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peeterparkr · 3 years

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jaundiced & surreptitious; Anthony Bridgerton

sham, pride and illicit affairs | fic masterlist

read part one here read part two here read part three here read part four here

summary: you once loved each other, your hand belongs to him but it’s promised to another.

jaundiced: affected by bitterness, resentment, or envy. surreptitious: kept secret, especially because it would not be approved of.

word count: 8.3k (sorry I like writing)

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader

warnings: anthony is an idiot, this is really idiots who are lovers, like genuinely they’re so stupid. poor benedict has to deal with him.

wanna be tagged?

read part one here read part two here read part three here

next part.

Okaaaay so thank you so much for your support! I can’t believe you guys liked it as much as I did! Especial thanks to @steve-harringtonnn and @erodasghosts for helping me out with this chapter!!!

Anthony would often disregard the pain he’d felt before. He would never say it out loud but he had lost faith after his heart had been broken. The sun had never been as warm. Grieving was one of his favorite activities to live by, silently, to himself. The bloody-minded Anthony would die before ever admitting that his feelings had been impaired.

He was obstinate, he was well aware of that. And he was scared, and he wondered where he’d gathered the courage to walk through the crowds to her two nights before, as if it hadn’t pained him. Perchance his pride had led him there, or maybe his broken heart looking to be healed did. The wandering thoughts that would cease every so often.

Anthony loved to mourn, or make sure people think he was mourning. He often tried to be the smartest person in the room, he always failed. But he tried, and he counted himself on it.

He was flawed, he knew that. But he would try his best, so he’d pride himself on. However he could not forgive himself for being flawed enough to be rejected by Y/N.

Her eyes were carved in his mind, and he’d be reminded of her every morning when the sun dared to warm his skin, and with every flower petal that he saw her eyes would find their way back to his most wounded intellect, her eyes were her biggest sin, though he could be blamed for other blunders, he thought her sight was the biggest offense, for her eyes could see through any of his lies and hypnotize him enough to lose his reason, or the lack of it. How inconvenient he found that every beautiful morning belonged to her, and it would only hurt his heart. How inconvenient was it that her entire soul mesmerized him.

It was hard not to see her as a villain, however, maybe that’s why he tried avoiding the music, dancing was but another warning, triggering him of the night he’d seen the dress flying as she vacated the ballroom. And every time he found himself in the middle of a ballroom, he felt agony and despair. Anthony had always feared death, but he realized that he had already died once, when she’d left the ballroom. Being away from her had killed Anthony, and to be dead while still having to survive could be one of the most dreadful and painful things to endure. Anthony was now sure he’d died on that night, and he was sure that whatever death might feel like it wouldn’t be as painful as to be away from her. He thought his pain would be forever, that eternal sorrow.

His hand had felt cold since she’d left. Though, one could argue that his hand had been warm since the night before, as if he’d finally come back to life. The act, as most immoral as it was, had been the closest he’d been to a heavenly discovery of love and life. A very magnificent distraction.

There was light again.

He would deny it, but the darkness was the time he felt the loneliest, hence why he had searched for Sienna’s love, an escape from the life he would’ve loved with y/n. He was so desperate to be covered on something else, to erase y/n from his body that he’d try to find the closest thing to love on someone.

Worst thing had been he did find it, in a very unconventional way.

He would rather be a rake to the world than to ever admit that he had been broken-hearted. A man shall never seem weak to the world, though he was broken. Hushed to the night.

Yet, now he wanted to scream to the world that he was loved by the woman he loved. An iridescent glow coming from his chest, as he rode back home.

He had chosen the prettiest of the flowers, though they were very little to recommend and they’d look pathetic and sad beside the beautiful woman.

Anthony never liked being seen as a fool, yet he should not mind looking like one with her. Why would he be ashamed to say he’d fallen for such a remarkable lady.

Gardenias and peonies. He knew she’d love them. Not roses this time, he found the roses to be very contrasting to the delicate gardenias.

He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he’d arrived at his former household. Though he had not slept, he couldn’t have more energy. He hopped to the drawing room, in expectation to see the possible suitors that would come for Eloise, though she was not eager for them, and was rather trying to avoid any significant encounter.

Anthony couldn’t hide the beam, as he tried the sweets that his mama had displayed.

Eloise was plopped on the couch beside Benedict, as Violet tried to beg her to sit with grace and poise. Eloise had the latest copy of Lady Whistledown as Benedict tried to peek and read.

“Stop reading that nonsense,” Anthony said. “Such a lovely morning, is it not?”

Benedict scrunched his nose at his brother, mostly confused. Anthony stole one of the desserts Benedict had on his plate earning a groan from him.

Lady Violet watched her son, “I would like to address your behavior last night.”

The younger siblings smirked, knowing well that though their brother was an adult, he would often yet be scolded by their mama.

Benedict chuckled, “How come, mama, his behavior was rather impeccable.”

Eloise giggled. Anthony glared at his siblings.

“To suggest a fake proposal,” Lady Violet said with severity. “Most imposing irrationality. You shall not play with such calamities.”

“Do not worry, mama, a real proposal shall come soon enough, I shall be more rational in the future, ” Anthony declared. “Just this morning I sent Lady y/n flowers to thank her for her… most stimulating company,” Anthony coughed. “And as an apology for my behavior.”

His younger siblings looked up with confusion.

“Are you going to propose to Lady Y/N?” Asked Eloise.

Anthony cleared his throat, “I did not… say that.”

Eloise frowned. “Did you not find her disagreeable? Or why else were you bickering-?”

“Please, Eloise, that is Anthony’s way of courting, and I’m sure Y/N found it just as stimulating and flattering,” Benedict hissed.

Eloise cackled, “as if y/n would rejoice in any avow Anthony could make.”

“How come, brother you seem to be captured again in some possible infatuation when only last night you merely only barked towards the Lady?” Benedict inquired. Anthony tried to avoid his brother’s remarks.

Of course, he would not tell them how his night had been accomplished, and how the despair had transformed into a very pleasant evening. He shall keep the secret for it was, though most pleasant, very unsuitable and outrageous for the standards of the society. Though Anthony did bear some guilt for the scandal and the impropriety he thought it was most formidable to try and deny the linkage had been but an ardent reminder of his noble sentiments for the woman.

“As you mentioned, brother,” Anthony remarked snarkly, “Lady y/n and I share a very perplexing demeanor to show our affection towards each other.”

“Perplexing? Stupid, you mean,” Benedict mocked.

“Is there affection?” Lady Violet inquired.

Anthony huffed, “I guess there is no reason for me to harbor and censure my sentiments anymore,” he admitted. “However I shall not give any other explanation to this subject.”

Benedict glared, “Why the sudden change? I thought you did not regard y/n so dearly.”

Anthony paced around the room nervously, he did not want to address his feelings. How stupid would it be to admit he felt alive, and that he was entranced by her.

“She is a good friend,” Anthony alleged. “Why are you enquiring my sentiments? I would’ve believed you’d be wallowed with my announcement.”

His mother grinned, “I am.”

“I am not,” Benedict laughed. “Forgive me, but you can understand my confusion, are you suggesting you are friends now?”

“We have been,” Anthony hissed. “In any case, I’ve always been fond of her.”

“I must signal how your bickering has hindered us from believing there is some kind of attachment,” Eloise pointed out as she watched her eldest brother.

Anthony rolled his eyes, it had been a point in their bickering, to hide to them and themselves really. But really, challenging each other was but their way of admiring their wit. Anthony was stunned, not only with her beauty but with the way she spoke her mind. He was always left wanting more when it came to her, she rarely gave him anything but a headache, and apparently that was something very compelling to earn his heart. Not sure why.

Benedict laughed, “I think I understand now Eloise, we seem to have forgotten how big of a fool our brother is, the elusiveness Anthony has shown towards Lady Y/N has been but a lame attempt to tempt Miss Y/N and delude her enough for her to give some attention to our brother. Has it not?”

“Has it succeeded?” Inquired Eloise.

The night before was only proof it had. And it had not been elusiveness, he was transfixed on the lady’s wit, he couldn’t keep up with her, that was the reason. He was dotted with her surliness, the way she’d wag his words. Anthony loved being a fool for her, such a capable woman she was. However, it shall be noted he loved being fooled by her intellect and the false peevishness, not by her exclusion.

“What has?” Questioned Colin, as he had walked into the drawing room. Lady Violet was rather annoyed the only men in the room were but her own children and not any possible suitor for Eloise.

“Anthony’s bickering,” Eloise looked up, as she reached for a box of sweets to nibble by her own. “Apparently his arrogance and stupidity were but to woo Miss Y/N,” explained Eloise.

Anthony winced,“May we change the subject? I believe it is a matter of more importance—“

Colin laughed, interrupting him. “I believe those attempts have succeeded, were you not here last night? Was Miss Y/N not looking forward to not running away this time? Even after Anthony suggested such a scandalous scheme?”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Are you not to go elsewhere?”

Benedict grinned, “Why? Are you not to share with him your news?”

“News?” Colin frowned with curiosity.

“Apparently our brother might attempt to court Miss Y/N,” Benedict mocked. “I believe.”

Colin faked surprise, “Really? Are we suggesting that Anthony could have any sort of sentiments that aren't self depreciation and remorse?”

Benedict and Eloise laughed, hardly. Their mother only directed a glare towards them.

“How amusing,” Anthony barked. “However, if you must know, there is affection towards her and I must try and delight her,” Anthony cleared his throat, Benedict snickered. “And I hope she gives me the honour of accepting my hand.”

He knew that the bomb he had dropped would be enough to shut his siblings. And it was.

Lady Violet smiled, ignoring her sons and daughter’s remarks. “Are you really planning on proposing?”

Anthony tried to hide his excitement, and embarrassment, for the matter, he’d never been keen on showing any kind of excitement for any infatuation. Besides, he didn’t believe it himself, how he would dare to propose. “I am not sure where my compliments might take me, however I am not here to talk about my attention and regards to Lady Y/N, we are here to try and persuade any respectable man to bestow any attention to our lovely sister.”

“However, you shall make sure your infatuation is reciprocated,” Benedict advised. “Be sure the lady will not leave amidst dancing.”

“I believe it was Anthony the person who gave me the advice that eventually my heartbreak from Miss Thompson would disappear, and that it would be as if I had never loved her at all.”

Anthony glared.

“Yet he is going after the person who broke his heart, did your own precepts fail you?” Colin asked.

It was something that did bother Anthony, and that he did fear, he knew y/n to be the most unexpected and inopportune to make her decisions. She often hesitated and reconsidered her thoughts Y/N was very volatile and her emotions would go from extreme affection to utter rage and while it was something he often appreciated, it was something he feared now. He feared the remainder of his heart would be scattered across the place. Anthony would never say out loud how much he feared ballrooms now. Almost as much as he feared bees, but he wouldn’t ever admit it. He knew he was but a fool to fall for y/n, eerie and untamable. He didn’t regret it, however.

Anthony coughed, “I could’ve never erased my feelings for her.”

Eloise glared at him and then finally turned to her copy of Lady Whistledown. Anthony rolled his eyes, it was no secret he didn’t like reading Lady Whistledown. He would try and not feed her with anything. He was definitely not a vivid reader. He found her rather vapid, if he were honest. He was never a fan of gossip and avoided it, most of the time. However, since Lady Y/N’s arrival, he could not help but read whatever Lady Whistledown could say of her, just to feed his dislike against her. She spoke of y/n in a way that was most repulsive. Derision seemed to be the only language the woman spoke.

He did not like the way the pesky Lady Whistledown spoke of y/n, or her history with him, if he was to be honest. Anthony resented that she’d written about his own pride and his heartbreak when there was barely any information he understood himself about it. It was for them to know.

However, he was rather relieved that Lady Whistledown did not know of the… affairs he’d held with Lady Y/N. Though now guilt was killing him, he did not regret it. He felt alive whenever he was with her, and he didn’t feel alive often.

After the heartbreak, he had decided to lock his heart and never use it again. Though Sienna had managed to almost get it back, his heart had not felt the warmest but until the night before.

And though he had promised to never use his heart again, there he was again, with a foolish smile.

“She is talking about you again,” Eloise pointed out. “And Lady Y/N-”

Anthony chuckled, “Expected,” he commented. “Now, dear sister, there is no soul here and I must say this is not my fault,” he cleared out. “I have not jostled any suitors from you, I know better.”

Benedict scoffed, “She jostles them herself, no need for us to.”

Violet took a deep breath. Anthony smirked as he picked up a cup of tea.

Eloise turned cold as she finished reading. “She is to be married-”

“Who is?” Violet grinned. “You? Most certainly-”

“No, mama,” Eloise commented, and then watched Anthony. “Y/N’s hand is promised to Lord Collins.”

The cup of tea shattered on the floor, though the Bridgertons were not sure if the shattering porcelain had been what they’d heard breaking. Anthony’s face had gone stiff and pale.

“I beg your pardon?” Was all he managed to ask.

“It says it here,” Eloise explained.

Violet snatched the paper from her daughter, “Is she toying with the lack of heart Anthony Bridgerton holds and is she trying to fool everyone just to appeal more to Lord Collins, who according to the ton has her hand promised already?” Read out loud.

“Did you know about this, mama?” Questioned Collin.

“I certainly did not,” Violet assured her son, and turned to the eldest who was going through a very familiar feeling. He did not say a thing, he only clenched his jaw and widened his eyes.

There he was again, transported back to the night when the moon had not made an appearance, and when the poison had flourished from the floor to apprehend him down to his sorrow. He felt as he had been pushed off yet again down a precipice.

Benedict and Colin only watched him, expecting the very worst. Instead, Anthony only took a deep breath. Anthony despised having his heart broken, and instead decided to be angry, for its a manlier sentiment. He stormed off the room anyway, quietly.

“Am I supposed to follow after?” Questioned Benedict, and then proceeded to, seeing as his brother rushed down the stairs and off the household. “Anthony!” He broodingly called.

Anthony pushed his way through, not noticing there were gentlemen going up to see his sister, he was rather too angry to even add more jealousy to his displeasure.

“Anthony,” Benedict called again.

Anthony ignored.

Benedict ran this time to stop his brother, stopping the fuming man as he glared at him. “What?”

“I believe I should stop you before you do anything stupid, which judging by your look, you’re on your way to do so,” Benedict barked not letting Anthony through.

Anthony gave him a warning glare, “Let me through.”

“You’re being an idiot,” Benedict said.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Anthony said

“And that is why I must stop you,” Benedict said. “If I don’t know you any better you’re on your way to kill Lord Collins.”

Anthony scoffed, he had not thought of that idea but now he found it rather exhorting. “I am on my way to speak to the Lady,” he tried walking through but Benedict stopped him once again.

“Shall I know what’s going on through your head? Last night you both were opposed to even being on the same room and then this morning you come with the idea of proposing, I do not even know what is-”

“I love her,” Anthony snapped. “That is what is going on through my head.”

“How did you even change your mind-” Benedict paused and then watched his brother. “Did you go and see her?” He asked in a faint whisper.

Anthony coughed and looked elsewhere, “I did not, I just realized my childish act was but an antic to evade my actual feelings for her.”

Benedict did not buy it. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t,” Anthony glowered.

“You really don’t?” Benedict bristled. “What amuses me is that you try to justify your childish acts and stupidity with love when we are both aware those are but a matter of your personality.”

“How amusing,” Anthony scowled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Benedict grabbed him by his arm, “I shall think you know better than to go and throw a tantrum to Miss Y/N. I know you’re capable of fucking up, but this goes beyond your usual behavior.”

Anthony opened his mouth to defend himself but knew he couldn’t actually contradict him. “I do not plan on throwing a tantrum, I will only recover the flowers I sent her this morning, I find it improper to try and court an engaged lady.”

“So you will not fight for her, then?” Benedict queried, astonied.

Anthony did not know if he could. “Shall you suggest I do?”

Benedict coughed, “I would think it would be reasonable but… In a civil way, not in an Anthony way.”

“An Anthony way?” He questioned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Since her arrival your stupidity has escalated in immeasurable ways, I certainly am very impressed because I did not believe that to be possible and yet you are here,” Benedict cackled.

Anthony glared.

“Look,” Benedict sighed. “We could give this more thoughts, and see the best way we can proceed with this, however, today we shall get our lovely sister to the park, she needs to be seen,” he reminded him. “You can be stupid later.”

He would, Anthony knew. He was the most illogical human being when it came to Lady Y/N, and he did not know how to proceed. He was lying, he actually had planned on throwing a tantrum to her, for he was not yet to be fooled again and let there standing like a complete idiot.

And a complete idiot you were too, you were the one in need to throw a tantrum, for you did not want to meet Lord Collins and you certainly did not want to be betrothed to him. You were well aware that he was a fair gentleman, and you knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors the ravenous mamas were hunting for, but you did not want anything to do with him.

You thought of it, the possibility to ruin your reputation, it could be a way to untangle yourself from said arrangement. What if you admitted that you were corrupted? How big of a scandal would it be?

No, you would not dare to bring Anthony down. Not now that he was being so soft to you, and that was not Anthony in the slightest. Though it did surprise you he had not yet stormed into the room like the complete idiot he was.

Had he… read it?

You knew Anthony better, he probably did not follow the gossip, and if you were lucky he’d think that Lady Whistledown was but inventing things. She was not but if he used any kind of reasonable sense he would know better. But this was Anthony and he used anything but his mind to think, and he would not be reasonable. He never was before and you doubted he’d be now.

“I cannot marry him,” you said to Lady Danbury, who had been watching you pace around the drawing room for a while now. The flowers Anthony had sent were displayed in the middle of the room.

You were not sure but you could tell Lady Danbury suspected something, she’d always been observant but the woman’s stare was telling, she could easily see past your sweating hands.

“I’m afraid I’m not the one to make that decision,” Lady Danbury commented.

“Shall I write a letter to my father to beg him to not offer my hand?” You asked. “Don’t I have any saying on it? It’s my hand.”

“I would think you’d need to have another proposal,” The woman explained to you. “However, I am not sure if there will be any more.”

“There might be,” you mumbled, and continued to rush through the room, as if moving faster would get your thoughts fast, too. “Can I reject his hand?” You questioned.

“He will grant you security,” Lady Danbury watched you, “He is a respectable man.”

“I am well aware he is.”

But I do not… love him, you thought.

