminded of an achingly similar stalemate that he had been locked into with another Montague not too long ago. Though unlike them, CLEOPATRA was calm and unrelenting instead of desperate and eager for self-sacrifice. She clearly had no qualms about resorting to necessary violence, and still she didn’t reach for her weapon. Instead, she negotiated, attempting to convince EDGAR of the inevitable Montague victory and draw him towards peaceful surrender. It was only because of the surprising semblance of honor that she afforded him that EDGAR stilled and listened.

They never had a chance to see if CLEOPATRA could truly convince him.

Soon enough, ROMEO sealed the fate of the battle.

He gave swift, efficient orders, distributing soldiers evenly and tasking them with goals that worked to ensure that the cafe was locked tightly within their grasp. Capulets were subdued and held at gun-point, or defeated and cast outside as fodder for the streets. The Montague HQ was contacted and informed of their team’s success. More soldiers were dispatched to ensure the security of the location and fend off any Capulet retaliation.

ROMEO took in the blessed vision of order, exacted by his hand and his hand alone, and it felt like he was able to draw breath for the first time since day arose.

The taste of victory was not quite as sweet as he imagined, and still he couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

He wondered how it tasted to his father, if his addiction to it was the reason why they had wound up where they were.

Desperately, he hoped that it would grow bitter for him as time passed.

THE OUTSKIRTS OF VERONA, 11 PM

From a castle carved from shadow, LAMPRIUS watched as one battle after another overtook his beloved city. A grating chain of war that had been choking him in its coils for as long as he could remember.

It was tradition as ancient as the Witches who still lived eternal in his memory.

Its life would come to be cut short. Just as theirs had been.

The promise burned within him, and with its ashes scorching the tips of his fingers, he went on to write the following words.

Remember this for when the time comes.

What is dead can never die. Not while there is life and legacy to be taken in its name.

Then he sent them scurrying along the wind, towards none other than Verona’s damned kings.

OVERVIEW: And so the war for the territories begins! Viola’s death has stirred the Montagues into irreversible action, and the stakes are only going to climb higher from here. As you’ve just witnessed, the Montagues are now officially in possession of THE CATHEDRAL and PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE. But fret not, Capulets! The next plot drop will explore their reaction to the blow they’ve been dealt and the action they’ll take in response, which is the reason for JULIET’s absence from this plot drop. Due to injuries too debilitating for them to take part in the action, PERDITA and ORSINO are also absent. A lot of exciting things are coming, so keep an eye out for them alongside changes in our locations page to reflect the recent events! Please date your threads from APRIL 27TH to MAY 30TH, with MAY 15TH as the day where the events of the plot drop occur. Let us know if you have any questions, and have fun!!

#diveronaevent

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always5hineee · 4 years

Text

Depreciation- Chapter 2: Visiting Hours

Chapter warnings: mild language

Word count: 1361

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After being released from her initial questioning, Y/N immediately took to Twitter. While she no longer had her original phone, (she had told the officers she lost it- in reality, WayV had confiscated it from her), they offered her a temporary replacement. She knew she would have to get a new one soon, as the likelihood of this one being monitored was almost a guarantee- it was the only way they would have offered to give her a new phone. Still, for now, she had no choice. What she was searching for wasn't suspicious, anyway.

The first thing she did was type "WayV" into the search bars. The results that came up were expected, but unsettling.

WayV concert

WayV Lucas

WayV postponed

WayV is over

What could this mean? Had SM released a statement? What did the general public know? She found it almost impossible to fathom that they had managed to keep the allegations completely under wraps, so what was the excuse this time? Heart twisting in tension, she clicked on the first tag, clicking through until she came to an official article.

WayV Tour Postponed Due to Unforeseen Complications

She began to read the content of the body, skimming to the paragraphs that caught her interest. Most of it was corporate bullshit, but she managed to get the gist based on various lines.

"Unfortunately, Wong Yukhei of WayV, commonly known as Lucas, had suffered a mild injury. While we believe he will be in good health shortly, WayV will be postponing their tour until further notice. We thank you for your concern and your patience in this matter, and we will keep all of the WayZenNi updated as much as we are able."

So they weren't planning on releasing the extent of Lucas's injuries? The last she had seen him, he was covered in those gashes, but he was still very stably alive. Hendery had said he killed the man, along with Xiaojun, but... that couldn't have been the case. He wouldn't have had time to incapacitate Xiaojun and completely kill Lucas in the few seconds she had been in the basement. He had just been saying it to cause her pain in her final moments.

Still, the article was right about one thing- Lucas wouldn't be performing any time soon. It was clear that they intended to keep all of the allegations under wraps. In the event that WayV was proven innocent, they needed to be able to put them back on stage with no controversy. If any of this got out, it was over. Still, it was fairly easy to demand an unbiased jury, so the people who did act as jurors wouldn't be involved afterwards.

At this, she started clicking through fan tweets. Some were nicer than others, and each one weighed on her like a mountain.

I'm so sorry bbysss, get better soon! :(

Haha I bet Lucas got hit by a truck or something

This is so lame lmao when has sm evr relaesed a statement this fast?? it's for sure a coverup

Y/N forced herself to take a deep breath. No matter the scandal, injury, or announcement, there would always be people who made crazy wild guesses for the purposes of humor or sensationalism. There was no way any of these people knew what was really going on, right? Forcing herself to pry her eyes off the thousands of tweets, she chose to look at a few other things. If her phone was being monitored, it may be suspicious that her first actions was just to search WayV on Twitter.

Her next decision was to try and visit them. She knew where the detention center was, and they were technically just in holding until a temporary decision was made, so she had the right- if they accepted. Her guess was that they were all being held separately, although she wasn't sure if they'd be tried that way as well. Walking into the station, she told the man at the front desk of her intentions.

"I'd like to speak to the group of men that was brought in last night?" He looked up at her.

"Which one?"

"Are they detained separately?" He looked to his computer, clicking a few things.

"Not all of them. Not enough room. They're all in smaller groups."

"Who's with who?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Look, lady, I can't just hand out names. Either you know who you want to speak to or you leave before you get into trouble." She held up a hand in defense.

"Sorry, sorry." So who did she want to talk to? She wanted to ask for Lucas, but she assumed he had been taken to urgent care or a hospital of some sort. The chances that he was here were slim to none, and producing an incorrect name would be more than suspicious at this point.

"Ten." She finally said. Seeing the look on his face, she amended, "Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul." She was embarrassed at how flawlessly she could produce it, but she was a WayV fan, after all. His gaze changed from confusion to understanding.

"Sorry. The nicknames are written on here, his is just... kind of off the page."

"I get it." She watched as he stood, keys jingling as he unlocked the door to the back room.

"Hold on, I'll ask them if they want to see you." He disappeared for a moment, leaving her to wonder what their response would be. Maybe Ten had some kind of plan, maybe they had already escaped? It wasn't long before he returned.

"We're good to go." Leading her back, he explained, "We can't take them out of the holding cells, but you can talk from the hallway. Try not to bother the other inmates. It's fine if you want to talk to the rest of the group, but don't force them to do anything." She nodded. "I have to work the desk, but don't try anything. I can see you on the security cameras." She thanked him profusely, only daring to look through the bars once he had turned the corner.

Looking into the cell, relief flooded her body. Although it didn't look the most comfortable, she saw Kun and Ten both looking intently at her, seemingly surprised at her presence. She convinced herself that it wasn't a dream, that they were sitting right in front of her. She had gotten so used to being around them twenty four hours a day that being separated seemed ethereal.

"Oh, thank God." She wrapped her hands around the bars, leaning in. Kun and Ten glanced to each other, and then back to her. Finally, the leader muttered,

"Keep it down. The cameras don't have audio capabilities, but if we talk too loud the officer might hear us."

"What are you doing here?" Ten asked, basically destroying any semblance of official-ness that Kun had been trying to imbue. "Aren't you like, ratting us out to the cops?" Putting a hand to the back of her head, she laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, about that..." She explained what she had told them during her questioning, earning several insane looks from the both of them.

"You're kidding." Ten stuttered, "You really care?"

"That seems illogical." Kun stated quite bluntly. "You now put yourself in a position of perjury, as well as aiding and abetting should we be convicted. The only risk you run by admitting our situation is that we walk free and retaliate, which would be highly unlikely in that situation. It's frankly a stupid decision." Glaring, she mentioned,

"I can always walk back out there and tell the truth." Sighing, she continued, "Look, we need to find a way to bust you out."