Yes, the man was respectable, and a very handsome one, but rather cliched. Eager, but the man was rather thoughtless. You knew his conversation was boring, only compliments and questions about the weather, he was very boring. Always agreeing, and what fun was it in someone always agreeing with you. And he liked to talk about the moon and made it seem like the most horrendous and tedious thing to ever be seen, he liked to talk about anything, but not any kind of pleasant conversation. Very tiresome if you must admit, full of banalities.

Probably you’d have a very insipid life if you were to marry such a bland and hacky man. One that most ladies would want, however.

Anthony, on the other hand, the brooding and plucky man, always had you on the edge. He was an adventure for you. He was incredibly handsome. Or maybe he wasn’t and it was just your nonsensical sentiments for him blinding you.

“Lord Collins can offer an idyllic calm life.”

“I can recognize that,” You admitted, you made your way to the window, a window where you’d talked to Anthony the day before. You took a deep breath, you could see the back house in the garden, a place that you found most intimate now. That was idyllic for you, the taste of his lips, to feel like it’s a June afternoon when it’s a cold December morning only because his smile warned your heart just enough.

You were sure Lord Collins wouldn’t be able to offer that, and that he would not like to avoid the balls because he loved them, though you despised them. You knew he would not listen to your piano forte, though the melodies you played were very tepid, and telling.

You knew you’d have to walk through his household, bored every morning and share the most ordinary conversations, leading to a miserable life, only because your hand had been promised to a man who you did not love, but who was adequate. Only because your instability had not been able to accept the proposal of whom your heart held dear.

You still stared at the cottage where you could see the shadows of your hands. What if you escaped? Forever. Would he escape with you if you dared to ask him?

“I presume security is the outcome expected from a marriage,” you said. “Love is a bonus, is it not?”

Lady Danbury yanked her head. “I suppose so.”

“Is marriage really only but a security arrangement? Or is it merely to satisfy men's lust and appetite.”

The woman coughed in surprisement, “I would rather not engage on such improper subjects of conversation.”

“Is it not?” You frowned. “I believe marriage to be only that, to bare children, to relieve men from their sins. Build a legacy.”

“I believe marriage is also to prospere,” Lady Danbury added. “When a marriage is founded on love then it shall be the most prosperous, not sinful.”

“Yet here I am, with an offer to a disagreeable partnership,” you barked. “I thought those arrangements to be deemed contemptible.

“Lord Collins is not disagreeable,” Lady Danbury coaxed.

You sighed, “I guess not, he is a fair man, and most kind,” you admitted. You didn’t want to give in to your fate just yet. Seemed old fashioned, very 18th century. You were assumed to tolerate him, and you knew your father would not choose a beast for a husband for you. However, you did not want to dread this, to be offered tolerance and not love was an atrocious destiny. “I presume he can offer me a calm life.”

Lady Danbury watched you, “However, Lord Bridgerton might be able to offer such a life, too.”

You smiled, “He most certainly would not.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Oh?”

“No, not calm, Anthony is anything but calm,” you chuckled. “Maybe that is why the life he could offer me would be most enticing.”

You knew that it would be fun, exciting. And that he would not mind if you woke up early to see the dawn, and he would join you and not expect you to be the most respectable lady, but he’d respect you, if you wanted to be respected that is .

Lady Danbury only caressed the flower petals and walked to you. You needed to perish the thoughts of love, though.

“You’re never one to watch with melancholy,” She pointed out.

“Oh, I certainly am, gloomy as I can be, and am I expected not to?” You wondered. It was the worst chastise one could have possibly thought for you, to marry a boring man. To marry to tolerate.

“I guess not,” she admitted.

You sighed.

“He is yet to propose,” Lady Dabury remarked with mischief. “I know Lord Collins is respectable enough to want to court you properly.”

“He wants to court me?” You questioned.

Lady Danbury smirked. “Yes, though he is aware your hand is promised to him, he is someone who will pursue your love.”

“My heart belongs to another,” you stated. ��He will find it rather impossible to pursue my love.”

Lady Danbury chuckled, “How impossible?”

“Only one man has been able to conquer my heart, and his way of doing so was rather eerie and unusual.”

Lady Danbury smiled.

“I must ask, do you believe that if I ensure another proposal I might be able to rid myself of such entanglement?” You questioned. “After all, he’s not yet asked for my hand.”

“Do you think you could ensure it?”

“Probably already have,” you said.

“And who may that be?” Lady Danbury asked, not because she did not know but because she wanted you to say it out loud.

Before you could, a servant announced, “Lord Collins is here.”

Your heart stopped, your bethrote. And suddenly the perfect morning you had had just hours ago had disappeared. You knew you could not stop the rain from falling but this particular sorrow was not the best way to receive the man who had your hand promised. You would not be able to smile and you would not be able to have any kind of courtesy.

He walked in, though, the man was clean and proper. Handsome, with flowers. Red roses, freshly cut you could see. You saw one petal fall down as he approached you. How convenient, you thought, for you could find the petal on the floor more interesting.

It felt cold, and you were unaware why. You’d fancied yourself in love with another man who was not offered your hand.

“Lady y/n, good morning,” he said. “How radiant you are this morning.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, you were never fond of compliments. You also had the urge to run away. You wouldn’t, though it was tempting. He was a respectable gentleman, and respected he should be, no matter the opinions you held of him. You found him very dull.

Lady Danbury nudged you lightly, seeing as you had only remained quiet with your eyes wide open and with a wide strained smile.

“My apologies, I seem to be inattentive this morning,” you answered. “Good Morning, my Lord,” you said. “Thank you for your compliments, and flowers.”

Lady Danbury watched you with dashing hopes.

“I was hoping I could tempt you with a promenade on this fine day,” Lord Collins grinned. “I know how fond you are of walking.”

“How lovely,” you said.

How dreadful, you thought. You were, though, fond of walking. Gave peace to your mind, and it had helped you those months before, to try and suppress the memory of the eldest Bridgerton. It had most certainly failed you.

Before you could even think of escaping, you found yourself promenading with Lord Collins, the sunlight was indeed lovely, and there was barely any sign of the storm from the night before. Lady Danbury was following shortly behind.

Was there any sign of your compromised body? You wondered if they could tell, maybe it was noticeable.

You wondered if Lady Danbury noticed how jaded you were, as you faked to listen to the man talk, and talk, and talk. Whoever told men they were interesting to listen to was clearly deaf or another idiotic man, for who could ever find joy in listening to such banal and brainless individuals. However, he did not cease his talking. He never listened to you, you’d barely said any words.

It gave you time to go away to whatever world you could escape to, and you thought about how much Anthony did listen. He did converse with you, and he did listen, mostly, you knew, because he loved to pride himself on being brooding and pensive and quiet. You could say that it was because he was but a fool and not a single thought roamed his mind, but whatever his reasons were, you loved that he would listen, even if it was only to contend and fuss you.

There was magic in Lord Collins, you had to accept that. The man was so interested in listening to his own thoughts that he did not realize you were not nearly even paying a gram of attention to him. You guessed that if you did end up wedded to this man, the positive outcome was you did not have to try and pretend to be interested, for he would not notice.

Your mind was trying to find a way to reject him, knowing that Lord Collins was honorable enough to accept your rejection. But how would you reject him?

Why had it been so easy to reject Anthony, the man you loved, but it came nowhere as easy to reject Lord Collins, a man who you had no sentiment for, perchance just indifference. And would you even be able to? Your hand was promised, and though you believed Lord Collins to be a fine gentleman, you knew he could show his dark side, every man had one.

Though you’d met him before, he had claimed to love you. Lord Collins had once said it to you.

But you didn’t love him, you couldn’t possibly. How could you? After Anthony, no one would ever touch your soul and heart like he had. Though he was a wrecked mess, he was the man who you decided to hold dear to your heart.

Perhaps you could admit you were corrupted, and maybe Lord Collins would end the disgraceful engagement that was yet to come.

Your glance diverted on the park, the trees and the flowers that had bloomed this season, lovely, or so bad Lord Collins pointed out. The other couples trying to court, and their respective chaperones. Vicious mamas in the haunt, some of them sending you the most unwelcoming glares.

You were walking near the tents, you saw the Featheringtons’, with their bright colored clothing, you wondered how they could be so deficient in their clothing taste. You did not know what had happened to them, a man was standing nearby and you knew barely anything about their story after Lord Featherington passed. Penelope was your favorite of the Featheringtons, you often believed her to not belong in such a pitiful family. You acquainted them from before, knowing that Prudcence and Philippa often showed their slight infatuation with Anthony. You never blamed them but thought of it rather foolishly. Though at some point you did find it annoying, how dare them fancy the same man you did, though you were thankful that Anthony saw them as piteous as you did. You wondered if they had continued to try and impress them with their dubious talents, you had nothing against them, honestly, before you’d learned their infatuation you liked them just fine, however after learning they fancied him, you were not as courteous with your regards.

It was no secret you were a jealous person, but Anthony was, too so it balanced. You always were thankful that Anthony despised dancing, as much as you did. You barely could deny any invitation to dance but at least he did not dance with anyone else.

You kept your way, and then another tent was seen, the Bridgertons. Displaying the family in their splendour, as they were sitting , with Eloise quite unamused. You knew she’d rather be dead than to face any possible forms of courting.

Your breath failed you, as the dress felt rather tense. You did not want to see the Bridgertons and you knew Eloise had most definitely already read Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. She would know, and besides, the man was by your own side.

Lord Collins, still absorbed in his own conversation, pranced beside you. You tried not to see the family, knowing that they’d end up feeling your stare and Anthony would see you.

Did he know?

But your glance could not be stopped, as you then glanced again, and it had been as if it was planned, for his sight was locked with yours. His eyes widened as he watched you. With terror.

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was to drop and shove Lord Collins out of the way and run to the man who’d compromised you, body and soul, but who you loved nonetheless.

But he was glaring at you. Or at Lord Collins, or at both.

You saw him quickly rise to his feet, for he had been plopped on a stool. He didn’t do anything but to stare at you, as if with merely staring he’d be able to get the man away from you. His eyes tried to work as daggers, and they often did, his glance though most adoring to you, was now nothing but frightening.

You knew Anthony well enough to know he was tormenting with jealousy, and if you knew him well enough, you could tell he was idiotic enough to believe that Lord Collin’s sentiments were reciprocated.

Anthony was fuming, though you were not sure if it was jealousy, or if he believed to be fooled again. You wished it was only jealousy.

He was about to walk your way, but you saw Benedict rise to stop him, he failed.

Anthony was making his way to you even when his family had tried to call for him. He ignored them, he was good at doing that.

Lord Collins wasn’t even aware of how you had lost your breath and how you had held some type of staring contest with the oldest Bridgerton, whose hands were in fists as he decided to go on a different route instead, Benedict on his heels. You watched him approach the Featheringtons, you saw eagerness in Lady Featherington as she ushered Philippa to join Anthony.

You scowled, what in the world was the man doing? You believed him to be stupid, but stupid enough to make a Featherington join him in his promenade was rather a most idiotic decision.

Your eyes were glued to him, unbeknownst to Lord Collins, as Philippa was rather ungraceful as she walked along Anthony. Benedict was also joined by the other sister, Prudence, who also seemed to be happy to be joined by a Bridgerton. You could listen to their absurd giggles from afar.

Did Lord Bridgerton think the Featheringtons would bring you jealousy? If anything the animosity was for the thought alone that he would think it would bother you.

But Anthony was walking fast, and poor Philippa could barely keep up with him, you chuckled to yourself, it was amusing to think the poor girl believed she was actually being courted and rather not used as a jealousy device.

“Collins,” Anthony called as he was close enough, Philippa watched you. “Lady Y/N, how delightful to see you both here.”

Benedict threw an apologetic stare at you, before yanking his brother’s arm. Prudence gushed after.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Collins gave him an unfeigned smile, as he was finally restored from his conversation. “Such a fortunate coincidence, ladies, how beautiful you look this morning.”

You wondered how big of a coincidence it was.

“Anthony,” you quickly said but then cleared your throat, “My apologies, Lord Bridgerton, how delightful to encounter you,” you said. “Philippa, Prudence,” you smiled at them as they tried to not glare at you. “Lord Bridgerton,” you saw Benedict struggling to keep a calm facade.

“Forgive me, I shall defer my raptures for another occasion,” Benedict said. “I’m afraid we are promenading with these ladies,,” he tried pulling Anthony back but the man did not move.

“I am sure you can keep promenading just fine, Benedict,” Anthony warned. “It won’t hurt us to engage in some conversation.”

“Who would’ve thought we would concur here?” Lady Danbury said from behind as she approached you. “Lords Bridgerton, ladies.”

“Lady Danbury, may I say you look astonishing,” Anthony said and then directed his glance at you.

Lady Danbury watched him with suspicion. “I’m flattered,” she said. “I’m pleased to see you gentlemen opportuning this lovely day to parade with these ladies.”

Philippa grinned, as she kept watching Lord Bridgerton’s face, as if his face had some kind of magnet she had to be glued to.

You thought of it pathetic, from Anthony of course, as you could see his obvious chagrin. You knew that he was not fond of them, because they were always trying to raise their… talents, if one must call it that way, to find a proper husband. They often failed.

“It is a lovely day,” Anthony agreed. “Seems to be the proper weather after having to engage on such a turbulent night, the storm was unpleasant.”

“Was it, my Lord?” You quickly enquired. “I would have believed you were very fond of the rain, and… turbulent storms.”

Anthony glanced at you, he was disappointed but he knew you did not talk about the rain. “You are mistaken,” he said severely. “I do not like to fret on the rain when I am not well aware if it will cease. I find uncertainty disturbing.”

“I believe the rain to be rather bitter,” Philippa intruded.

You did not even look at her, “I do not,” you said. “I believe we can find beauty in the rain for most dreary that it can be, especially when it offers such a sight.”

Lord Collins grinned, “I agree with Miss Y/N, the rain is rather soothing.”

Anthony scoffed, “Of course it is soothing, when you’re aware the sun will eventually dawn.”

This was not about the rain. But neither the Featheringtons or Lord Collins was aware of that.

“I believe the rain to be essential,” Lady Danbury interrupted. “We shall enjoy the beauty of it when it starts and when it dares to cease,” she spoke starkly. “However, Lord Bridgerton, I must praise you for the flowers you sent this morning, they were lovely, were they not, Miss Y/N?”

Lord Collins blinked in surprise. “Flowers?”

Philippa scowled at you.

“Lovely, indeed, thank you, Lord Bridgerton for the most exquisite flowers,” you said.

Anthony ignored your sight.

“Flowers?” Lord Collins asked again.

“Yes, I sent Miss Y/N some flowers to thank her for her company last night,” Anthony said with arrogance, you blushed immediately knowing exactly for what company he was thanking you for. “She joined my family and I for a lovely dinner. Besides I find the lady to be deserving of the most magnificent flowers.”

Benedict frowned watching between Anthony and you.

Philippa cleared her throat, “I love flowers,” she commented.

“How considerate,” Lord Collins said, you could tell he was not fond of Anthony. He was probably aware of Anthony’s proposal, or attempt to propose, and it was no secret that in your past season, Anthony would not leave your side.

“Yes, her favorite,” Anthony continued, ignoring the lady beside him.

“Roses?” Lord Collins questioned.

“I like roses,” Philippa commented.

“Gardenias,” Anthony snarked with a smirk. “She’s fond of gardenias, are you not, Miss?”

“I find all flowers delightful, however I do have an attachment for gardenias,” you admitted. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton for remembering.”

He wanted to scoff, he cleared his throat instead. “My pleasure,” he said. “ I must admit the true reason for me to approach you,” Anthony slurred his words with poison. “I recently became acquainted with the news, so I am here to congratulate the two of you, I heard about your engagement.”

He knew, then.

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, he seemed tired of his brother.

You blinked with fake surprise, “Engagement? Oh, we are but promenading, I was not aware walking led to a betrothal. Shall I assume you and lovely Philippa are to be married as well?” You asked with a smug smirk, knowing he’d be bothered.

He was, Anthony glared at you. He knew you were faking ignorance.

Lord Collins huffed, “You flatter me, Bridgerton, thinking I am already to be married to this beautiful lady, however, I know better than to assume the Lady will marry me without a proper proposal.”

“I think I’d be aware if I was to be married,” you hissed.

“Absolutely, you would be aware, how could you not?” Anthony raised his eyebrow.

Benedict watched, “Seems that this is the first time the lady hears of the news.”

“It happens to be the first time,” you lied.

“How convenient,” Anthony said with gritted teeth. “Well, I am not to engage in gossip, however-”

“Lady Whistledown announced it,” Philippa commented

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed. “The ton happened to be loud enough for your engagement to be announced on Lady Whistledown’s society papers.”

“Well, if we were to believe everything she writes then I’d be worried if I were you,” You claimed watching Anthony. “She seems to not be fond of you, my Lord. Are you suggesting we shall believe everything she writes?”

Anthony clenched his jaw.

“The Lady’s right,” Lord Collins said.

Anthony cackled, “Excellent news then,” Anthony said. “I offer my apologies to you, both.”

Lord Collins watched him with disdain.

“Is your hand not promised, then?” Asked Prudence, finally making an appearance behind Benedict.

Everyone turned to her, but Anthony directed the most special glare at her. No one dared to say a thing.

“Fair question,” Anthony intruded.

“And one that is too bold to be enquired,” Lady Danbury stepped in. “I advice you young Lady not to meddle in Miss Y/N’s business, and rather take care of your own matters.”

“The Lady shall decide if she concedes me the honor to take her hand,” Lord Collins answered.

Anthony chuckled, “I shall wish you good fortunes.”

You took a deep breath.

Benedict cleared his throat, “I believe we shall continue our stroll.”

Anthony did not move.

“Excellent idea,” You conceded. “We shall not waste the lovely weather, a promenade is most invigorating.”

“Shall I suggest walking and talking, then?” Offered Anthony. “I think the activities are not exclusive.”

You closed your eyes, you did not want to continue engaging in the conversation.

“How amusing you’re suggesting that, Lord Bridgerton,” You poisoned. “Here I would have assumed you’d rather have some solitary time with ravishing Miss Featherington here,” you derided.

Philippa grinned.

He raised his eyebrows, he was trying to tell if you were jealous. You were not, if anything you were amused of the entanglement he’d dragged himself into with his attempt of bothering you.

“Are you not finding this conversation pleasing?” Anthony questioned you. “I would have believed you to be more fond of conversing.”

You chuckled, “I rather be taciturn and quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirked. “Shall we?” He started to walk. You directed a glare at his younger brother who only sighed.