"Impossible. Breaking out is practically admitting guilt." Kun stated. "We'd have to stay on the run forever, our music careers would be over, and our entire business network would shatter. Not only that, but we're more easily recognizable than any random criminal." At this, Y/N was starting to feel hopeless again. She knew he was right... Still, what could she do about it?

"Well what are we supposed to do?"

"Earn our freedom."

Go to chapter 3

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Forget Me Not Chapter 18 ~Infectious Madness~

Through heavy eyes and blurry vision, Willie stared at the door of a room in an abandoned and derelict manor house, hoping and praying Claire and Jamie would not walk through it. He knew it was wishful thinking as he could already see either one of them storming in like some avenging angel, demanding to take his place. On second thought, Jamie would have probably locked Claire somewhere in the hotel before bringing her anywhere near danger. They were both stubborn in their own ways, so much so, that it had frustrated him countless times.

When Annalise had ordered him at gunpoint to drive to the abandoned manor house, he hadn't been surprised. She knew of the place as she had seen it on the day he had volunteered to take her to the hospital. They had made a pit stop to look at the neglected structure after Willie saw it up for sale in the paper. Although he had his doubts about Annalise ever since she came to Lallybroch, his earlier suspicions of her lying about Claire being taken had made him extra cautious. Willie didn't want to take a risk and gamble Claire's life based on gut feeling. He knew he had to play his cards right as the lass was too perceptive for her own good.

He remembered the day when they had stopped at Ned Gowans office to deliver her documents, and he had told Annalise that the lawyer will sort out her papers so she can have access to the British healthcare. It wasn't a lie but what she didn't know was that her medical documents were also being checked for their authenticity. When he drove her back to Lallybroch, she had teased him about the way he had looked at Claire to which he had chosen to ignore despite feeling uncomfortable for her insightfulness.

Now sat on the dirty floor with his back up against the pillar, his hands were tightly secured behind the post. Annalise had used an industrial-sized cable tie used in their hotel kitchen, and he presumed she must have found them on his desk while snooping into his laptop. Under normal circumstances, he could have wrestled the gun from her, but the lass was clever. After arriving at the abandoned manor house, she had ordered him to stand by the pillar and to drink the bottled mineral water she threw at him. It must have been laced with some drugs prescribed for her own use, and it incapacitated him just adequately to lose his balance and coordination and make him drunk-like, long enough for her to tie his hands.

Glancing at the small clock Annalise had placed on a table, it had been forty minutes since she made the call to Claire. He wondered if Claire told Jamie or if she would come alone. If she didn't bring Jamie, he could be dead within the space of twenty minutes, leaving Claire to fend for herself.

Shut away in a small room, Willie barely heard the knock. Attempting to stay fully alert, he listened to Annalise's scraping movement on the wooden floor and the creaking of the entrance door opening. When Jamie's voice filtered through, he shook his head to clear the fogginess in his brain, and braced himself against the pillar, ready for any eventuality.

Suddenly, Jamie entered the room with hands in the air and not far behind was Annalise with the gun pointed at his back. Willie strained to see past them, looking for Claire but he didn't see her. Willie presumed Jamie must have left Claire without her knowing or did something to prevent her from coming. Either way, he didn't like seeing his brother there and offering himself a sacrifice. If anything happened to Jamie, Claire would be devastated. He could only hope Claire would stay away.

"Willie, ye alright?" Jamie's face was white as he looked over at his brother for any signs of injuries.

Willie could only manage a nod, saving all his energy for whatever might happen.

Jamie turned towards his ex-girlfriend. "Annalise, I'm here now. Let my brother go. I'll take ye back to France if that is yer wish." Leaving one hand up in the air, his other hand slowly reached for the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out two passports, his and hers. "We can go tonight and leave this all behind. Isn't this what ye want?"

"What about Claire? Where is she?"

"I made a mistake, Annalise. Ye need me, and I'm here to take ye home," Jamie said in a clear voice, but devoid of any emotion. "You don't need Willie. This is between us. And Claire is not coming, so ye can forget about her. Put the gun down now, please."

Willie was relieved to hear that Jamie managed to prevent Claire from getting involved. Although a part of him pained for her knowing any sacrifice on her behalf would destroy Claire, the relief overshadowed the pain.

Annalise tapped the gun against her thigh, considering Jamie's words. "I'll come with you, Jamie, but I need to get rid of him." She jutted her chin in Willie's direction, crazed eyes narrowing. "He tried to separate us, don't you see? It doesn't matter where in the world we go, he won't stop. Your brother is not interested in your happiness at all. Have you seen the way he looks at that English bitch?"

A low growl rumbled from Jamie. "Don't call Claire that," he said in a slow, deliberate tone. "She has been nothing but kind, and it was her idea to send me to France to look after ye. And I still want to do that. Come on, Annalise. Let Willie walk out of here, and we'll both go."

Annalise laughed. "Did you know your brother has a little folder in his desktop disguised as Italian recipes? Within the folder is another folder hiding his dirty little secret. There are pictures of Claire in it and a letter confessing his love for her and..."

"I never sent the letter, and that was from a couple of years ago..." Willie slurred the words out as he interrupted Annalise's rambling. He couldn't look at Jamie in the eye. Surely his wee brother knew that he would never have acted on what he felt for Claire. "It was a draft. I never sent it."

"Shut the fuck up!" she snarled, pointing the gun at him. "You ... you're finally going to get what's coming for you."

"Annalise, no!"

..........

Claire handed several pound notes to the taxi driver the second the vehicle slowed down, a reasonable distance away from the abandoned manor house. Not bothering to wait for her change, she opened the car's door and sprinted through the open field. Claire could see a faint light coming from the window of the derelict building, and just by the side of the road, Jamie's car was carelessly parked. Her heart thumped in her ears, stomach twisted in knots from worry that she had come too late.

When she left the hotel earlier, she had made a last-minute decision to send Geillis a voice message to let her know what was happening before switching her phone to silent. Relieved that Brian, Ellen and Jenny are safe, Claire focused her attention on the two brothers.

As she reached the house, she saw the entrance door was slightly ajar. Slowing her pace and calming her nerves, she slid past the opening, careful not to make any noise. Annalise's angry voice reached her in the front hallway giving Claire an idea someone was alive in there with her. Armed only with an antique pocket knife that belonged to her uncle Lamb, she reached out to the back of her jean pocket to make sure it was still there, hoping she wouldn't have to use it on Annalise. As much as possible, Claire tried not to give in to the waves of dread and worry she felt, knowing if she gave herself time to think, the thoughts would only serve to debilitate her.

Taking a deep breath, she followed the sound of Annalise's voice and pushed open the door that led to a small room. Scanning the scene in one quick swoop, Jamie's taut back was to her, ready to pounce as Annalise pointed the gun towards Willie. As soon as Willie had seen her, he tensed and shook his head, pleading her with his eyes.

Seeing that Willie was in the most danger, she rushed forward and inserted herself between Willie and the gun, ignoring Jamie's whispered expletives muttered under his breath. Immediately, Annalise lowered the weapon, eliciting loud gasps of relief from the brothers. Despite her jealousy towards the French girl, Claire had tried her best to make Annalise feel welcome in Lallybroch. A couple of times she had pastries sent to Annalise and had sent her text messages asking how she was. It must have counted for something, enough that Annalise let go of the trigger even if there was a hint of resentment in her eyes.

"Annalise, please put the gun down. It doesn't need to end this way." Claire was surprised at how her voice sounded steady and firm.

From behind her, she could hear Willie attempting to get on his feet despite his restrained hands. "Claire, please, get out of here, I beg of ye. Now!"

"What the hell are ye doin' Sassenach? Walk out of here now. I'm going with Annalise to take her back to France," Jamie said in a way that Claire would have believed that was his intention if she didn't know him any better.

Shaking her head, her eyes remained on Annalise and the gun. "I'm sorry, but I can't walk out of here. I want to make sure everyone is safe, including Annalise." She hoped Jamie and Willie won't say another word, intending to draw Annalise's attention to her. Extending her hand, she allowed everything except the girl in front of her to fade into nothingness, her measured breaths coming in time with her heartbeat. "Let me help you, Annalise. You are very ill, and you need to rest. Nobody is here to harm you." Claire knew Annalise had liver cirrhosis and understood too, after all the excitement, the fatigue caused by her illness would be enough to weaken her soon. She needed to stall.