Lord Collins raised his brow, “The Lady is quiet, I do not know why you’d find that hard to believe.”

Anthony laughed somberly, “You seem to be puzzled, Collins,” Anthony remarked. “Miss y/l/n is never quiet, unless she is engaged in other kinds of activities.”

He was being an arse.

“Other activities?” Philippa questioned.

“Lord Bridgerton is speculating,” You cleared up. “I assume he is suggesting I’m quiet when I play the pianoforte, or embroider.”

“Absolutely,” Anthony grinned. “However, I’ve been acquainted with you my whole life and I must remark you’re a woman who finds interest in chatter.”

He was mocking you.

“Not when I find it impertinent,” you sassed.

Lord Collins smiled, “A talented and accomplished woman.”

Anthony raised his brow, watching him. He was hurt, but he then proceeded to watch you as if asking you if you were serious with this.

You tried to look away, you could not believe how big of an arse he was and you could not believe his stupidity. Had he suggested you were aware of the engagement? And would he do anything about it or just keep being an arse? If he rushed his proposal he might be able to free you, however you knew Anthony to be an idiot. And you knew the man to be su full of his pride, that he would possibly try to be the biggest idiot he could before making any reasonable statements. You were in the need to have a word with him.

Lord Collins started talking again, Philippa listened this time. Eagerly. Seemed like the pair was rather absorbed in their own conversation for your own fortune. Behind, Benedict was trying to not die of awkwardness as Prudence and him were not even trying to engage in small talk. Not even about the weather.

Anthony was only peeping at you every now and then, brows furrowed. You slowed your pace, letting Lord Collins be wrapped in his words enough to not notice you’d fallen behind with Anthony.

“I suppose it is unworthy to try and explain I was oblivious to it,” you whispered.

Anthony shrugged, “You must understand why said statement is hard to believe,” he growled.

“It is honest,” you said.

“I’ve always known how fond you are of keeping secrets,” he barked. “Forgive my hesitation, but my doubts are not unwarranted.”

You glared. “Your behavior is.”

He grinned, “Fine, then I shall withdraw, I do not wish to vex your pleasant morning,” he said.

“Anthony,” you bellowed.

“I must excuse myself,” Anthony announced loudly for Lord Collins to turn around, it seemed Lord Collins only listened when it was another man speaking. “I need to disengage from this pleasant promenade.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Lord Collins, always a pleasure, I hope we can meet again soon, perchance at the ball this weekend, however I shall not retire without giving you fair advice over Lady Y/N, be careful, for her hand and heart always seem to belong to someone else,” he hissed. “Excuse me,” he then said softly and smiled at Lady Danbury cynically before storming off, leaving everyone in shock.

Benedict closed his eyes with strain as he was left with the two Featheringtons now at his care.

“I despise my brother,” he declared.

You only clenched your jaw, you agreed, you despised him, too.

next part

ext part (coming soon) feedback is appreciated!

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton ff #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton and you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton writing #sham and pain

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years

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prussia x reader: silly squabbles

Hello, lovelies~ I was plagued by images of this dumbass and his general ridiculousness, so of course I had to write it all out. This fic is pointless, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

"You are really annoying."

"And yet, somehow, I'm not detecting any real annoyance. Wonder why?"

His words hung lightly in the air, gentle and playful, just shy of taunting.

You did your best to ignore them, trying to focus on your book. But his fingers were moving again, trailing over your back in an inconsistent pattern, heavy enough a presence to register, yet just light enough to torment.

You were sure, in some long-winded, ridiculous, roundabout way, he would blame you for this predicament- for not reading as fast as him, for not paying him enough attention during a lazy day in.

Regardless, you tried to focus on the passage at hand, rereading the same paragraph for the tenth time now as he teased a particularly sensitive spot near your ribs.

He wasn't quite tickling you- not yet- but the shifting tempo and pressure all played upon the obvious threat.

Only mildly irritated- really, you were too familiar with his shenanigans by now to ever be truly annoyed- your focus landed on the bookcase, the only immediate target for your long-suffering gaze. "Do you mind?"

There was a hint of pride in his voice as he answered, a cockiness at successfully distracting you. "Nope!"

His fingers- now having tasked themselves with massaging more than teasing- paused between your shoulder blades. "Why? Do you?"

Rather than allow him another victory, you huffed quietly, pointedly making an effort to lose yourself once more in your book. "No... Not at all."

If he was amused by your answer practically being ground between your teeth, he made no indication of it. Instead, he resumed his massage, keeping his palm mostly flat against your spine, adopting a steady rhythm that lulled you into some semblance of security.

You allowed yourself to relax, turning your attention fully to your tale, praying he would at least let you finish this chapter in relative peace.

It was a hope to be short-lived alas, his posture shifting, bringing him near enough to read over your shoulder.

You were far too invested to truly pay him any mind, but then he was hovering near your temple, fingers drifting ever closer to your neck, once more dancing in that maddeningly light way which he employed solely in effort to agitate you.

You knew what he was doing, and you'd be damned if you'd let him win; summoning every ounce of self-restraint within you, you purposely, blatantly, chose to ignore him.

It took only a few moments for him to acknowledge your determination towards defiance (a few torturous moments where he had started tracing his nails against your hairline and whispered some of the passage aloud), his huff of displeasure bring you a small taste of sweet, sweet victory.

You would have been naive to think he had given up, knew it would be foolish to assume, to dare to presume, that he didn't already have other strategies in mind.

What you couldn't guess, regretfully, was exactly which plan he would attempt next.

When he sat upright once more, leaving you to lounge peacefully on your stomach, you unwisely surmised that he was actually finished with the whole affair, that he'd grown bored, that he would actually leave you to your novel in peace.

Feeling him shift back to the head of the bed, hearing him tapping away at his phone- these factors allied with his distance away from you all allayed your worries, letting you escape once more to the realm belonging to the pages before you.

The temporary tranquility was somehow less than simply fleeting; it had scarcely existed at all.

Not even five minutes had passed, and you felt teasing fingers once more, now grazing ever-so-softly against the bare skin of your ankle.

A jolt of panic fueled your reflexive movement away from him, your legs kicking, book falling to the floor in your surprise.

You shot upright and fixed him with a glare, hoping to convey just how furious you were with him. "I swear to God-!"

The villainous grin on his face revealed vanity in its purest form, and it did nothing to reduce your resentment.

Scowling now, and forcing yourself into an upright position, you narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you want, asshole?"

He was quiet for a moment, by all appearances still savoring his triumph. But then his smile shifted, the self-satisfied smirk falling slowly into something softer, fonder.

It took you by surprise, sent a stutter through your pulse, all irritation rapidly transitioning into confusion. "What?"

He shifted forward, leg bending beneath him as he drew closer.

Suspicious, but not too concerned, you offered an unimpressed expression, relaying your distrust. "Gil?"

There was a flicker to his smile, but it was soon replaced by something far more serious, his eyes languidly studying your features.

Briefly, more a passing fancy, you considered teasing him for his sudden quiet, yet there was something too tremulous tormenting him, and you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, instead offering your concern. “Teuton?”

Whatever spell that had held him within its grasp was finally dismissed, his head cocking to the side and a considering tone coating his next words. “You love me, right?”

It sounded innocent enough, and his behavior certainly suggested no ill-intent. But you knew him, and knew all-too-well not to fully believe in it. “Is that a trick question?”

You made sure to keep your words only just on the side of playful, but tempered with enough sincerity to assuage any possible self-doubts that may be afflicting him.

It was clearly the right approach, the left corner of his mouth only just hinting at a smile, a familiar spark almost tangible in the air. “It’s a simple question, Liebling. No need to sound so suspicious!”

You felt your eyes narrow as you studied him, his wording only heightening your wariness. “You know- The fact you feel you have to say so really isn’t winning you any points here.”

His grin was back at that, disorienting in its intensity, just enough that you nearly forgot his previous grimness. “I’m just asking if you love me, mein Schatz. ‘Snot like I’m asking you to sell me your immortal soul or something.”

You neglected to point out how those two things were near one and the same, instead choosing to offer a faux sincerity. “Oh no, you’re right. I hate you so much,” you quipped, each syllable oversaturated in sarcasm.

He scoffed, melodramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning down just long enough to rescue your book from the floor, marking your page and setting beside you on the comforter. “I’m sure your pride will be just fine."

“I dunno…” His words trailed off, and you could make out the distinct, irritating sound of him sucking on his teeth. “I think it may be mortal this time.”

You decided to play along, content to lose yourself in the absurdity. “Oh no,” came your reply, emotionless a tone as you could muster, in spite of the smile playing on your lips. “How could I possibly live with myself?”

He hummed, running a finger over his chin as if he were seriously considering it. “You’d probably take my fortune, settle somewhere warm.”

You fought a laugh, unsuccessfully. “Mm, definitely. Have sordid affairs with all the cabana boys and the waitresses.”

“Sing drunken renditions of Mamma Mia during karaoke night.”

“And I’ll adopt some ugly, exotic pet that I insist travels with me everywhere.”

“Only after your third husband disappears after mysterious circumstances, of course.”

He was only half-serious, and you couldn’t resist raising an eyebrow in mock offense. “Only three?”

Your question made him snicker, his eyes shining in amusement, but he didn’t continue the exchange.

Several moments passed, and with them the lingering ridiculousness of the “argument” faded away. There were many of these odd backs-and-forths, all somehow sillier than the last. The quiet was just as pleasant though, and you embraced the comfort it carried.

That was, until, he was biting his lip in thought, his amusement long abandoned.

Concerned, you shifted closer, studying his features carefully. "Gil?"

His eyes were glued to some distant place you couldn’t see, miles and centuries away from the here and now. “You do love me, right?”

“Of course,” you replied almost reflexively, still taken aback by the sudden shift back to solemnity.

“Really?” His eyes turned to yours once more, unguarded, open, a haunting fragility shining in them that made your heart clench inside your chest.

Wherever this insecurity came from, you wished you could rid him of it, tear all traces of it from his psyche, make it so he would never question his self-worth ever again.

As it was, you did what you could, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his ring, meeting his gaze as you lingered against the silver. “Would you be wearing this if I didn’t?”

There was a smile, the one you fell in love with: fond, slightly shy, just a little cocky. “Good point.”

You couldn’t help but feel as if something was still off about him however, something bothering him that you couldn’t even hope to guess. “Why do you ask, anyway?”

He took to studying your features again, his free hand rising to trace his fingers softly against your cheek. His eyes were warm and gentle, posture completely at ease. His words however-

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is real, or how lucky I am; some days I swear you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

His words carried an almost unbearable amount of loneliness, layered among disbelief and adoration. They triggered several different emotions within you, stirring them into a frenzied muss of affection and sadness, leaving you breathless.

Several potential reactions came to mind, but were all dismissed as you weighed his words, compared them to the relaxation of his shoulders, the familiarity as he languidly brushed his fingertips behind your ear, lightly teasing your scalp.

You could easily surrender to it, could already feel your own posture relaxing with each steady shift of his fingers. Still, you weren’t quite ready to abandon your prior playfulness, offering a haughty hum to prelude your reply.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m very real.” You felt a passing smirk flicker to life for a moment, blazing brightly before it was gone again, sober sincerity settling once more in its place. “You’re stuck with me, Beilschmidt. Forever…” you finished in an elongated stage whisper.

He breathed a laugh, the slightest hiss, his grin irrepressible now. His tone, however, mimicked nonchalance. “Eh. There are worse things, I guess.”

The tease was impossible to ignore, especially as that all-too-familiar deviousness was taunting in its own right.

You tried to keep your words accusatory, but they came out entirely too fond. “You’re a dick.”

He smirked, offering a half-hearted shrug.

“Guilty,” he sang, almost entirely too proud.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he was cradling both of your cheeks, and before you could guess at his next move, he was shifting forward, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I’m a dick who loves you very much.”

Thanks for reading!

#prussia x reader #readerfic #gilbert beilschmidt x reader #hello lovelies!#i'll add more tags later ugh #aph prussia #hws prussia #i hope y'all are well!#i've missed writing #i'm hoping i can get back to this one ancient artie request i received aeons ago #thanks for reading!#aph prussia x reader #hetalia prussia #hetalia prussia x reader #hws prussia x reader #gilbert beilschmidt

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certainstarlightqueen · 3 years

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Yeah, I'm still digesting the final episode of CritRole campaign 2, and as part of that process I made a final deep dive into my feelings about Essek and his crimes. After all, this is probably the last thing I'll ever write about this topic. If you're going to be upset by "Essek apologists" or whatever other derogatory term you prefer when dismissing other people's interpretations, stop reading here. You have been warned.

In my humble opinion, the Mighty Nein and the cast are very much overreacting when it comes to Essek's crimes... their hypocrisy when it comes to Essek is off the charts and has been ever since they learned about his actions. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, I get that Americans are a little obsessed with patriotism so maybe treason is a bigger deal to some of you than it would be for me. Feel free to call me an apologist, but hear me out:

The way I see it, Essek is guilty of 3 crimes (or 3 categories of crimes if you will):

1. Treason. Stealing the luxen, which indirectly started the war.

2. Betraying the mighty nein. Primarily by lying to them.

3. Actual war crimes. We know he was was involvert with torture and there has been hinted at some other misdeeds we don't know about.

Now how YOU judge these crimes based on your own hopefully law-abiding-citizen moral compass is one thing (and mostly irrelevant in this discussion) my argument is that the Mighty Nein should not be judging him as harshly as they do. Here's why:

1. Stealing the luxen was a crime against the Dynasty, but the Nein has no particular loyalty to the Dynasty nor it's religious practices. An act of treason against a nation they're not part of just simply shouldn't affect them as much as it seemingly does. A lot of the resentment towards Essek seem to be built on the idea that he "caused the war" which caused people to die, but imo that is an absurdly black and white way of looking at it. Was that guy who shot the Archduke and sparked World War I responsible for every life lost in that war? Of course not, the world was literally at the brink of war and it was only a matter of time until something pushed it over the edge. It has been stated time and time again in game that the Dynasty and Empire are at war with each other all the freaking time. That's why as soon as the luxen was stolen the Dynasty blame the Empire right away without any sort of proof. Wars do not start because one person does one thing, they start as a result of long running political schemes and clashing interests. Like I said, cultural factors may be at play here, but to me continously insisting that Essek must atone for every single life lost in the war "he started" is increadibly childish.

2. Ok, now this is the one that actually stands out as a good reason for the Nein to be upset because in this case they were directly and personally wronged. Building up trust with someone to the point where you consider them a friend only to realise that they lied and manipulated you is a legit issue and I totally get that they would be sceptical towards trusting Essek again after that. Although it should be mentioned that Essek, in his confession, specifically remarked on how he had already betrayed their trust before he met them. Like, he was already living on a lie when they became friends in the first place. Not to mention how he apologised profusely and never did something to slight the Nein ever again...

3. This one is, in my opinion, by far the most serious crime, but also one that the Nein have very little justification to resent Essek for without coming off as the biggest hypocrits on the planet. Now torture is horrific, there is no debate about that. Sooo....remember how Nott worked briefly as a torturers assistant? How Beau tortured that guard to death with acid? How the Nein themselves in the heat of (or aftermath of) battle have occasionally done things that would classify as either physical or psychological torture of people at their mercy? As far as we know these are the only true "war crimes" Essek has committed, and under orders from the Bright Queen nonetheless. Yet Essek is the only character ever addressed as a "war criminal". Honey, you're all war criminals by modern standards. Everyone you know who is even slightly involved with the war in this fantasy land is a war criminal. Including Astrid and Eadwulf, but no one ever told them to go give themselves up to the authorities to atone for their sins or whatever. Now not all of the Nein are at fault here, Jester, Caduceus, Yasha and Fjord all seem to realise that they are not in any position to judge and they tend to go easier on Essek. Meanwhile Beau, Caleb and especially Veth are so hypocritical it makes my skin crawl. Coincidentally these three are the ones who went full on murder hobo without a second thought just a few episodes ago. Veth was literally willing to do the exact same thing as Essek and risk another war for her own personal interests. It also doesn't help that Matt plays Essek as the most melodramatic f*cker ever, repeatedly declaring himself to be the worst person in existence and never ever standing up for himself. I'm sorry, but with the exception of Caduceus, the Mighty Nein and a good chunk of their allies are shady as all heck, and the way they, by the end, borderline suggested Essek turn himself in (likely to face execution) to "atone" when everyone else is walking away without a care in the world just comes off as tone deaf.

Feel free to disagree with me, but the aforementioned is one of the reasons I was disappointed by the conclusion of C2. I had hoped for some emotional growth from the Nein, but instead they kept the broken "war criminal" reccord going, even after Essek (as the only npc willing to do so) risked his life to help save the world. Honestly, at this point I kinda wish they would just stay away from heavy topics like this in C3.... if the cast wants to play a black and white game where the "bad man is evil and also bad" then that is their perogative, but it does make the characters come off as shallow and hypocritical. You can't first say "Yeah, the Gentleman partook in human trafficking in the past, but he's a cool dude. Total bro." And then turn around and be like "Yeah, Essek partook in torture in the past so he is an irredeemable criminal who has to work real hard if he ever wants to get close to being a good person!"

Anyways, this was all I had to say. I'm ready to move on from C2 despite the bad aftertaste.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk

#critical role #essek thelyss #mighty nein #criticalrole spoilers

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil... She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

#Anevka Sturmvoraus #Girl Genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Klaus Wulfenbach #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Othar Tryggvassen #Agatha Heterodyne #Otharnevka #GG OT3 #Phoenix Posts

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prince-of-elsinore · 3 years

Text

More reasons to enjoy Season 12

Part 2 to this post

These are just my (mostly) not too serious thoughts on things I enjoyed about season 12 (which believe me, I do have criticism of, but not for this post) now that I have finished my re-watch of it.

- they unfridged the original fridged woman. bold move, good course correction

- Mick as a foil to Sam, Ketch as a foil to Dean. That's all.

- it's goddamn refreshing to have Sam and Dean on the same page most of the time! Like in 12x15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, Sam has been keeping the secret that he's working with the BMOL. But the secret only lasts one episode, and when Sam realizes he needs to come clean, Dean doesn't blow up at him. Sam being honest and Dean being accepting of Sam's decision: both evidence of growth! And in 15x20 The Future, they're on the same page about not wanting to let Cass go with Kelly. They both think he's been brainwashed (b/c that is definitely what it looks like). I just like seeing them agree on stuff, ok?

- Sam embracing his life and feeling comfortable with himself!! I see this season as a turning point, especially for Sam. I don't believe he's simply been brow-beaten into accepting a life he hates; I think he's consciously choosing to embrace the good of what he does and to take pride in it. His relationship with hunting will never be the same as Dean's, but, like I said: they're on the same page. As he tells Mary in 12x14 The Raid--"I chose this life." This is mostly due to choosing Dean, more than choosing hunting, but in any case, it is a conscious choice and Sam is making the one that is worth it to him, the choice that brings him fulfillment. And he even sees new worth in hunting itself, in a way that is very much in line with his character, as he expresses in 12x18 The Memory Remains (which I talk about more here).

- and that newfound confidence and comfort with who he is allows Sam to take a huge step in 12x22 Who We Are. I was so proud of him when he says "I called you here" instead of "We called you here." Sam has always had an independent streak, and he's stepping out from Dean's shadow in a healthy way here. He's allowing himself to be an individual agent. I always felt that in the end, he needed something of his own to be fulfilled, more than hunting with Dean--either a mentorship or leadership position (both of which he gets in the late seasons). This is his first step towards that, and he's so capable of it! He is a badass and he leads the hunters to victory over the BMOL on his own.

- and Dean lets him!! This is a huge step for Dean too! Of course he's still worried about Sam (the "you come back" gets me every time), but he's not insisting on being there to protect him. He believes in Sam. He tells Sam he's ready for this, and when Sam hears it from Dean, he knows it's true. They need each other, but here we're seeing need of a healthier type--the way no one is an island, and we all need the love and support of our friends/family. They offer each other that, and it gives them the strength they need. I was so proud of Dean in that moment.

- ALSO so proud of Dean for, for once, acknowledging his own needs. Trying to save Mary is the right task for Dean--he'll never give up on family. But in the process, he speaks some truths that needed speaking. Admitting that he was set up to fail in raising Sam, that his whole life has been so unfair. Letting himself feel resentment towards the family whose hold is so tight on him. But, at the end of the day, still choosing love. "I hate you. And I love you. 'Cause I can't – I can't help it. You're my Mom. And I understand... 'cause I have made deals to save the ones I love more than once." Dean understands better than anyone that sometimes love causes harm, but it's still love and who can blame a person who acts out of love? And the thing is, love can also redeem. And here, Mary and Dean, both of whom have made some terrible choices in the name of love, find their way back to each other through love. Dean gives Mary the forgiveness he seeks for himself. This is Dean at his best.

- and even Sam gets in on the action. He, too, chooses love, and forgiveness. The family hug at the end of Who We Are is EVERYTHING.

- ok Who We Are isn't the only good episode so I'm gonna backtrack to talk about some others, like 12x11 Regarding Dean--it's funny! It's sad! Carrying on a great spn tradition of episodes like Mystery Spot and Yellow Fever. The sticky notes are wonderful. Sam knowing Dean well enough to leave them in the trunk of the Impala, with a big "NO" over the grenade launcher. Dean holding up "Witch Killing Bullets" without saying a word. Pointing his gun in confusion at Sam, who yells and points, "Brother! Witch!" :)

- 12x12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)—who doesn’t love a Tarantino tribute? (Having just watched Kill Bill, I can certainly say I love it). And the return of the Colt! Crowley's "It’s amazing what some people just leave laying about." Snark king.

- 12x13 Family Feud—I want to write a longer meta about the theme of family and love and sacrifice in this episode, so I won't go into it here. But another nice thing is how united the brothers are in their anger when Mary reveals she's been working with the BMOL. It's the closest we get to addressing Sam's torture and violation at the beginning of the season. I get the feeling Dean isn't so angry b/c of what Lady Bevell did to him, but b/c of what she did to Sam, which makes me think he knows it was bad, and Dean supported Sam in whatever he needed after that, whether it was talking about it or just giving some space, etc. Love some defensive big brother Dean.

- 12x14 The Raid—Actually a pretty tense action episode. And Mick is cool.

- 12x16 Ladies Drink Free—The Mick team-up is fun (I like changing up the dynamics), as is seeing them stay in a 3 star hotel lol. Dean has some good moments that highlight his growth, too. His "I used to think the same thing, too" to Mick, as if it weren't already obvious that he's taken "saving people" more to heart than "hunting things." He's done a lot of work to evolve beyond who he was with the Mark of Cain and even before. He also makes it perfectly clear what he thinks of guys skeeving on underage girls, and it's nice the writers finally emphasize that Dean does not like that behavior. He's past the point in his life where he'd make a joke about cheerleaders being legal (back in season 4. Quick digression: that's definitely a gross thing to say, but I always saw it as performative more than a declaration of intent. He puts on what he thinks macho guys would say. Not that Dean doesn't oggle what he likes, but one thing has always been very clear to me about Dean--he's a fan of enthusiastic consent. Anyway this should probably be a longer post b/c I could talk about Dean and performative masculinity and sexual attraction ad nauseam so I'll leave it there)

- 12x18 The Memory Remains—I've already gone over in my previous meta what this ep says about legacy, but there are other fun things about it. Like a Goat-headed monster! Man, how long has it been since the bros took on an urban legend like this? Like... any since freakin' Bloody Mary? Also Dean being cool with the kid smoking weed. You just know he likes to light up sometimes. Man, I need more weed-smoking Dean in my life

- 12x20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes--this is a good fuckin ep. Finally, someone else on this goddamn show is allowed to be as codependent and unwise as Sam and Dean, and isn't punished for it. Let Max keep his wood-puppet sister! (Wow I KNOW it's really fucked up b/c I guess he can control her, too, but damn if it isn't fascinating. And sad. I hope they figure out some way to restore her autonomy) I stan two (2) codependent witch twins

- 12x21 Something About Mary--I'm a sucker for the silent communication and flawless telepathy as Sam and Dean find the bug and lay the trap for the BMOL. And that letter from Eileen :C (Even if her thing with Sam leaves me cold, I'm glad she got to come back to life b/c she sure didn't deserve to go like that)

- Ok one more thing about Who We Are--I'm a sucker for the angst of them thinking they're gonna die trapped in the bunker. And then Dean comes through with the grenade launcher, AND gets out the hole before it caves in. BAMF. I love that they saved themselves rather than some deus ex machina. No Supernatural interference necessary. Not even any deals with reapers, etc.

- I lied, one MORE thing about Who We Are--Sam doesn't take the bad deal Hess offers him (to help with Lucifer)! Once upon a time, I believe that Sam would have been so scared that he'd take the deal with the snake, masking his fear and foolishness as pragmatism. But he knows his own worth now. He knows he doesn't need the BMOL, terrified as he is.

- Finally, it was sad to say goodbye to Crowley in the finale, but it was a worthy end. You'll be missed, Fergus MacLeod.

#spn meta #spn season 12 #my meta #spn

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mc-critical · 3 years

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Glad to see you’re back to taking asks!❤️ I hope all is well for you!

A bit of a simpler one this time around, I felt like Gülfem closer to the end of season 4 started to come off a bit..ingenuine to me? If that’s the right word? I mean she spent previous seasons partaking in plots against Hürrem and what seemed like hating her or at the very least expressing open disapproval of her actions and what she stood for to..consoling Hürrem’s restless conscience after Hürrem was diagnosed with a terminal illness? I just remember her saying things like she should be proud of the life she lived, that she wasn’t a bad person, that she shouldn’t think of her illness as a punishment etc etc. I suppose we could give Gülfem the benefit of the doubt and say that she saw no point in openly opposing Hürrem anymore (like Fatma or Mahidevran felt towards the end) but why not just leave the palace as they did? Perhaps they kept her around for the sake of the story but I feel like they didn’t do much with her arc past that point, they just did a time jump then revealed to us in a flashback she died? I think I’m just more confused than anything. Why not keep Gülfem’s feelings towards Hürrem at least somewhat consistent like Mahi/Fatma?

I'm fine, thank you! ❤❤ I closed my ask box mostly due to school work, the end of the year exams can be intense heh

I definetly get your sentiments since that sure seems to be an inconsistency to Gülfem's character at first glance. It may indeed turn out as a contrast to the remainder of what we have seen.

It isn't such a big problem for me, however, because we have to take two things into consideration:

Gülfem's stance of Hürrem plays a part in reflecting the tone of the final episodes of S04. The whole last chunk of the show before Hürrem's death did its best in recognizing her alleged legacy in ways it hadn't before. It suddenly began acknowledging her power, showing SS prove considerably more affection than ever before (that makes the most narrative sense out of everything, but still), folk praising her for the first time ever and most notably, various characters in the show, with positive, ambiguous and negative relationship with her alike, either praising her or consoling her. Gülfem is one of the more neutral characters in the castle and the most nurturing one, the one most able to empathize and console. It is only fitting to give her such a role to fit the message the writers want to deliver. Acknowledging Hürrem's legacy just now and like this is truly as much of a copout as it is fanservice, but at least it's not completely out of nowhere (especially the acknowledgment of her fondations) and they do give us some consistency with what Gülfem does along with everyone else in this whole ordeal.

S04 extends on Gülfem's role as a conscience character-wise, besides utilizing it in favor of the narrative voice. In these last episodes in particular, she seems to be the conscience of everyone in the castle, given her nature and that she's the last person left there who could do that. That includes Süleiman, as well as it includes Hürrem.

These things aren't presented in the best way, writing-wise, and could be sometimes more subtle than necessary. Gülfem herself could be a little underdeveloped as a character and has comparatively lesser screentime than the rest of the main and secondary cast. Her conscience is her clear role in the narrative, but her relationships, with the exception of Hatice (and the other sisters of SS to an extent), aren't as well defined. Look at her relationship with Mahidevran, for example: we got hints of their supposed past rivalry, we got hints of resentment, but these hints only turned into an inconsistent mess. There were much more scenes where they were in good terms with each other and anything else was so few and far in between, it only appeared to be a contrast. We got no true perspective of their past in Manisa and Gülfem's more personal opinion on Mahidevran, leaving it only as a static, but pretty good relationship. (which is why I'm grateful that S03 removed this set-up of their relationship, rendering it still not that well fleshed out, but more consistent.)

In a similar fashion, we never got a proper exploration of how exactly she felt about Hürrem, too. What I think I can say with confidence though is that certainly didn't hate her - Gülfem is a very patient and just woman, which I can only admire her for. She is a voice of reason, trying her best to be unbiased in her outlooks and stand for what is right. She has happened to knock Hürrem down a peg, but not because she disliked her, but because she thought she was crossing the line or offending the people she cares about. The closest we got to a look into a tiny resentment of Gülfem's of Hürrem was when Hürrem used her to make Mahidevran lose her rulership of the harem. It's normal that Gülfem would harbor such feelings, knowing that she didn't do anything to Hürrem before that and only supported her about Mahidevran wanting Valide's chambers. Being used in an intrigue like that clearly hurt her and her willing to stand even more against Hürrem was hinted at a little, but once again, that was a very short conflict. It would be a decent transition if the writers wanted that for Gülfem, but they didn't. It would run against Gülfem's forgiving nature at this point to hate Hürrem. Gülfem just is notorious in putting the past behind her. {hence on a thematic note, her backstory and origins not only didn't get revealed to us except for a few scenes, similarly to Mahidevran (Mahidevran got flashbacks, at least), but she, in contrast to both Mahidevran and Hürrem, has already adapted to her present, knowing that she cannot bring back what she has lost. And her adaption has already happened, it's not made out to be a character arc within the series.} Her feelings for Hürrem aren't kept consistent, because there isn't much to be kept consistent. Mahidevran and Fatma both have pivotal dynamics with Hürrem that play a major role in the narrative as they both play a more major part of the story. Gülfem and Hürrem's relationship as a whole seemed to have both its good and bad moments (as Hürrem herself recalled in E133) and the good moments were usually when both consoled someone and Gülfem consoling Hürrem now doesn't seem this strange anymore.

Gülfem also seems to put her own feelings behind her in favor of those of the others, probably in result of her huge loss. She always comforts the others, is there for them and shows her moral support. She seems to identify herself in their own struggles. That, I feel, gives her the ability to sympathize even with those she presumably doesn't like, because she's very open and honest overall. I don't think it's ingenuine, because Gülfem never showed signs of hypocrisy. Not to mention that every hypocrisy there is in the franchise, we know of: either through previously fully established dynamics, direction or character motive. (or at least that's a pattern I have noticed) I don't think they would put Gülfem, out of everyone, in such position. This consolation of Hürrem may have been moulded a bit, but it's certainly not ingenuine and runs in line with who she is. Besides, she did say she forgives Hürrem for every possible offense in E133. I think that clears the whole thing up.

I wouldn't say that Gülfem had no arc at all in S04, as well. [I wouldn't see them leaving her just for the story, either, because aside from E59-63, Gülfem usually didn't move the story in any significant way. They probably left her because she was the moral compass of the palace and she was one of the first characters after all, for her to stay as much as she can.] She doesn't have too much in the way of development or arc in the rest of the show, probably because she didn't have much to develop on her own and the writers didn't want to really flesh her out. The only thing she could develop is her relationships and most of them also didn't leave room for development (not even Hürrem, because she didn't do that much against her, except for the S02 finale, correct me if I'm wrong?), except for one: her relationship with Süleiman. Gülfem wants to preserve justice and Süleiman began to act completely counter of that. It's not a built-up arc, but it's only by S04 where SS's shadiest actions began to reach their peak, so only then would it begin to happen. Because she valued Süleiman before then.

She valued him to the point she dismissed his faults in the strife between his women and asked him the comfort question of whether he is happy with them when he called her to talk in E15. Their joint scenes had their continuation only by S04 where she similarly acted as his conscience after Hürrem's death. For she was the one close enough to him for him to confide in. Many people confided in Gülfem through the series, but Süleiman is one of the people that did it the most and it was as if this consoling went beyond the sheer usual support for her.

And what happens afterwards? The table begins to turn after Bayezid's execution. That angle is looked upon only after the time skip and during the flashback in E139, but it shows by its own merit alone a change, an evolution of Gülfem's opinion of SS and a reverse approach of her role as a conscience: Gülfem is so patient and understanding, but she has finally snapped. She has finally met her limit. In her words to SS in the scene we see how his actions have put themselves in a conflict far beyond what she can bear. She can no longer excuse him, she can no longer justify him.

That scene showed us her realization that he has the biggest part of the blame in the misfortunes in the palace. ("Even leaf cannot fall without your approval!") And she wanted to end him for that. I know it looks like this happened almost overnight, maybe looked a little too edgy and may feel like a contrived attempt to make an exit for her character, but it works well enough with me. Because after all, she has truly went through a lot and that suffering didn't even begin from Topkapı. It's only natural she would try to kill the root of the suffering for good. And here, for once, she stands up for herself, too, along with calling out all the unfortunate and devastating events.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #gulfem hatun #hurrem sultan #sultan suleiman #ask #stuffandthangs

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abyssal-memories-and-dreams · 4 years

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I just had a crazy idea - how about a scenario/imagine where fem reader is a first year Pomefiore and fangirls over Vil like Sebek does with Malleus and one day they're having a heated argument over who is cooler Malleus or Vil and end up making out in the end

Hi, Luv! Thank you so much for the request! I hope that you don’t mind that this turned out to be more of a one-shot than a scenario - I had so many ideas to write for this that I thought I couldn’t do it justice as a scenario. Still, I hope you enjoy, Anon!

~Agree to Disagree~ Sebek Zigvolt x Fem! (S/O)

“Young Master could surpass Vil Schoenheit in any way anytime he wants to!”

“Please, I’ll know that when I see it... or him, anyhow...”

(S/O) scoffed in her seat at Sebek’s declaration, watching as his face soured into an even deeper frown. Neither knew how long this rivalry had been going on, and quite frankly, they didn’t care. They were both first-year students at Night Raven College with a passion for those they cared about. The only problem? They constantly bashed each other because of who they devoted themselves too.

While Sebek would die to protect Malleus’s life, (S/O) had other priorities being a Pomfiore student. She absolutely adored your dorm leader Vil Schoenheit, from his makeup to his skincare routine to his influence on Magicam. In her eyes, he was an absolute God among men. However, Sebek didn’t share that same sentiment with (S/O), often finding reasons why Malleus was superior to Vil in any way.

No matter the circumstance, the two always bickered about who was better, much to the dismay of everyone around you. It would happen everywhere - in class, in the hallway, during lunch, etc. If one person brought it up, then almost certainly the other would follow with an opposing remark. It was really... really... really draining upon those around them, and this time was no exception.

“Can you please shut up?” Silver groaned, groggily moving up from his spot at the doorframe. Classes had ended for the day, and most of the students already left the room. He was waiting for his underclassmen at the door, only to be met by the sight of your bickering. Again. “You guys are disturbing everyone’s peace and quiet.”

“I will only stop when she admits that Vil Schoenheit could only compare himself to Young Master,” Sebek said, pointing to (S/O). In return, the girl scoffed at him.

“Oh, will you stop acting like a child? Yes, your “young master” is one of the most powerful wizards in all of Twisted Wonderland, but what’s great power without any motivation to flaunt it off once in a while? At least Vil is more social with the following he has... if he even has any,” (S/O) crossed her arms, smirking before Sebek slammed his hands on her desk.

“How dare you insult the Young Master! He doesn’t need a following to be better than some model!” Sebek fumed, his face moving closer to (S/O)’s. She leaned back, uncomfortable with the lack of personal space. “As dorm leader, he has helped make Diasomnia the powerful force that it is today! Tell, me, how many times has Pomfiore made it to the top in the Magift tournament since Vil arrived? How long would it take until Pomfiore is at the top of Night Raven College’s academic standings? You claim that Vil Schoenheit is far superior, but all I see is someone’s pride getting the better of them and her not wanting to admit -”

(S/O) slammed her hands on the desk, suddenly standing up and causing Sebek to move back in shock. Her face scowled in anger as she stared into his green eyes.

“That’s exactly my problem with Malleus - it seems his only good trait is his capabilities as a wizard! Ever since coming here, I’ve only heard other students say how intimidated they are of him! If he really is as “great” as you say, then how come no one seems to invite him to anything if not because they’re scared of him? Vil might not have the same magical prowess as your master, but at least he worked his way to where he was. You just seem to pamper him to a point where it’s suffocating for him.”