Willie continuous shuffle from behind her didn't help her cause, as he was oblivious to Claire's progress. Whatever he had ingested, had dulled his reasoning. "Claire get out of here and walk away."

Annalise took a step sideways and re-aimed the gun at Willie. "He wants me to go to prison, and all I wanted is to be happy and be with Jamie. Is that too much to ask?" Then she aimed the gun back at Claire. "And you, you could have your pick of men, and you had to steal Jamie from me."

"Annalise, let's go and let them be. We'll drive to the airport now, and we could take the next flight to Paris," Jamie interrupted, extending a hand.

Annalise shook her head, muttering to herself, as she redirected the gun back to Willie. "He hates me, he wants me to go to prison. I can't have that, can we now? My family held me as a prisoner before. I'd die first before I go to jail. I'm sorry, Jamie. This is the only way."

Claire turned to look at Willie and her alarmed gaze connected to his. The resignation was etched on his face, as he nodded to her in reassurance. "It's alright, Claire. I've messed this up. This is all my fault."

Turning back around, she found Annalise's finger tightening on the trigger. Without thinking, Claire moved and threw herself in front of Willie to shield him from the oncoming bullet. At the very last second, there was movement behind her as if Jamie had anticipated her move. Using his body, he jumped too to protect her and Willie, his muscular frame spasming at the impact of the gunfire.

Blood rushed to her ears as she felt Jamie's body collapse behind her, both of them falling onto the floor beside Willie. Using all the strength she could muster with her hands, she turned around under his weight to get hold of him. Wrapping her arms around his upper torso to keep him upright, she felt thick moisture gushing over her hands. Blood! Oh, no, no, please! This can't be happening. "Oh, God, Jamie, please." From a distant, she could hear sirens approaching.

"Claire, untie me, please," Willie whispered, his voice trembling in panic.

Straining her head, Claire saw Annalise momentarily distracted by the gun she held in her shaking hand, staring at it in shock. Gently sliding from under the weight of Jamie so as not to aggravate his injury further, she crawled behind the pillar to unfasten the cable-tie on Willie's hand with her pocket knife. Once he was released, she shed her jacket and yanked her sweatshirt off and pressed it against Jamie's wound, while Willie, wobbly on his feet, tackled Annalise to the floor, kicking the gun out of the room.

"Jamie, look at me... stay with me, alright? We're going to get through this." Claire applied more pressure to his wound, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Blue eyes dulled with pain stared back at her. "Sassenach, this isn't yer fault, ok? I don't want ye to waste yer time blaming yersel'. He winced, his face contorted in pain. "Christ, I love ye so much. Always have."

His words wrenched a sob from her, unaware of the police that stormed into the room and took a shocked Annalise away. "I love you too, Jamie. Don't speak. Just stay awake for me and listen to my voice. Help is on the way."

Based on his expression, Claire knew her face betrayed the deranged agony battering her inside.

"Where's Willie?"

Claire's pulse leapt in panic as Jamie's tensed body slumped, appearing to be on the brink of unconsciousness. Trying her best to keep her sanity intact, she swallowed the dread back, her throat burning like it had been scorched with acid as a shrill whirring sound took resident inside her skull.

"Hey, I'm right here. The ambulance has arrived." Willie gently lifted Jamie's head and placed his jacket underneath.

"Listen to me, bràthair," Jamie wheezed. "Ye'll take care of Claire... promise me that. I need ye to promise me that."

"Don't be daft." Willie choked down the emotion, trying to be brave for all of them. "Ye'll be on yer feet soon to take care of ..."

"Damn it! Promise me!" Jamie gasped, his complexion turning grey by the second.

"I promise."

Jamie nodded his head and then his eyelids slowly drooped, succumbing to the grasps of unconsciousness. "Jamie!" When he didn't respond, excruciating pain ripped through Claire's heart, as she screamed curses to the ceiling, unaware of Willie lifting her off the floor and Geillis trying to get hold of her face. Her arms frantically reached out for Jamie, her feet kicking and body twisting against a sturdy grip that held her when the paramedics placed Jamie's immobile body on the stretcher and wheeled him away.