Sebek was taken aback as she continued to stare, expecting another comeback. But despite the arrogance in (S/O)’s voice, doubt started to plague his mind for a moment. Was what she was saying true? And if so, then... could he possibly be to blame for his behavior? Or were you just saying this to get on your nerves? If so, then it was working. Too well, probably, as he failed to notice someone walking up to them from behind.

“I-” He tried to respond, but was taken out of breath as he felt someone push him from behind. At that moment, everything seemed to happen in a flash before Sebek knew what he was doing.

It wasn’t until a moment’s notice for which he realized the predicament he was in - leaning in beyond the desk, gripping onto (S/O)’s shoulders, his lips locked onto hers. Both froze at the sudden contact, their minds blank of thought. Neither knew how this was even possible, yet neither complained - or, rather, they were so confused that it seemed neither remembered how to complain.

It wasn’t until a second later that both pulled away from each other, their cheeks completely flushed a reddish-pink as they stared at each other confused. “Wh-What the...” (S/O) stuttered out, taken back the most by the aggressive action. She could not deny that Sebek was a very handsome man, but the kiss nonetheless left her in shock and, quite frankly, angry. She raised her hand, ready to slap him when she noticed that he had a very similar expression, as if he didn’t know what he did either.

Sebek turned back to see Silver standing in the doorway still, a look of surprise dawning his face. Trying to draw conclusions, Sebek’s face flared in anger, wanting to absolutely murder the one who pushed him. And in this case, he was able to deduct his conclusion quickly.

“You-” Sebek’s voice was dripping with venom, but he was cut off very quickly.

“That wasn’t me,” Silver quipped. “It was the old man.”

Sebek looked at Silver confusingly, taking a moment to try and understand who he meant. Before he could, though, (S/O) let out a small yelp as she looked up, causing Sebek to turn around follow her gaze. What he saw surprised him, as he failed to realize his superior up on the ceiling, smiling down upon them.

“Aw, it appears I’ve been caught,” Lilia said, faking a disappointed tone in his voice. “And here I thought I could help you get along...”

Sebek glared at Lilia, mentally cursing him for this act. He clenched his fists. “Lilia...”

“What the hell!?” (S/O) blurted out, her shock now replaced with resentment. After all, how dare this man force her to kiss a fellow student while they argued?

“Well, I saw how fervent you were in your heated discussion as I walked by. You two have a lot more in common than you think,” Lilia said. “I wasn’t trying to force you two into what you did, and I do apologize that it happened as is. It just pains me to see one of my underclassmen arguing with someone who was just as passionate about their dorm leader as he was. Can’t we all agree that both Vil and Malleus are great dorm leaders in their own ways?”

Sebek faced Lilia, ready to scold him, but then turned to (S/O) as he processed his words in his head. He can agree that (S/O) was indeed very passionate about Vil Schoenheit, and he respected how she was able to defend him to the bitter end. Much like himself, she was loyal to Vil as he was to Malleus, and likewise felt a physical attraction to her that she had towards him.

As he calmed down, Sebek awkwardly coughed, causing (S/O) to face him. “I suppose that we can agree to disagree,” Sebek said, causing her to tilt her head in confusion. “The fact is that we both care for our dorm leaders dearly, and that we are determined to keep their name in good faith. While I still do not agree on your statements towards the Young Master, our bickering isn’t helping anyone in the long run. I sincerely apologize for my behavior earlier, but I hope that we can still prosper as students in this academy. Can you still forgive me?” He asked, putting all of his sincerity into his voice as he raised his hand for a handshake

(S/O) was surprised by this. Not just because of his calm demeanor throughout his statement, but the way that he was able to admit that he was wrong. Throughout their rivalry, not once did either of them back down from their heated debates. It made her feel guilty after hearing his statement, remembering times where she would sometimes start the argument. (S/O) sighs, taking his hand in hers, a slight blush heating her face as she shook it.

“I guess I can forgive you for now. Despite my likewise attitudes towards your beliefs, I do appreciate that you are willing to set our harsh differences aside for the better of everyone. Because of this, I also apologize for my own brash and inelegant behavior, and I still hope that we can both continue to agree to disagree in the future.”

Sebek smiled as he let go of her hand, the first gentle emotion he was able to show since this argument. “I’m glad that we can both come to this conclusion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I - huh?” He turned around, expecting to see either Lilia or Silver watching them, but both had vanished from the classroom.

Silver and Lilia wandered the hallways, traveling to their club activities. Upon further notice, Silver was eyeing Lilia with a questioning look on his face before speaking up.

“Tell me something,” he said.

“Hm?” Lilia hummed.

“How much of what you said was true? About them wanting to get along, and how much more they have in common than they think.”

Lilia looked at Silver, his face forming into one of intrigue with his lips curled into a smirk.“You ask that like I was lying about the entire thing. Such a cruel thing to accuse someone of, Silver,” he said. Silver knew something was up, but kept quiet about it. For Lilia was indeed mostly telling the truth, and did appreciate his underclassmen faring well with each other.

It’s too bad that Silver never got Lilia to admit that he intentionally got those two to kiss each other on purpose. Not that he cared much, anyway.

#twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland request #twisted wonderland sebek #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader #lilia vanrouge #silver #twst silver

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hobbitkiller · 4 years

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She-Ra, Supergirl, and Tangled: A Tale of Three Female Relationships: Part 3

*SPOILER WARNING FOR SHE-RA, SUPERGIRL, AND TANGLED: THE SERIES*

Previously on “A Tale of Three Female Relationships” AKA HobbitKiller clearly misses grad school but not enough to find secondary sources for a multi-part tublr. post (or thoroughly proofread):

In Part 2, I discussed the impact narcissistic mother figures, resentment for chosen ones, and repressing emotions has had on three female relationships in three different series: Adora and Catra from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Lena and Kara from Supergirl, and Rapunzel and Cassandra from Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure.

These posts are a deep dive into where these relationships went wrong and will eventually culminate in a discussion of what these relationships say about the portrayal of female characters and female relationships in media.

For today’s installment, I will be covering two subjects: Blond Bulldozers and I Don’t Care (I Ship It). WARNING: This one gets reallllllly long. Like, possibly multiple sittings.

PART VI: BLOND BULLDOZERS

In my first post in this series, I jokingly mentioned that one half in all three of these relationships is a superpowered blonde who saves the world.

There are of course many implications in the fact that, though all three of these shows strive for increased diversity compared to their source material (It is also interesting that these are all shows based on pre-existing franchises), the main character continues to be a fair-skinned blond woman.

That’s mostly a matter to be discussed another day, but I do find it interesting that all of these relationships feature one blond and one not-blond. Lena and Cassandra have black hair, and Catra is...well...a cat-person. Beyond that, the blond is not only the hero, but is typically depicted as morally superior and more righteous. Kara, AKA Supergirl, was literally declared the “Paragon of Hope” in the latest CW crossover, Crisis on Infinite Earths. That title could just as easily have gone to Rapunzel whose chief characteristics are her optimism, desire to see others achieve their dreams, and belief that everyone gets a second chance no matter their criminal past and exploits (seriously, everyone in Corona--the name of the kingdom unfortunately for right now--gets one total pardon as long as they’re sorry even if the tried to kill multiple people). Adora is a little less cotton-candy that Kara or Rapunzel. She has the same moral righteousness, but actually has more of an edge to her than many of her friends due to her upbringing as a child soldier. Still, all three blondes are meant, for the most part, to be the moral center of their shows.

But, the thing is, when I look at these relationships, I can’t help but think of another popular blonde/not blonde friendship that went wrong:

Ahhh, Wicked, the prototypical female friendship story for so many of us. Wicked aims to take this classic dynamic of the morally pure blond protagonist and their dark-haired frienemy and turn it a bit on its head. Throughout the musical, Glinda is treated as pure, superior, and good because she is flattering and pretty. In reality, Glinda is often selfish and lacks the courage to stand up to people and systems she believes are wrong. Elphaba, on the other hand, is treated like an outcast because of her green skin and social awkwardness. Yet, for most of the musical, she is the one with the moral righteousness. She is labeled “wicked” by those in power for challenging them and standing up to them.

We’ll discuss Wicked more in the finale of this multi-part post.

For now, I’d like to contrast that relationship to the three being analyzed right now. None of these three shows goes as far as Wicked did to undermine this trope of the perfect blond versus the darker brunette. This makes sense as none of the three properties is seeking to deconstruct their source material or turn it on its head in the way Wicked aims to do so for the Wizard of Oz (the movie more than anything else). They seek to update and diversify certain aspects to be sure (someone heard loud and clear the criticism that there are no people of color in Tangled), but not to challenge them.

That being said, each show does try to layer in flaws in their blond protagonists approach to relationships. These flaws tend to be more subtle than those of the people around them, perhaps to protect said blondes from becoming too unlikeable, but they are clearly there.

In the last post, I talked a lot about the resentment of the non-blondes in these relationships and how that helped lead to the relationships falling apart. Those characters are also much more the aggressors in said relationships and are much more set on taking down the other party.

However, the blondes in each relationship are not without blame for it falling apart.

In the previous post, I discussed how being friends of a so-called “chosen one” or “golden child” can breed resentment. I also mentioned that raising someone as a “golden child” is its own form of abuse. It creates a level of unrealistic expectations to always be perfect and responsible. It can be the same for a “chosen one.”

Adora, Kara, and Rapunzel all feel a tremendous amount of responsibility as the “saviors” of their respective worlds. This manifests itself in a need to constantly “fix” everyone else’s problems. Adora frequently describes her need to fix whatever goes wrong in the Rebellion. Kara feels it’s her job to fix things so much that she contacted her former boss’s estranged son behind her back to try to reconnect them. Rapunzel frequently becomes involved in the personal lives of her friends for the sake of fixing their problems.

To an extent, this is a good quality. All three of our blond saviors have good hearts and don’t want to see anyone else suffer, partially because all of them have suffered their own childhood traumas from being raised as a child soldier to witnessing one’s entire planet and species destroyed to being held prisoner for 18 years.

However, as the title of this section suggests, all three of these characters tend to take a bulldozer approach to their involvement with their loved ones’ lives. This creates tension in many of their relationships, not just those discussed in these posts. Adora’s attempts to help her friend Glimmer after Glimmer becomes queen come off as controlling and as though Adora doesn’t respect Glimmer’s position of authority. Kara, in addition to the incident with her boss’s son, had also tried to control the life of another alien (and eventual boyfriend), Mon El as well as did things like break into her sister’s apartment when she was sad. Rapunzel promises to fix everyone’s problems, which leads to friends feeling betrayed when she can’t follow through. She also frequently intrudes in Cassandra’s life and plans.

One of the most threatening things for people like Catra, Lena, or Cassandra is to feel as though they do not have control over their lives. When you already have trust issues, feeling like someone else is trying to control you can feel like you’re being trapped. Control is particularly important to Lena. In many ways, she has the same feelings of responsibility as Kara. Like Kara, Lena, having been raised by one of the most powerful and influential families on the planet, feels a sense of responsibility to be a world leader. She feels that even more keenly in light of the villainous actions of her mother and brother--that she has to restore honor to the family name. As discussed in the previous post, this feeling in Lena manifests itself in her actions towards her friends through buying them things or trying to solve problems for them such as buying Kara’s and James’s place of work, Catco, to save it from being purchased by a scumbag.

This need to take back control of her life and legacy, to me, is why Lena reacts so drastically to discovering that Kara is Supergirl. Being mad at Kara for keeping secrets is, frankly, hypocritical on several counts. Not only does Lena keep many, many secrets from Kara throughout the show, but she is also fine with the fact that Alex, Kara’s sister, never told Lena explicitly that she was an agent of the Department of Extranormal Operations (DEO). Of course, the reason why Lena wasn’t mad at Alex is because Lena had already known who Alex was, thus giving her power and control in that relationship. Finding out that her friend had successfully hidden her identity for years and had been influencing events without Lena’s knowledge took away the control Lena felt she had over that relationship.

Cassandra also feels a keen lack of control over her life and her relationship with Rapunzel due to the fact that Rapunzel is both her monarch and direct employer. Cassandra serves Rapunzel and that is the first avenue through which they formed a relationship. Early in their relationship, Cassandra resented Rapunzel’s attempts to become friends and said the chance of a Lady in Waiting and a princess becoming friends was a million to one. Rapunzel, by nature of being “irrepressible” (as her friends call her), manages to worm her way into Cassandra’s heart to the point that Cassandra almost forgets that she and Rapunzel are not equals.

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What I find interesting about both Cassandra and Lena is that they both, in some ways, considered themselves the protectors of their naive blond friends. While it’s true that Cassandra always knew her station was below Rapunzel, part of her job early on was teaching Rapunzel how to be a member of the court--what to do, when to curtsy, who was who, etc. In fact, Rapunzel had so little exposure to the outside world, Cass was partly responsibly for teaching her how to interact socially in general. There’s also the added factor that Cassandra is 4 years older than Rapunzel, which can seem like a lot at their ages. Lena, as previously discussed, saw herself as a major figure in shaping the future of the world. She went out of her way to help Kara by buying Catco and tried to protect Kara if they were ever in physical danger together.

Both of these characters suffered from an abrupt challenge to the relationship roles they previously thought they had. Cassandra in this scene and Lena when Lex tells her that Kara is Supergirl.

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It’s interesting that, in that scene, Lex emphasizes the idea that Lena has been a fool. (And, fair enough, I’m pretty sure everyone who’s ever watched the show found it hard to believe that Lena never once realized her best friend was Supergirl. I mean...really, glasses?) But this idea, that she had been a fool plays right into Lena’s fear of losing control. It’s the idea that someone else was pulling strings while she was oblivious that taps right into her deepest insecurities.

Catra’s issues with feeling controlled by Adora are mostly revealed in the episode discussed last post called “Promise.” They come up again in the third season finale when Adora tries to convince Catra to come with her and leave a world that is crumbling out of existence and Catra declares that she will never go with Adora, and that she won’t “let you win” and “would rather see the whole world end (which it’s doing BTW) than let that happen.” Catra believes the way to get control back from Adora is to “win” at any cost.

In the end, this idea of “winning” becomes part of all three relationships. It’s no longer about working together or “us against the world” for the not-blondes who have felt crushed under the weight of their friends. Now it’s about achieving their goals in spite of the collateral damage.

And the most frustrating part is that the blondes are largely oblivious to the fact that they make their friends feel this way or that they are overstepping boundaries. They just think they’re doing the right thing because they’re “taking care of” or “fixing” the problem. They’re so concerned with taking care of or protecting their friends, that they don’t realize how patronizing and condescending that can feel.

So, even as these relationship turn so sour, why are so many people not only rooting for the friendship to return, but for our ladies to go the next level beyond?

PART VII: I DON’T CARE (I SHIP IT)

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I sometimes wonder how the greatest point of contention, the biggest source of toxicity, and the most exhausting part of fandom became shipping. I have seen more nastiness among fans and toward creators and actors about shipping than just about anything else.

Shipping has a long history in fandom, though that term is relatively recent. People have been writing fan fiction about Kirk and Spock getting together since the show was on and fan fiction was written and shared at either in-person gatherings or through semi-underground fanzines.

And, trust me, I’ve been in the trenches of a ship war. Back when Avatar: The Last Airbender was airing, I was a hardcore Zutara shipper. And, to be more honest, it made me a jerk. Part of that is just because I was a teenager at the time, and teenagers don’t always realize the potential impacts of their actions due to brain chemistry etc, etc. But still, the intensity with which I argued that my ship either would or should become canon when the creators of the show clearly preferred the other relationship embarrasses me when I look back at it.

These days, fandom shipping has gotten even more complicated and contentious.

Back when those women (and it was mostly women) were typing their Kirk/Spock fan fiction and mailing it to other fans, they knew Kirk and Spock would never actually get together on the show. That was the case for the majority of fandoms until very recently--that there was no expectations of actual canon lgbtq representation. People could claim there was deliberate subtext or coding, but very few, if any people, expected shows to actually have openly lgbtq characters.

Then, it started to actually happen. Not just in a, “the actor said they saw their character as gay” or “the creators said they coded that character as gay” way. Characters actually started being lgbt on screen in ways that weren’t demeaning or stereotypes. Major characters, too.

For me, a big moment that gave rise to the hopes of many that their lgbt ships might actually have a shot at being confirmed as canon was, funnily enough, the sequel show to Avatar: TLA, The Legend of Korra.

The above was the closest the couple got to an on-screen intimate moment, and some fans didn’t believe it was romantic until it was later confirmed by the show creators. Nickelodeon was only willing to go so far, after all. The followup comics, however, are much more explicit with the relationship and the two share multiple kisses and intimate moments.

Many fans argue that Korrasami (as the ship between Korra and Asami is called) was too subtle to be considered real representation. But a wave could certainly be felt throughout the world of animation afterword. Shows became even more bold about confirming lgbt characters or at least became less subtle in their coding.

And suddenly, the idea that a main character’s finale pairing might be anything other than straight became a real possibility and, in some cases, an expectation.

In addition to the growing visibility of lgbt relationships in media, another change was slowly taking place within fandom.

For much of modern fandom, the most popular ships have been male/male (mlm). Back when I was getting into fan fiction (because I love reminding people that I’m old), this was called “slash.” Slash was exclusively a term for mlm relationships. Same-sex relationships between women (wlw) were labeled “fem-slash,” and were much more rare.

Multiple people have discussed theories for why mlm was, and continues to be in many cases, the most popular type of ship. Some believe it has to do with the prevalence of straight women in fandom who might fetishize mlm relationships. While I have no doubt that’s partly true, I believe the other common argument has a great deal of merit: there were more mlm ships because male characters were more interesting and more prevalent.

Star Trek: The Original Series had only two main female characters and neither of them was given close to the emotional depth as Spock or Kirk. Lord of the Rings, which was one of the most popular pieces of media on which to write fanfic when I was younger, has so few women the movies had to add in a boat load of new scenes for Arwen.

Recently, though, not only have more shows invested in writing dynamic, interesting female characters, but they have included multiple diverse female characters with relationships with each other and not just the men in the shows.

So, not only do more people ship wlw ships, but more people expect to actually see those ships represented in their media. Never before has a wlw ship becoming “endgame” seemed more possible.

In many ways this is fantastic. More representation being not only more possible but more expected is absolutely necessary for our media to progress and grow. This has, however, lead to some growing tensions in communities where shipping has, in some ways, become its own form of activism, which means that there is not only people’s personal feelings and preferences for ships on the line, but people who feel that fighting for their ship to become canon is a proxy battle for their own acceptance.