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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somefantasticplace · 3 years

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THE SECRET LIFE OF BOB

On living in a homeless hostel, a year of paralysis and the Hell's Angel who stole his girlfriend

"Do you want me to tell you the truth?" asks Bob Mortimer. "It’s just that most people want me to lie and talk nonsense to them." Generally, people like to assume that he is a funny little fellow wearing a bra and clutching an oversized frying pan all year round.

More than anyone else who has spent so much time on our television screens in the last ten years, the off-duty Bob Mortimer is an impenetrable character. He has always maintained a lower public profile than his cohort Vic Reeves and, such is the fantastical nature of his on-screen persona, it is almost impossible to consider the life he leads outside it. On the telly, his every move - whether he is lowered from a ceiling impersonating Liberace or mock-scolding his comic partner - is able to reduce an audience to hysterics. There’s something about the every movement of his diminutive frame that is unfathomably amusing . It’s much the same when he’s off duty; his face is boyish and cheeky, his eyes permanently excited and his shouty laugh an almost constant accompaniment to his words.

He’s surprised but willing when he’s asked to tell the truth. And, remarkably, he maintains his affable demeanour as he begins to recount it. For the 30 years before he was famous, he occupied a world characterised by drinking, violence, anarchy, homelessness and incapacitating illness. It was out of those often dark and disturbing experiences that Mortimer grew to become the self effacing, likeable and outstandingly funny 40 year old he is today.

"We got the shit kicked out of us"

A childhood in Middlesbrough

Bob Mortimer’s home was made to breed recklessness: there were four brothers and no father. His Dad died when he was six and his Mum was left to discipline the rabble as best she could. "She tried her best to be strict. My eldest brother was a rocker and the next one down was a mod. Ours was the house that all their mates would come round to because there was no dad."

While his troublesome siblings misbehaved on the streets of Middlesbrough, the young Bob would occupy his entire time with football. "I’d play all day long," he says. "I wanted to be a footballer and I went for the apprenticeship with Middlesbrough FC. I was in their under-15 team. At the end of the season you were dragged into the office to be told if you were going to be taken on and I wasn’t. It was a shock because I was good - one of the best in my town. But you don’t realise what a big world it is and how many other good players there are."

His passion for the club was therefore confined to watching from the terraces. He started in the early Seventies, when hooliganism was approaching its golden age, and developed a strange fascination for the violence that surrounded him. He spray-painted the words "Boro Boot Boys" on the wall of Barclays bank in Middlesbrough town centre, but he became less of an enthusiastic observer after experiencing yobbery close up: "When I was 14 we were at Leeds and suddenly found ourselves surrounded - they knew we were ‘Boro. We got the shit kicked out of us. I was running away when I looked back and saw three of the Leeds fans kicking the shit out of my brother. So I ran back to try and help but this little boy held out a coke bottle at about head height and it smacked me one. I managed to jump in and had quite a good impact at first but after that we were done. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking of. My brother was in hospital for weeks."

"I was a Libertarian Anarchist"

Becoming politically aware in Brighton

Being far more cautious about avoiding trouble, Mortimer went on to follow ‘Boro to 63 league grounds. It’s a statistic he reels off with childish enthusiasm. Remarkably, he continued his devotion even after leaving his home-town. When it came to choosing a university, the young Bob headed as far away from home as he could. "Quadrophenia had just come out and I loved the album," he says. "So I went down for my interview at Sussex University, I went and stood on Brighton beach and thought to myself ‘I’ve got to fucking come here.’ "

It was a whimsical decision that was to have a distinct impression on his character: "I’d just been in Middlesbrough playing football and all of a sudden I was studying stuff about racism which really opened my eyes. Until then I probably was a racist in so far as I just thought everything was fine. In Middlesbrough we had an Asian community but I never thought of them having anything to complain about. But once my eyes were open I developed that youthful passion about certain issues. I was a Libertarian anarchist. We chained ourselves to things and disrupted exams . It’s a load of wank really but it’s worthwhile on a personal level."

The first few months at Sussex were unhappy enough to tempt him to drop out. He remembers with distinct embarrassment the occasion on which he arrived at a law society ball, dressed in his Middlesbrough shirt and Doc Martens, to be confronted by a sea of chuckling Southern-types in tuxedos.