All three of these wlw ships mean a lot to the people who ship them, and all three have been met with the desire, and occasionally demand, of canon validation as well as a heady mess of coding, accusations of queer baiting, and the lingering question of which, if any, relationships might get the same, and hopefully more explicit, validation that Korrasami had.

Let’s start this deep dive into these relationships as ships with the one that has, in canon, already been resolved.

Yep, that’s definitely a Disney twirl going on there.

One of the first points often made when the validity of a mlm or wlw ship is questioned is that, if you say an m/f couple do the same thing, no one would question that it was romantic. This makes it interesting, and sets off the shipping alarm for anyone who’s a fan of wlw ships when Tangled: The Series goes out of its way to not only give Cass and Rapunzel (ship name: Cassunzel) romantic moments like the above “Disney twirl,” but also directly parallels relationship moments that occurred between Rapunzel and her canon boyfriend/future husband Eugene (AKA Flynn Rider).

youtube

Look familiar? It’s almost a shot-for-shot remake of Rapunzel and Eugene meeting for the first time. In this episode, Cassandra accidentally wipes Rapunzel’s memory to the point where Rapunzel thinks she’s still in the tower. It plays out, in part, as “What if Cassandra had found her instead of Eugene?”--something every shipper had doubtless already asked themselves at least once.

Another major moment of paralleling between the two relationships is the endings of both the movie and the series.

Eugene dies in the end of Tangled only to be resurrected by Rapunzel’s love. Cassandra dies in the series finale of Tangled: The Series, only to be resurrected by Rapunzel’s love. And it is love, that much is very clear.

The only debate really, is whether it’s romantic or platonic love.

Cassandra and Rapunzel never get official validation in the show or by the executive producers. The most confirmation fans get outside of the text of the show are comments made by some people who work on the show saying that they deliberately coded Cassandra as gay as they could whenever they could.

Yet, for the most part, the creators of this show are largely given a pass by Cassunzel shippers for not making their ship canon. Most understand that, as a Disney property, many hands are tied, particularly given that, due the previous establishment both form the end of Tangled and from the short Tangled Ever After that Rapunzel and Eugene do get married. The reaction seems to largely be that Disney and the show got about as close to confirming it as they could without doing so.

So let’s transition from the show that met, and in some ways, passed expectations to one that has set expectations super high: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

She-Ra is perhaps one of the most lgbtqia coded shows out there right now. The first season even ends with them saving the day with a rainbow.

Here is show-runner and executive producer Noelle Stevenson on queerness in her life and She-Ra:

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Yet, despite these deliberate attempts to show representation and to challenge heteronormative ideas, the show has yet to show any of its primary characters or even second tier characters in queer romantic relationships. We have seen a few parents, one pair on in a photo, and their is one married couple of women, but none of these characters are prominently featured on the show.

She-Ra has set expectations incredibly high and has yet to deliver.

Even so, part of what sets She-Ra apart from the other two shows discussed here is that there are multiple queer shipping opportunities. Catra and Adora (ship name Catradora) are one of, if not the, most popular ships, but both Catra and Adora have other female characters with which they could be just as easily shipped.

On the one hand, the pressure is pretty high to establish at least one major queer ship before the end of the show. On the other hand, the pressure is much less that the ship specifically be Catradora.

The near-certainty that there will be one or more wlw ships confirmed before the end of She-Ra means, to me, that Catradora has the greatest chance to become canon.

So, there’s Cassunzel that never really had much of a chance for canon confirmation and Catradora, which has a better chance of becoming canon, but also has less pressure to become THE ship. Where does that leave Lena and Kara?

Anyone who has been in the Supergirl fandom knows that it can feel like a battleground. While all fandoms tend to have their issues, Supergirl’s can be so contentions that it, frankly, makes watching the show less fun. This doesn’t all fall on one groups shoulders, I’ve seen nastiness from many sides over different issues. However, the biggest point of contention tends to center around the potential ship of Lena and Kara (Supercorp).

Supercorp, as a ship, is completely valid. Kara has way more chemistry with Lena than she has had with any of her male love interests, and two of those guys were played by people whom actress Melissa Benoist was actually in relationships with (though the first was an abusive dirtbag, so lack of chemistry probably makes sense there). Lena once thanked Kara by filling her entire office with flowers. There are cuddles, and Kara’s unwavering (until recently) faith in Lena’s goodness. It’s hard not to ship them.

The issue in the fandom, is not so much that people ship Supercorp (though there are increasingly more people who have issues with the ship itself, which is something I’ll address about all three of these ships in the next post) but the vehemence with which some who ship Supercorp approach whether it will be endgame.

In a way, the frustration is understandable. Supergirl is, in many ways, a show that has made a point of including LGBTQ representation. The second season featured a multiple episode story arc of Supergirl’s adoptive sister Alex Danvers (I will stan her until the end of time) realizing she was a lesbian, coming out, and eventually starting a relationship with another woman. Supergirl also made headlines for featuring the first live-action trans superhero on tv with the introduction of Dreamer in Season 4. The trans actress who plays Dreamer, Nicole Maines, has even had input on how the character is represented including a recent episode that discussed the often ignored violence targeting trans people, particularly trans women of color.

She-Ra and Supergirl have different approaches to representation. She-Ra takes place in a fantasy world and appears to take the approach that nothing about identity or sexuality should be assumed about anyone. There is no heteronormativity in Etheria, yet no major characters are in non-m/f relationships. Supergirl on the other hand, is set in a world more similar to ours which has heteronormativity, homophobia, and transphobia, which leads to the show making episodes and story-arcs specifically about those topics while also somewhat constraining the show. There are arguments to be made about the worth of both approaches and both can serve a purpose for viewers, particularly young viewers, who are searching for characters like them in media.

So, why are the people behind Supergirl so often accused of homophobia?

I mentioned in the Blond Bulldozers section that it is a bit telling that all three shows being discussed here attempt to create diversity while having the whitest, most mainstream character as the lead. There are many who would argue that the true values of the shows are represented by their main characters, and that the rest are window dressing to try to make the show look good as a form of tokenism. The point being that shows won’t really show a commitment to diversity until the main characters are just as diverse as the rest of the cast.

These are all valid arguments.

A less valid argument is the claim that Supercorp is being deliberately baited by the creators of the show. Queer baiting is a term that seems to have a lot of subjectivity tied up with it. The general idea is that it is when creators purposefully use queer coding or other means to inspire queer shipping of characters as a means to draw in the queer community to their show but then never delivering on that potential.

In some ways, all three of these shows could be accused of queer baiting. The direct parallels in between Cassandra/Rapunzel and Eugene/Rapunzel were no accident. The coding and “anything can happen” while very little does on She-Ra is much the same. And Supergirl is trying to center a large part of the show around the relationship between Kara and Lena, a relationship they know many of the fans see as romantic.

Yet, to me, Supergirl, is actually a less guilty party, at least when it comes to Supercorp. One can, again, argue that the canon LGBT ships and characters exist to pander and draw in those audiences, but Supercorp, I believe, genuinely came out of a place of wanting Kara to have a strong female relationship with someone other than her sister, mother, or boss, and I’m sure this falling-out was in the plans fairly early on.

Has the show completely shut down the idea? No, I don’t think they would be foolish enough to do that. But I don’t believe that it rises to the level of baiting. Shows like Sherlock or movies like Pitch Perfect 3 are, to me, much more egregious examples.

Still, as I said, I can understand the frustration of Supercorp shippers, I just feel like the level of anger directed by some not just at the creatives who make the show but at other fans as well is not fully justified. (And yes, I know “not all Supercorps” and I also know other fans have been jerks. Sanvers shippers who are being asses about Kelly are just as bad.) And who knows? I’d never say never to the ship maybe becoming canon eventually after Kara and Lena work out their issues.

That being said, all three of these ships, regardless of canon status, are incredibly popular, and I want to examine more of what that is and the reason some people are wary of these ships and the potential messages they send. This leads me to our topics for our next installment:

MY WIFE IS A BITCH AND I LIKE HER SO MUCH

and

POISON PARADISE

I will try to make the next one shorter. Also, sorry for typos, I did not give this a thorough read-through. I used all my brain power just writing it.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #she ra #spop #adora #catra #catradora #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel #tts cassandra #cassandra #cassunzel

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easilydistractedbyfanfic · 4 years

Note

What do you think of the critics of murven being ableist (coming from a chronically ill person who considers it such)?

First of all, I think that we all bring a different perspective to fiction - and ships - based on our own experiences. So we have biases and preferences that sometimes we’re not even cognizant of with regard to what we are drawn to or what we are repulsed by. But I also think it’s important to listen to other perspectives, especially minority voices, and yes I do know that there are those who are strongly against the Murphy/Raven ship because they feel it discriminates or does carry an ableist attitude. And yes, I have read some of those takes out of a desire to understand it.

Before I add my own opinion, let me start with two caveats. First, I am not disabled and I do get that because of that, my understanding (or lack thereof) of this topic is going to be influenced by my own dearth of personal experience/only having an outside view. Second, whether it matters or not, I did start shipping these two characters in 1x10, which is before Murphy shot Raven and she received her permanent injury from it. I don’t suggest this lets me off the hook for my opinions, and in fact I still clearly ship them even knowing Murphy DID cause this injury - I’m just pointing this out because I do happen to know the exact moment I got into this relationship and I am quite aware of why I like their dynamic and what draws me to them.

So that said - it happens to be my personal opinion that this relationship is not ableist from the way that it is portrayed in the show. And yes, I understand that what is ableist/not ableist to me, a non-disabled person, may certainly be different than what an actual disabled person may see. But this question seems to be seeking my justification for shipping this ship, so I am going to offer it under the cut.

I think that t100 has done a great job with this particular storyline - portraying Raven as very adversarial and angry towards Murphy, both because of him shooting her, of course, but also because of her anger over the whole Finn/Trikru Village mess. Not long after he shoots her, Raven lures Murphy into a sort of trap with the intent to give Murphy to Trikru instead of Finn, and while I can’t say it’s fully revenge for her leg, nor is it fully just to save Finn either, IMHO. Both of these things influence her. Ultimately her plan doesn’t work, and it happens to be my opinion based on the scene that Raven is aware that she is doing wrong, but regardless of personal interpretation of this storyline, it is canon that Raven is angry at Murphy and this is ongoing from after he shoots her and well into S4. No one suggests that her anger is misplaced, no one pushes for her to “get over” him shooting her, and for the most part when they do interact (they had no scenes together in S3), Murphy mostly just takes her ire like it’s his due - he does not resist it or push back as he does with others, which to me always suggested that he felt like he deserved her anger - which he does.

At the time that I was watching live, I was aware my interest in Raven/Murphy as a ship was far-fetched in 1x10 (when I first liked the idea of them), and I absolutely admit Murphy was still a jerk then, even before he shot her. I just liked the possibility of what I thought they could be, and I found Murphy far more interesting for Raven than Finn. After the shooting happened, I figured there was absolutely no chance of them ever getting together or being friends after that, especially with no interaction between them in S3. But then S4 happened and for me, possibilities were renewed. I could go rather in depth about it, but I think things started to change for RAVEN after Murphy stole that medicine for Adria. She was angry with him over it, even though in a way he took that burden off of her shoulders. She made the choice to say no medicine for Adria, with the odds being likely that it wouldn’t save the child but without 100% certainty. Murphy stealing it meant that the death of the child was no longer on Raven’s conscience. I don’t think Raven grasped this initially, but when they get to Becca’s Island in S4 and she is shown to still be angry with Murphy - calling him a dick, saying he shouldn’t have come - but then he helps her run from the drones when she can’t keep up, and canon portrays her as being perhaps surprised/shocked/perplexed by this because she didn’t expect it of him, but then she CHOOSES to thank him for it of her own volition. And when she is talking to Luna and trying to convince her to stay, Raven says that Adria was worth taking a chance for - which is a change in Raven’s initial perspective of not allowing the medicine for Adria.

It was and is my interpretation of the show’s canon that this was something of a turning point in Raven’s head, a softening towards other people as more than just numbers or statistics. Raven has never been a cruel character but at the same time, often she previously showed empathy more towards someone she loved or knew, and tried to react with logic or without emotion when it came to others - understandable in order to make life or death decisions, sure, but often making her seem cold, like what Abby accused her of when Raven wouldn’t give the medicine. During their time on Becca’s Island in S4, Raven works together quite a bit with Murphy. They can be antagonistic, which is no surprise, but we also know that Raven is also being affected by Becca’s code still in her head. We see them working together - sometimes quite well or even joking - and we see Raven thank Murphy again for his help. We see Murphy taking steps to be the bigger person where Raven is concerned (ie after their big fight he’s actually trying to learn Luna’s words to calm Raven down and it’s Murphy that sucks it up and comes back to the lab after the fight). We are shown that Murphy does not fight back against Raven physically (just tries to protect/defend himself), shows concern for her well-being, and in his own way, tries to help. (I can cite examples here but this is already wordy). When Raven decides to die on her own terms, she shows this change of attitude again when she offers Murphy forgiveness when she tells him it’s not his fault. There was no pressure on Raven to do this, no outside influence other than her own CHOICE. Murphy did not beg or seem to expect forgiveness from her at any time in S4 (or prior), and is in fact really shell-shocked when she offers it.

To me, THIS is why I don’t view the Murven ship as ableist. There is no subtext that suggests that Raven needs to or should forgive Murphy. There is no scenario where Murphy refutes or tries to justify what he did to her. Murphy is not put on some kind of redemption arc with regard to Raven or what he did to her, she’s not in a storyline where she is seeking to be “fixed” so much as she’s seeking to escape the pain, and we see her have an ongoing struggle with it so it’s not like it’s all just forgotten or water under the bridge for her. While Raven does seem to think the injury is something to overcome at first, we are told and shown that it won’t ever go away, and we do see her struggles as she comes to terms with this. The show doesn’t portray her as inferior because of her injury, though. Raven is always seen as a valuable member of the group by others even when she herself doubts her worth. In fact, people regularly try to save her at the risk of themselves. Raven as a character makes a personal choice - and we could certainly dive into the reasons for it; I love characterization stuff! - but she chooses to forgive Murphy and move forward and whatever Murphy does or does not do isn’t specifically what brings this about, I don’t think - to me it’s much more about what Raven wants for herself before she thinks she’s going to die. This is key for me because Raven never loses autonomy where Murphy is concerned - something in her wants to forgive him and for me, I can only respect this choice as something the character actively seeks.

And if I dig a little further into it, I can add that after Raven forgives Murphy and then he is part of the group that comes back to rescue her/they go into space for 6 years together, at no time are we shown anything to suggest that they are anything other than friends. In fact we can infer that they’ve only gotten to be better friends, especially because Murphy not only decides to stay behind for her (and it’s made clear that it IS for her, because why should she always be the one to sacrifice), but he also isn’t shown raging and angry or blaming her when he finds out there’s no escape pod. He puts himself at risk multiple times in S5 & S6 for Raven and/or for Raven as part of his friend group, and she does the same for him. If there was still resentment here, we as an audience would know it and this isn’t what has been happening. In fact, in S6 I’d venture that Raven shows Murphy MORE understanding than she shows other people, which stems from not only the two of them being alike in some ways but also is evidence that she cares for him (you can read as romantic or as friends, either way they both care).

Now all of the above isn’t to say that I can’t see how someone else could be turned off by this ship, and I can certainly agree that in real life, if someone shot me or someone I care about, it’s probably going to be impossible for me to get close to that person or want to spend time with them. However, the fictional world of The 100 is a very different sort of place. All of the characters have basically tried to kill each other or cause harm to each other at some point - even the ones who love each other (romantically and otherwise). I can think of tons of examples! Raven and Murphy got stuck on a spaceship for 6 years together - if they didn’t find a way to get along, think how horrible that would have been not only for themselves but for the other five people there.

I don’t ship these two because I think it’s admirable that Raven forgave Murphy, or because I think some weird karma tie formed between them where he owes her some kind of life-debt or something. To me their dynamic (romantic or friendship) has grown far past him shooting her and that’s now a part of their past that is outweighed by what positive things they’ve built between them. Yes, part of why I think I can move past the shooting is because at the time, Murphy did not know he was shooting RAVEN - he thought it was Octavia. If he had wanted Raven specifically to die, maybe my shippy thoughts of them would have evaporated, I don’t know. But that’s not the story. The story is that Raven was an innocent bystander to Murphy’s rage, and they’ve both grown a lot since that happened. The overall story of The 100 spends a lot of time debating whether people can “do better”, whether we’re destined to repeat the same mistakes all the time, who is ‘worthy’ and who isn’t, and who matters to you and who doesn’t. I do have an understanding of forgiveness outside of this show, and why people choose to forgive to begin with. Often it’s for themselves - not for the person that caused them harm. I’m sure that perspective comes into play for me as well, with regards to why I don’t see this relationship as ableist - whether viewed as romantic or as a friendship. To me, this ship isn’t centered on the shooting. Maybe that in itself is where I’m going wrong from the perspective of those that disagree with me - because I don’t hold the shooting up as the sole important thing between them. It’s a part of their history, yes, and it’s not ever going to be forgotten, and I don’t suggest it should be.

But to ME, intent comes into play, their history and present beyond the shooting matter too. And they’ve each learned a lot of lessons since then about love, loss, friendship and who they want to be - and who they don’t. And I’m super intrigued by all of that and lots, lots more.

So per usual, this is lengthy even though I didn’t really touch on the parts of their dynamic that really got me into them. But I made an attempt to explain my own thoughts on the question and I hope that provided some insight, whether or not you or anyone else agree with my perspective. I am and always will be a proponent of “ship and let ship”, and I fully understand there are a lot of complexities to what we like and what we don’t. At this point, “I Am Become Death” 1x10 aired in May 2014. I’ve been shipping them ever since and I don’t expect that to change any time soon. Raven & Murphy as a romantic ship isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I get that. It just so happens that they are definitely mine.

#my inbox #asked and answed #murven #murphy x raven #ship justification #since I can't think what else to call this as it's not speculation or meta

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grimscale-mercenaries · 5 years

Text

Midnight Madness

Written by: Thaelea Solarsphere

So much had happened this night. It began with a rather cordial conversation with Svarr, then to a few tense moments with Covie, and finally tears, again with Covie. The Grimscale Collector had abruptly resigned from the company. No one saw it coming. Daegan was shocked, and poor Dusty nearly succumbed to a panic attack. Thaelea, upon hearing of the outrageous event over the comm line, set off to talk some sense into Covie. Or, failing that, slap some sense into her.