He found solace in the football team, of which he became a member and was coached by current Leicester City manager Martin O’Neil. While his new found politics provided a further focal point he didn’t become entirely serious. Drunk, he rampaged through the streets of Brighton one fateful evening putting in the front windows of two shops. "The police turned up straight away and all I could do was shrug, admit to it and say ‘Sorry, I’m pissed.’ " Threatened with a charge, his university tutor intervened and Mortimer was let off with an enormous fine. He spent years paying it off, but keeping his criminal record clean was essential to the career he was about to embark upon.

"I lived in a homeless hostel"

Hard times in South London

"I saw an advert that said: ‘Take on the government with Southwark Council.’ So I took the job as a lawyer." The newly idealistic Mortimer had taken a masters degree in welfare law and embraced the crusade against homelessness and degradation in one of the country’s most deprived boroughs. Ironically, it was he who ended up without a home. "I had nowhere to stay in London so the Council said that I could stay in their homeless hostel until I found somewhere. I ended up staying there for four years."

He admits he was shambolic in his day-to-day approach to working, but he was relatively successful as a lawyer. " I did a very good job of playing the system," he says with pride. "I could more or less guarantee people that could re-house them, which is what they wanted. They were living in dumps and I could get them out. It really changed their lives."

His successes were largely due to dogged approach to the job. This was an attribute he was to apply to his future career. "Bob is a worrier," says the Fast Show’s Charlie Higson, a long time friend and colleague who has recently directed Mortimer in Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased). "Whereas Jim [Vic to us] has an unswerving faith in everything they do, Bob studies tapes of their shows and takes extensive notes. He’s learnt a great deal from doing that, though."

Bob’s happy memories of legal success are harshly offset by the hardship he experienced during the same period. " I woke up one morning with rheumatoid arthritis," he says. "I went to lift my head but couldn’t. Then my mouth went. I had to drink through a straw and be dressed and bathed for about nine months." His girlfriend of the time nursed him through the illness in the confines of the hostel. Although there is an obvious downturn in his usually cheery expression, Mortimer recounts his experience with surprising matter-of-factness. Eventually, he found the right combination of pills to relieve the pain and return to work but the problem has forced him to abandon his love of playing football forever. "I just can’t do it, so I don’t think about it," he asserts briskly.

"I was pissed out of my head"

Meeting Vic Reeves

Work as a solicitor was arduous and poorly paid, but Mortimer ploughed on: after moving to a private practice he got 70 per cent of his 1500 clients acquitted. "I enjoyed being a solicitor at the beginning," he says. "But after a while the appeal tails off a bit and I was such a conservative fella that I didn’t think there was anything else I could do. I just though ‘Well, this is it for the next 30 years.‘ "

It took a dramatic course of chance events to redirect him. "I was living in this hostel with my girlfriend. I came home one dinnertime and found this Hell’s Angel shagging her. I was terribly upset. I was standing there in my suit because I’d just come from court, so I looked a right c***. I just told her to get out."

That evening, he was keen to drown his sorrows but had few friends in London. In the end, he looked up a vague acquaintance from Middlesbrough. "I’d never really been in touch with him but I was desperate so I gave him a ring. He said he was going to see his mate do a comedy show and I said, ‘All right, I’ll come.’ " The mate turned out to be Jim Moir who was performing as Vic Reeves for the first time that night at the Goldsmith’s Tavern in London’s New Cross. "It was just Jim and five of his mates in the room upstairs. There wasn’t much to it - everyone got up and did something, it was just arseing about." Bob describes himself as being "painfully shy" and implies that it was only the circumstances that had brought him to the pub that night that encouraged him to get involved in the comedy. Almost every week, word of mouth would cause the size of the audience at the show to double. In the end, it moved downstairs into the pub and Bob became more and more involved.

If his recently-scorned mood had encouraged him to perform on his first night with Vic, how did he overcome his shyness in front of a packed boozer? "I was pissed out of my head," he admits. "I can’t believe I did it. But they were nice people in the audience and they would come up and talk to me afterwards. There must have been something in that that tempted me to carry on. Jim is naturally quite outgoing but I don’t know what the fuck I was doing on the stage. Getting a reaction was quite intoxicating for a man who had always been shy." Vic refutes this, claiming: "I’ve never thought of Bob as particularly shy. But there was something in both our upbringings that discouraged us from ever parading ourselves like peacocks."

Bob still describes these early shows as the funniest things he and his partner have ever produced and, as crowds of 250 people began to fill the venue, television executives began to show an interest. "The show taking off was such a gift," he reflects. "I was so conservative that, even if someone had offered me another job when I was a solicitor, I would have said no. But the one thing no-one can resist is the offer to go on telly. Even when we got the offer to do a series I made sure I still had a job to go back to. In fact, I only took twelve weeks off work." Things were suddenly changing in all aspects of his life. Just before his television debut, he returned from a break in Middlesbrough to find the hostel burned down by the man who lived in the room below: "He didn’t think anyone was in but there was and they had to jump from the top to escape," Bob remembers.

He was re-housed by the council to a flat in a Peckam tower block. He stayed throughout the first two series of Vic Reeves Big Night Out on Channel Four, and when the BBC poached him and Vic (in what must have been a lucrative deal), he still remained in the flat. In fact, he was there for two whole series of The Smell Of Reeves and Mortimer, by which time he had become one of the country’s most high profile performers. Why? "It was nothing more than deep-rooted laziness," he confesses. "Eventually I bought a place up the road. But when I was still in the flat I remember Lloyd Grossman wanted to do a Through The Keyhole with me. It would have been funny because it was a real cockroach infested place, but I resisted the temptation."

"There's always one that wants to hit you"

Growing up

Today, Bob Mortimer is slightly drunk. "I tried absinthe for the first time last night and I haven’t really recovered," he reveals. His stocky figure is unusually bedraggled as he makes himself a cup of tea and recounts the proceedings of his night out, during which Vic showed him his large collection of photographs of dog excrement. His experimentation with absinthe was the first drinking he has done in a full six months. In fact, he says, he tries to avoid pubs altogether nowadays: "There’s always one when you’re just having a drink and they say: ‘Who do you think you are?’ And they want to hit you. And we’re not fighting men. I mean, unless we’re out with [Mark] Lamarr. He’s handy - is that the word?"

Mortimer embarks on yet another change of direction in the forthcoming BBC series Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased). In it, he and Vic make their debuts as straight(ish) actors. "Bob was a bit embarrassed at first," says Reeves. "He had a couple of weeks where he was coached for straight acting, but I don’t think he needed it. He does worry about things, like what show we should do next and what direction we should take. I just let him work it out in his own mind before I talk to him about it." Behind the playful, casual exterior, there appears to be an intensity borne out of the fact that he truly treasures his career.

Last year, he announced an intention to stop working for up to three years in order to spend more time with his family. Since filming Randall & Hopkirk, Bob has immersed himself in a long spell of doing nothing. "I enjoy it because it’s like when you used to nick off school when you were a kid," he enthuses. "And I know, eventually, I’ll be going back to work." He is also occupied with his two young children. "Fatherhood is a massive turning point. But it surprises me how many people say they enjoy it from the off. I mean, my memories of the first two years with both my kids is of not sleeping - passing my girlfriend on the stairs and saying ‘We’ve got to get through this.’ " He now sees fatherhood as providing a sense of purpose in life, as well as being a bit of a laugh. "Lying kids on the bed, putting adult clothes over them and drawing ‘tasches on them is fucking hilarious!" he says. "I remember when our plumber Ken Fowler came round to fix the boiler. My boy was sitting in a highchair wearing a vest and we’d drawn a big tattoo on his arm that said ‘I love Ken Fowler’." Hysterics ensue at the memory of the plumber’s bafflement.

Indeed, Mortimer is happy to get his kicks as a family man nowadays. The fact that he was 30 by the time he embarked upon a life in showbiz meant that he had a more considered approach to the trappings of his success. "Me and Jim are quite susceptible to ‘mad for it’ areas," he says. "But I suspect that, had it all been available to us when we were 18 not 30, it would have blown our minds. I think, being older, you have the perspective so you try and be polite and helpful. You see some young comics acting line c***s, like they’re a big deal. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have been like that myself at 18, but you do feel like telling them how lucky they are." Perhaps more than anyone in his position, Mortimer is well aware of what the alternatives are.

Later

April 2000

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