Things between Covie and Thaelea had been tense since the latter’s ejection from the company. Even after her return, matters had not settled. There was stubbornness and pride on both sides, as well as a bit of awkwardness, given the open and admitted affection the Elf held for Covie. But when the news of her resignation from Grimscale came, Lea abandoned the ‘game’ that the two had been playing. Some things were more important than who was right or who apologized first.

Daegan informed the Ren’dorei that Covie had retreated to Tol Barad, her favored locale of late. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lea followed, meeting Daegan at the inn on the island. After a few snippy remarks in the form of Daegan blaming Lea for this mess, and Thaelea resenting it, he led the woman across the island to a predetermined location. There was some magic at work, as Daegan placed on rune on the Elf’s hand before allowing her to go after Covie. Once found, Lea discovered Covie toying with Blood magic, as evidenced by a poor rabbit that exploded, showering both of them in blood and gore. Such an affair would have been shocking...any other time. For now, more important matters.

Thaelea, ever her entitled, fiery self, demanded answers, going so far as grasping the collar of Covie’s dress. At first dismissive, Covie eventually made reference to Lea’s firing, which only enflamed the Elf further. After a heated exchange between the two regarding what had happened, who betrayed who, and whose hurt was greater, the standoff came to an end after Thaelea tearfully apologized, eliciting an apology from Covie as well, albeit an unnecessary one. With the tension rapidly disintegrating, Lea felt certain that Covie would come back to the fold. But to her horror, the woman refused to return. She assured Lea that she would not leave her, which admittedly, is what the Ren’dorei was most concerned with, but Covie still refused to return to Grimscale. Why?

In the moments after Covie’s refusal, Thaelea’s mind raced with thoughts. So many emotions raging within. Why is she doing this?

Is this my fault? Another burden to bear?

Why now?

What could be-

And there it was. A single thought took hold in the Elf’s mind. Covie had been spending a great deal of time with Svarr, the ‘barbarian’ as Lea called him. He’d been showing her things, teaching her things. Rituals, visions, ideology, who knows what else? Yes, that must be the answer. Grimscale was Covie’s life, her family. That bond was the very thing that had enraged Covie so much at Thaelea, the elf having called the company ‘treacherous’ and ‘unreliable’. Yes, this explains it all. Svarr twisted and warped her. It’s his fault.

After their emotional exchange, Covie politely suggested that Thaelea leave. The Elf was reluctant to go, but she did all the same. There was nothing more she could get from Covie tonight. But as she turned from the woman, she already began to simmer with rage. An idea had taken root in her mind. Svarr had to pay. This was all his fault. His teachings, his rituals, his damned visions. At no point did Covie even suggest a connection, but so desperate was Thaelea to explain what had just happened, her mind latched onto the only thing that made sense. A wretched barbarian had manipulated Covie into doing something horrible. This could not stand.

Walking through the woods of Tol Barad, Lea’s blood boiled. A trail of dead animals, mostly stags, deer, and assorted small creatures, but no cats, of course. The poor things looked shriveled and lifeless. Thaelea had been draining their life essence right out of them. In her rage, she did to each of these things what she wanted to do to Svarr. Even a few stray demons, escaped from the prisons below, were drained of their essence and left to rot. Any living thing larger than an insect that had the misfortune of crossing the woman’s path at that time was felled by her magic. This proved most unfortunate to a particular group of Orcs.

Tol Barad had largely been abandoned by the Alliance and Horde. No longer of strategic significance, the island was vulnerable to raiding parties, from both sides. One such raiding party, Orcish outriders, stumbled across Thaelea as she wandered down the main road. What easy prey she must have seemed. A singular Elf, alone on the road, with no apparent means of defense. They must have thought themselves fortunate. They were not. Thaelea was a woman easily underestimated. She herself said frequently that she was no fighter, and she wasn’t. But she didn’t need to be.

The leader of the Orcs approached her, shouting something in Orcish. The language was familiar to Thaelea, thanks to her time with the Horde, but she paid him no heed. He shouted again, dismounting from his riding wolf and placing himself in Thaelea’s path. Only now did the Elf acknowledge this brute’s existence. The green-skinned beast smiled at her, flashing large, rotting tusks. Lea just stared back with half-lidded eyes. There was no expression on her face. She was totally blank. It didn’t seem to trouble the Orc, any. He reached for the axe he kept on his back, preparing to cut down the Elf without a second thought.

When the Orc reached for his weapon, Thaelea immediately began muttering something. It was...demonic? The Orcs took it for gibberish and ignored it. That was a mistake, for they failed to realize that a portal in reality had ripped open behind them. They also failed to realize the twelve-foot Wrathguard that stepped out of the portal, summoned to Azeroth by his mistress. The Orcish leader seemed poised to strike Thaelea, but was interrupted by the frenzied howl of one of his comrades. The other Orcs turned back to see Khillikad holding the rear-most Orc up by his head. The remaining two Orcs readied themselves for a proper fight, though not soon enough to save their comrade. The massive demon crushed the Orc’s skull in his grasp.

Two of the three remaining Orcs howled in rage at the loss of their friend, charging forward without a moment’s hesitation. Had they been a bit more caution, they might have noticed two more portals opening. A pair of felhounds lunged at the Orcs from the flank. They missed the first entirely, but successfully tore the rightmost Orc off his wolf. The felled Orc roared, intent to fight on, but he was lost as soon as the hounds had him. The creatures had no eyes, but a sense of smell that almost equated to vision. Their powerful jaws and jagged teeth snapped repeatedly at the Orc, biting, slashing, gnarling his forearms as he frantically tried to block. In the end, one of the felhounds scored a fortunate strike to the Orc’s throat. The strike, and the following rapid loss of blood, stopped all resistance. The demons devoured the Orc while he was still partially alive, but powerless to save himself.

Meanwhile, the Orc that had avoided the hounds went straight for Khillikad. The demon swung its massive axe. While the Orc managed to dodge, the wolf beneath her was split in two. Thrown from the beast, she recovered quickly and made another run at the titanic demon. Khillikad, for all his strength, was not invincible. But to most races of Azeroth, he’d be close to it. To an Orc, who favored frontal attacks that emphasized strength and ferocity, Khillikad was a near undefeatable foe. The Orc could not hope to overpower the demon, nor would her axe, small compared to the demon’s, have a chance at inflicting deep enough wounds. Yet, she charged all the same. For a fleeting moment, the Orc seemed as if she had gotten through, that she could slay the demon. This hope was dashed when the beast whirled around, striking the Orc with its spiked tail and knocking her into a tree. Khillikad did not even get close to her to finish the woman off. He hurled his axe towards her, imbedding it deep into the tree, as well as splitting the Orc’s skull from jaw to scalp.

Now, only the ring leader remained. With the arrival of Lea’s demonic defenders, he had forgotten the Elf, focusing his attention on the savage creatures. But Lea had not forgotten him. With his attention focused elsewhere, she raised her hand and touched her palm to his back. An eerie, green glow enveloped him; his life essence was being ripped out. It didn’t take long to incapacitate the Orc. By the time he realized what was happening, it was already too late. He fell to his knees, then onto his side. His once impressive physique began to dwindle. Thaelea stepped around him, approaching the Orc’s face, and crouching down beside him. “Shh.” She says, just above a whisper. “You cannot die so long as your soul endures.” The woman spoke in Thalassian, while the Orc likely did not speak. “You’re a barbarian, like him.” She continued. “You look different, you fight for different things, but you’re just like him. You have your own ideas of honor, would infect others with your vile ideology, turn good women against their families…” The Elf’s hand fell to the Orc’s exposed chest, gently pressing her palm to him as the creature struggled to breathe. “You’ll never harm anyone ever again.” Her hand began to glow a pink-violet. The Orc, already weak, struggled, in vain, to move away from her hand, but it was no use. “And when I’m done with him, neither will he.” Lea pulls her hand away from the Orc slowly, tendrils of energy stretching between the two. It’s clear the Orc is suffering as he writhes. But a moment later, the energy stream stops, all light centering around Lea’s hand. The Orc? Motionless. No movement, no breathing. In the Elf’s hand was a gem, pink-violet in color.

Thaelea looked down at her memento with a strange sort of smile, almost unhinged. “Yes, that’s the only way to deal with people like him, isn’t it?” She didn’t speak to anyone in particular, only musing openly to herself. “You did this to Covie, Svarr. You made her abandon us. I will never forgive you.” Her fingers closed around the newly-acquired gem as pale-violet eyes turned towards the sky. The little smirk grew into a wide, positively cheerful grin. “You took Covie from us. Now I’ll take your soul.”

#grimscale mercenaries #member writing #thaelea #svarr #covie #destruction #warlock

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saints-row-2 · 6 years

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film watch day 23: The Ritual

ive seen The Ritual before but i 1) wanted to watch it again and 2) wanted to write about it on my blog because none of you thoughtless sluts care about The Ritual as much as you should do, which is to say as much as i do, which is to say an ENORMOUS amount.

The Ritual is about a group of four friends who, in memoriam of a friend who died, go on a hike through the Swedish mountains. on their journey they take a detour through the woods and find themselves lost, with a supernatural force they don’t understand hunting them down.

The Ritual is mostly acknowledged for having one of the sickest and most rad monster designs in recent movie history, but literally every horror movie outlet has talked about that, and then gone on to show very little interest in the movie itself. so im going to commit a heresy and leave excellent monster design to the side so i can just talk about the film itself.

The Ritual is a film about grief and trauma. of the four characters, most central is Luke, who was present for the brutal murder of his friend during an armed robbery, and is struggling to cope with his own grief. all of the characters are trying and failing to cope with their own grief; Hutch hides his under layers of repression, Dom deflects and blames everyone around him, Phil who is seemingly the least affected, falls fastest to the idea that everything must ‘mean something’, vulnerable to paranoia and conspiracy.

the deftness of the character and dialogue writing is something i dont see praised enough in this film; aside from the performances and writing being incredibly natural and believable, the dialogue is tied into the themes in a way that feels meaningful without being unrealistically ominous. its the best kind of dialogue, used to establish character and theme instead of being wasted on fucking exposition. the film gives you just enough to make you understand.

the theme of grief permeates everything in this movie in a way thats hard to dissect without giving a scene-by-scene description of the plot, but it turns the film from being a tense movie about people lost in the woods to a genuinely moving journey about the need to accept your trauma and push through the darkness of the woods towards the light. the threat in The Ritual isnt mental illness, its ignoring your health and needs. characters try to be practical, to move onwards, but their refusal to cope with what happened in their pasts condemns them.

the characters’ bonds feel good, because there’s a layer of quiet resentment and complexity to their actions. this isnt like so many bromance movies, where the characters’ connections are unconditionally loving to the point where its unrelatable; these are men who have known each other a long time, who have history and established dynamics, and things they arent telling each other.

the woods in The Ritual are claustrophobic but vast, at the same time. the characters are penned in by harsh walls of trees, and the forest seems never-ending. sometimes in the dark, things move between the trees, and those things are neither human nor animal. bewildered and lost, the characters try their hardest to keep together. the film uses its gorgeous soundtrack perfectly to build up a continual sense of dread and fear, often using just the music combined with the nature the characters are trapped in to emphasise the feeling of oppressive dread.

what i was struck by on this rewatch of the movie was the use of light as a visual metaphor for recovery; the visual of Luke standing on a hill and looking out at the distant dawn while his friends, just behind him, struggle through the darkness and the trees feels like a pretty powerful visual metaphor for coming to a breakthrough in your recovery and realising that you are going to have to turn back to support the people still struggling. choosing whether to support, blame or abandon people is a subtle but recurring theme in the film.

theres a lot of individual scenes i want to point to as examples of just... how much this film has to offer in terms of visual metaphor and examination of its theme, but i dont want to spoil the entire movie. theres a lot in The Ritual that makes rewatching the film kind of vital, just to see more clearly how the working pieces fit together. this is an incredibly tightly made film.

i love this movie, a lot, if that wasnt already obvious. i think its a damn fucking shame its been kind of ignored, because i think theres a wealth of depth to it thats gone widely ignored. its a film about mental health and recovery that isnt wildly absurd or awful. it feels real, and relevant. acknowledge your grief and trauma or be consumed by it, The Ritual says. only by accepting what you’re going through can you reach the light.

#rantsfilmwatch

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scripttorture · 6 years

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I once read something about this kid who’s dad worked in the Italian Mafia and they mentioned eating and the men going down to the basement to beat someone. I mostly hear about torture conducted by the government or police. Would something conducted by the Italian Mafia still fall under torture depending on what they do? If they had a torturer group, how would other characters react since they wouldn’t be like a good cop or supervisor, but another criminal?

(Part 2 of mafia question) Also, could I use a torturer group to point out structural flaws in my fictional organization?

That first question is actually something I’m having to double check atthe moment because the law has changed/is changing in some places.

Some countries are moving towards counting abuse by internationalcriminal organisations as torture. Some countries still legally define tortureas an abuse conducted by either government employees (soldiers, policeofficers, etc) or armed groups thatcontrol territory. It really depends on where exactly your story is set.

Generally torture is legally defined more by who does it than what they do. To meet the legal criteria fortorture something has to be-

Painful (mentally or physically)

Deliberately inflicted with the intent to cause pain

Done for some kind of reason (ie punishment, to terrorise, to try and extract a confession)

Done by either a representative of a government or a group that controls territory

Some countries count certain organised crimes groups in the lastcategory and therefore their activities legally count as torture. The keything, regardless of country, is that this is abuse done on behalf of a largergroup by a group member. It isn’tdone by a private individual.

Without knowing where exactly your story is set I can’t research whatwould and wouldn’t count for your story. And….I’m not a lawyer so I may not bethe best person to research that for a specific country anyway.

You could try to look up the answer for the country you have in mind.You could also try treating the case as something huge in your story, somethingthat leads people to start debating the law. In a fictional country (or indeedjust fiction) you could just make a narrative choice about whether or not thislegally ‘counts’ in your setting.

I will say that you couldeasily make an argument that the Mafia controls vast swathes of southern Italy.

I’m not entirely sure what you mean with your second question. I’minterpreting it as asking how other criminals within this organised crime groupmight treat and react to the torturers.

That’s not something I have any research on, so my answer is based on acombination of anecdotal accounts from soldiers and my own instinct/generalknowledge.

I think that responses would vary pretty widely depending on theindividual. Even within violent groups individuals often have a sense of…Ihesitate to call it ‘morality’ but everyone has a sense of what is ‘too far’,what is acceptable and what isn’t.

It seems unlikely that members of the Mafia would be well versed inresearch on torture and its effects.

But I think it would be perfectly realistic for a number of yourcharacters to be more or less against it anyway. This could be based on‘practical’ considerations, such as it bringing more police or political attentionto the group, being hard or unpleasant to clean up, difficulty holding victimsfor days without discovery and so on.

It could also be based on personal dislike for the torturers. Torturersdo tend to come across as prettyarrogant and self-important. That’s part of the toxic, hyper-masculinesubculture they tend to build. A sort of chest-thumping bravado that has themseeing themselves as the biggest, baddest, most important person in the room.

That could easily aggravate other characters, especially if they seethemselves as doing all the ‘real work’ of actually bringing money in.

And I think you could still reasonably have one or two people objectingto specific incidents as going ‘too far’. Or individuals who just think it isn’tparticularly useful. Someone outside the torturer sub-group might have a moreclear-eyed idea of how much useful information they’re getting from torture, ienone.

It’s worth noting here that I’m not convinced torture in organised crimehappens in the same way as torture in the military. In military organisationsyou tend to see sub-groups of torturers within larger organisation, made up ofindividuals who spend the majority of their time torturing rather than doinganything else.

The impression I get of organised crime (and it is just an impression because I haven’t found any specific researchyet) is that there are a lot of individuals who occasionally torture ratherthan specific torturers who spend the majority of their time torturing. Thatmakes a difference. It could mean that working from the military as a model isentirely wrong and that torture within organised crime groups functions in adifferent way, with different patterns and sub-cultures.

I’m going to keep going with the assumption it functions inmilitary-like ways because that’s the best/only pattern I can work from at themoment.

With that in mind- yes I think you really could use torture to highlightthe flaws in this organisation’s structure.

Torturers tend to cause fragmentation in the groups they’re in. I thinkthe types of issues I’ve discussed in regards to…why other criminal charactersmight not get on with torturers should give you a little bit of an idea whythat happens.

Torturers essentially don’t function well in communities. Some of thatis due to the mental health problems torture causes in torturers. But a lot ofit is also due to the way torturers seem to…form cliques.

They form sub-cultures/sub-groups within larger organisations. And thetoxic hyper-masculine culture they develop in those groups is….not conducive tocooperation with other people.

They’re very competitive, extremely violent and well- the kind of macho,individual ‘competition’ for an imagined ‘alpha’ position they tend to engagein means they tend not to listen to orders. That’s not just in the area oftorture particularly. They disobey orders. Their discipline is atrocious. Theyargue with their superiors.

They create an awful working environment by antagonising theircolleagues, undermining discipline (and hence fracturing the group) and eggingeach other on to worse and worse behaviour.

If there are weak points in this organisation, old resentments,rivalries, the chances are torturers will bring that out. They might not do itdirectly, but by worsening the group environment and sowing distrust-essentially all of these characters are going to end up more stressed than theywould be otherwise, leading to shorter tempers and more frequent arguments.

You might already have some ideas in mind for how your torturers couldbe used to emphasise the organisation’s flaws. I’m going to make a fewsuggestions just in case though. :)

I think the way they undermine the chain of commandis a good thing to use. Arguing with superiors, outright disobeying them (andthen perhaps blaming it on others) or just complaining about the people incharge could all be used to show rivalries ramping up in the group and/or afracturing between ‘loyal’ and ‘disloyal’ characters. As a side note torturersseem to love complaining about how they’d get so much more done if they justhad less over sight. So I think using just gossip and rumours coming out ofthese complaints would be very true to life.

Highlighting the ways torturers tend to lose otherskills could also work as a fracture between them and the larger group. Asignificant part of the group might start seeing them as a drain on resourcesthat gives the group nothing as torturers demand more resources and morespecial treatment without really doing anything the rest of the Mafia couldn’t.A prominent example of torture failing (failure to get information or a kidnapvictim who was supposed to be kept alive dying for instance) could be used as aflash point.

And I think I’m going to leave that there. I hopethis helps. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #organised crime #torturers #effect of torture on torturers #effect of torture on organisations #behaviour of torturers #deskilling #Anonymous

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thejamesoldier · 6 years

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Bucky & the Beast

Hi all! So this ficlet is for my darling friend Erin’s ( @theassetseyeliner ) AU Writing Challenge! I submitted a request for this prompt on her original post! Please go support her and all the participating authors who worked hard on their submissions :) Now onto the story xxx

Prompt #22: “You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.”

Overall Tags: a teeny weeny bit of angst, although mostly stifling fluff, some potty mouth language, spicy humor, s l o w b u r n but in ficlet form tho?

Part 1 of 2

It’s not that you weren’t a nice person...on the inside, very very very deep inside. You just didn’t allow any form of slacking amongst your employees.

And seeing as you not only own this multi-billion dollar company but also actively run it, you’re pretty sure you have the right to dictate everything that goes on under your nose when it comes to this business. You drove yourself into the grave to get this company where it is now, and you continue to work yourself down to hell every damn day to keep it as successful as it is.

Of course you know most of your staff views you as a complete tyrant. Of course you know your nickname on all sixty-eight levels of your high rise company building is ‘Bitch’. Of course you know you’re often compared to Miranda Priestly, the star of Devil Wears Prada. Of course you know you’ve been harsh enough to earn some of that resentment.

But you also know you have the undying respect of every major corporation in the world (which wasn’t easy to get since most of them are fat privileged older men who have too many cultural and moral deficiencies to count). The likes of which was solely earned by unignorable success, brutal consistency, and fear. You wished you didn’t have to be feared in order to be respected by some (most) people, but the ways of the world weren’t going to change that fast unfortunately.

It surprised you at first how many people tried to take advantage of you, of your company, of your money, of your weaknesses, of practically everything they could manage to find. You were always pretty blunt and a bit maniacal about perfection even back in high school, but having been beaten by an ocean of manipulative greedy people for years now, wave after wave after wave, you’re pretty jagged and dulled to it. You’ve found the only way to survive in this business world is to always expect the worst of people. It keeps you prepared for every situation even if it is an exhausting way to live.

Sometimes you worry if it is all worth it, but you then remember how much money your company is making and how all of it goes to support people, companies, philanthropies, arts institutions, and schools who need it. If the cost of good being put into this world is your warped personality, then so be it.

“Barnes I need those write ups on the work Ms. Romanoff’s team did this quarter. I asked for final copies yesterday, why are they late?” You question your head personal assistant in clipped efficient sentences as you strut down the long stretch of a modern elegant hallway, the sleek double doors of your main office looming at the end of it.

With your Prada high heels clicking sharply (if not a bit ironically) against the marble floor as you make your way to your gilded office, you scroll through an email on your phone sent from one of your board members while you wait for Barnes to put together an answer. The email consists of a polite reminder that you have a Skype call with Stark Industries this afternoon.

As if you’d forget.

With a punctuated scoff you burst into your glass office, not having to slow down your stride at all as Barnes moved with practiced haste to hold one of the doors open for you. You don’t bother with a thank you (even if you feel the manners your mother ingrained in you cringe and shriek in horror) but instead head nose up to your simple but stately desk. As you situate yourself behind it, booting up your desktop and quickly scanning some sticky-note reminders Barnes left for you the previous night before crumpling them in one ball and dropping them in the waste bin by your feet, you feel the very short leash you have on your patience strain.

Without glancing up at him you bark out, “Well?”

You hear the man clear his throat and know automatically that he’s preparing to take the fall for Romanoff’s team. Barnes always has had this habit to take the heat meant for someone else’s mistake himself, and allow whoever the guilty party is an extra second to fix whatever the problem was. It’s never effected the success of your company, so you’ve always let it slide. If you were being completely honest with yourself you know deep down that that’s why you’ve kept him around so long. James Barnes is the one person (okay maybe besides Natasha Romanoff) who holds the all time record of longest employment in your company. He’s also never been promoted from his place as Head Personal Assistant when you hired him into it a good few years back.

He’s only craftily brought up the issue of never moving up a few times, not wanting to push his luck with you, but other than that there’s never been a word of complaint like other employees you’ve had. One day when you’ve finally been run down enough, when the world has finally sucked all the life from you, you’ve decided that it’s James who you’ll give the company to. Of course no one knows this, but you made the decision quite some time ago.

“Ms. Romanoff had an issue with getting a closure on the deal,” Barnes starts up in his trademark baritone tenor of compassion, “She had all the finished documents written up by yesterday, it was me who failed to pass them to you.”

Still you don’t look at him, but you do silently translate what he’s saying as you open up your email account and start sorting through your inbox for the most important emails. Basically, Barnes is saying:

“Ms. Romanoff had no trouble badgering the client for the final papers, it was the client who failed to turn in everything on time. And since you never blame the client, its professionally Natasha’s fault. So therefore she did not have all the documents written up yesterday but pulled an all-nighter to finish everything and send said polished summary of the transaction to me first thing this morning. I’m lying for her (and probably without her knowledge) because I’m an annoyingly considerate man with pretty eyes and a wicked sharp jaw who is used to your unforgiving nature and shall take the fall for everyone because I am this company’s sparkling hero.”

Resolutely put-off with the very unprofessional way your mental translation ended up going, your mood sours sufficiently from its already foul natural state. You feel your face pinch deeper into its usual dissatisfied scowl.

“It is very unlike Ms. Romanoff to have any delays in her work. Give her one of my warnings.” You say in a mildly bitter tone as you reach a hand blindly over your desk towards Barnes in silent demand, while clicking on an email with the other hand and scanning it halfheartedly at the same time.

A packet of paper is slid gently into your expecting fingers and as you place them on the desk space beside your angled keyboard, you hear Barnes tap his thumbs across his phone as he sends you an e-copy of the papers you were just handed. When the email arrives in your inbox with a ding, it serves as the only acknowledgment that you received the email. It also is simultaneously Barnes’ dismissal.

Only when you hear your assistant sit down at his own smaller desk across the room from yours and start shuffling papers and things around, do you realize that you had automatically begun reading through the transaction summary he sent you. After you triple proof it (even if Natasha has never once made a mistake on her write ups), you forward everything to the cooperation partnering with you on this deal. Your trademark punctuality and promised results the only things that matter to you much these days.

You cut a quick side glance across the room at Barnes hunched over his own pile of work and wonder if you said thank you the next time he held the door open for you, if he��d make a big deal out of it. With an internal scoff you brush your gushy feelings swiftly away and replace them with your self-made workaholic robot.

Bucky’s patience with you is growing shorter and shorter each year, month, week, day, and second he works under you. Outwardly he’s mastered himself, but inwardly he’s been stewing and is quite near his boiling point. As he halfheartedly unclips a review packet from one of the company’s specialty divisions to go over before he hands it to you -- Miss Wicked Bitch of Best -- he wonders if it would kill you to say thank you when he opened the door, or maybe look at him when he talks. Bucky doesn’t even know what color your eyes are because he doesn’t think you’ve ever actually looked him in the eyes before.

And sure you take him to all the fancy business galas and parties and soirees and events and fundraisers, but you always maintain this formal professional wall. Even late nights at the office when it’s literally you, him, and a couple janitors (hell, you’ve both even slept at the office before) you still remain aloof and unapproachable. It’s not like he wants to get to know you, because honestly you seem like a pretty lonely sad bitter person anyway, but it’s downright unnatural how little anyone seems to know about you. Even when he wades through his high school memories, all he can remember about you is vaguely labeling you an asshole. Which really doesn’t help your case.

But if Bucky knows anything, it’s that no one is an unfeeling robot.

Even if they pretend to be, even if they believe themselves to be, there is always something down there. At the bottom of a soul there is always a nugget of brilliance. Bucky knows you’re not oblivious to what people say about you, but he wonders whether you just don’t care or you’ve crafted it that way to wield as a tool. He’s not sure which one is worse. Either way he thinks that you could handle things a bit more considerately and still have the respect you deserve. Because if there is one thing Bucky has to admire, it’s your resilience and unyielding desire to see things through. Your dedication to the company and all the good it brings is your one redeeming quality. You also have never done under the table deals or slipped into black market territory, its one of the reasons Bucky hasn’t quit. This company is clean and good and successful. Which is saying a lot in this economy. You also never under pay or over pay your employees, and you’re brutal but you’re fair.

And as Bucky’s thoughts circle back to stifling aggravation as he watches you type away unfussed and unpleasant as ever at your elevated desk, he goes to curl his hair behind his ear, per habit, to shake himself free of his thoughts, but realizes quite abruptly that he can’t. You had asked (well more like threatened and demanded) him to cut his long hair, claiming it ‘ruined the aesthetic and feel that this company represents’ and finds his aggravation churning into poorly bottled fury. Other people in your employment had long hair, I mean you didn’t really uphold any restrictions on hair, hats, head-dresses, or any type of clothing as long as you were put together. So it literally made no sense that Bucky was singled out.

Little did he know you asked him to cut it because those dark luscious locks were distracting as hell and made him too handsome for you to be able to rationally handle. I mean you were around him practically 24 hours a day, bless your soul. You know it was a horrible play on power, and probably earned you a one-way ticket to hell, but you’d rather come off posturing and domineering than love sick or undisciplined. I mean he was just as good looking with it cut short, but you told yourself the short hair made it easier to ignore him as a man and see him only as your assistant.

But much to your chagrin it really, really didn’t help.

“Barnes close out the rest of this meeting. Summarize it to me in detail on the way to the fundraiser.” You bark after you politely dismissed yourself from the Skype call with Tony Stark, the call on mute as you stand from your chair and crisply motion for Barnes to replace you.

Bucky grits his teeth and nods when you brush past him, trying not to let the fact that you assumed (as you always did) he’d be attending the fundraiser with you tonight and left him to clean up after you with the meeting pleasantries, anger him to the point of hysteria. He wasn’t your maid for Christ's sake, and just because he wouldn’t miss the fundraiser because of the opportunity to meet clients and business partners, why the hell did you always hitch him to your wagon for the evening?

You exit the conference room with a blooming confidence and a rare small smile the second you’re in a private enough area to let the expression soften your face. The itch to go back in there and make sure everything finished okay spreads under your skin like a rash but you breathe and stay rigid with yourself, knowing that in order to properly groom Barnes for your job one day, you had to learn to delegate to him more than you used to. And closing out a deal, especially with one as important as Stark Industries, was major. Barnes is more than capable though, and a small part of you is...proud of him.

You’re not sure when this nugget of utter blind faith in him started to become something much more complicated than trust in an employee, and developed into something dangerous. Dangerous like awe and adoration dangerous. Dangerous like fond dangerous. Dangerous like love dangerous.

The long clean leather seat of the limo separates you two.

You give Barnes your (mostly) undivided attention as he dutifully regales the deal closure with Stark this afternoon. You’re scrolling through your email, then your calendar, then your messages trying to avoid looking up at Barnes. The second you spotted him in one of his gala tuxes, it’s your favorite one of his actually since he rotates through them (I mean you don’t expect him to buy a new one for every event, you’re not that unreasonable), you knew it would be a long goddamn night. The subtle navy shine of the tux catches in the corner of your eye under the dimmed lights of the luxury car no matter how hard you stare at your phone screen.

When he finishes his report you nod your approval knowing that’s all he’s used to getting from you in terms of praise. With a knot of anxiety growing by the second in the back of your throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, you glance up at him from under your lashes. He’s mirroring you across the car, phone out, focus down, and body held with the formality you insisted be constantly upheld between you.

The first thing your eyes land on is his exposed clavicle where his collarbone frames the base of his neck. In this rare indulged moment of weakness you allow yourself to wonder what the hollow of his neck would taste like, what would it feel like against the texture of your lips. With great effort you drag your eyes away from the tempting oasis of his skin to sprawl along the sleek dark navy of his outer coat. The button up underneath is a stark crisp white, accenting the tan of his skin and drawing your gaze back inevitably to his revealed skin. The first few buttons of the dress shirt are undone and the stiff folded collar is laid open in a roguish carefree type fashion.

Since the fundraiser is more lowkey and relaxed, you don’t have the excuse to reprimand him for no tie, to demand he cover up that tease of skin and hint of peck muscles. No, you were doomed to suffer because the tailored pants did little to help either. The clean line of the material hugs his thighs, two long strong twin muscles that bunch a bit when he stands or sits down. You cross your legs as something heavy and hot settles in your core, startling you a bit out of the spell Bucky unknowingly put you under.

A bit desperately you try to find a fault, something to pick apart, some straggling imperfection to prove to yourself that you are uneffected by this man. And you quickly realize you can’t because when you look past his attire, the naked allure of his features takes you by storm. His hair is as rich as ever, styled lightly to allow the slight wave in the coffee locks the freedom to curl away from his forehead and settle in a small wave atop his head. Strong brows stand guard over the softness of his eyes, the glacial blue of the irises protected further by a swath of sooty lashes.The straight nose and full generous mouth sit atop a sturdy chin, a gentle cleft runs down the middle of it adding to his seemingly endless good looks. His jaw as you’ve observed many a time is as sharp and wicked as ever.

“You didn’t shave.”

The observation escapes your lips before you could wrangle it back behind the bars of your clenched teeth. Bucky’s eyes jump up at you like you had yelled at him instead of spoken in a normal tone. But its then you realize that it wasn’t a normal tone at all, it was, you...you spoke to him softly --

“Um no.” Bucky answers a bit uncertainly, not sure where you’re taking this. You never comment on his appearance or attire unless it’s to criticize it. He waits inevitably for the verbal lashing.

When the lashing doesn’t come and you both just continue to stare at each other in throbbing silence, Bucky feels awkwardness lay like a heavy blanket over you two. It’s almost startles him when he sees that you’re looking at him. And not just looking at him, but looking him in the eyes.

“It, It’s just a bit of stubble,” Bucky struggles out, trying to make any kind of sense of the current situation, “I thought since it’s going to be a more, um, relaxed atmosphere I could get away with it. I can go buy a razor and shave it off before we get there if you...want...”

Bucky mentally kicks himself for offering, I mean how pathetic. But the stumbling words were better than the silence because for some reason the silence felt different then usual, it felt dangerous.

“No, no,” You eventually say as your brain continues to churn itself into fluffy goo when Bucky shifts his phone and his bicep pushes up protestingly against the smooth sleeve of his tux. “It’s fine.”

Without another word you lock down the vulnerability you feel leaking onto the canvas of your face and shove your gaze back down to your phone.You will yourself not to blush.

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence. It’s the most exposed you’ve felt in a while, to say the least.

The fundraiser has been going like all of them do: clinically well. Bucky expects no less when you’re in attendance though. The dinner wasn’t the best he’s ever had but he made sure not to leave anything on his plate weary of wasting food. You sat perched and cool as ever beside him, engaging in the usual articulate oratory games with the clients and business partners seated at your large table.

Why Bucky kept expecting you to act different confuses him. He keeps waiting for something to change, for a small tiny hint that something has shifted in you, or maybe between you and him, he doesn’t know. Just something. And when you make him feel like a fool for assuming such a thing by acting the exact same way you always have, Bucky kicks himself. One weird conversation in the limo and he’s hoping for...hoping for what?

With an internal scoff he tunes back into the conversation, and just in time because you hand the topic reigns to him in that moment and suddenly Bucky is leading everybody into his own oratory arena.

You take a measured sip from your water glass as Bucky effortlessly accepts the responsibility of the conversation and takes it away. Being able to hold a conversation in a small meeting is one thing, but being able to lead an entire table of sponsors, clients, partners, and whoever else into complex discussion is quite another. You try not to let your pride produce too many butterflies in your stomach as you continue to sip your water and listen to the man beside you prove to you how very deserving he is of what you plan to give to him one day.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Bucky says as everyone starts getting up to dance when the live band plays something easy and fun for the guests. You turn towards him slightly in your seat and bring your glass down from your lips as an indication to speak. “May I go say hello to Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers?”

Your eyes zip over Bucky’s shoulder and land across the reception hall on the table where all your best employees are sitting laughing and enjoying themselves, some of them getting up to dance. For a quick beat you consider keeping Barnes all to yourself but know how selfish and petty that would be. You know Barnes is nearly sick of you.

“Please,” You relent as kindly and professionally as you can manage, motioning with your glass towards his friends, “Go enjoy.”

With a quick (if a little bitter) thank you, Barnes blasts away from you to join the merriment across the room. You heard the hint of potent distaste Barnes had having to ask your permission to leave your side and wonder if you’ve let yourself become to much of the monster you thought you had to be in order to be successful.

And maybe it’s not just to be successful, maybe you donned a monster’s skin to protect yourself.

You know that if you took away the pretty cool collected skin of that monster, a jagged scared furious soul would be revealed. A sigh and another sip of water is the only outward sign you give that broadcasts your constant inner turmoil.

“Damn! Wicked Bitch of the Best let you go? Impossible,” Nat croons as Bucky plops into the seat Sam offers him as he hurries out onto the dance floor with a chick from accounting.

“Ha ha very funny,” Bucky bites back as he relaxes down into the chair while pouring himself a brimming glass of champagne, chugging it all back in one go.

Steve, sitting on his other side, raises his eyebrow at his friend’s large shot, “I take it business is done for the night.”

Bucky places the glass flute down carefully on the tablecloth and rolls his lips in as he swallows.

“Yep,” Bucky breathes, catching his breath a little, “I believe ‘Please, go enjoy’ were her exact words.” He states in heavy sarcasm as he runs a hand through his hair, pouring himself another glass.

“How generous of her,” Nat allows before standing up and offering her hand down to Bucky, “And now something generous from me.”

Bucky eyes Nat’s hand suspiciously over the lip of his glass. Natasha was pretty nice (if she felt like it), but she never gave out freebies. He follows the line of her arm up to her severe beautiful face. He squints at the look in her eye.

“Dance with me,” She says with a roll of her eyes at his well placed suspicion, “It’s a thank you for covering my ass the other day even though I specifically told you not.” Natasha informs in jesting but fond reprimand.

Bucky smirks at her, appeased, and takes her hand.

“No complaints here then doll.”

Steve laughs as they zip off to the dance floor.

Watching Bucky with his friends, then dance with Ms. Romano -- with Natasha, that familiar haunting feeling that you know is loneliness begins to seep into your bones and saturate your soul. It’s loneliness that is so thick, so inexorable, you have trouble breathing. Trying not to make your movements too jerky as to call alarm you stand and make your way out of the hall. You’re intercepted a few times, making your final formal goodbyes and thanks, before heading out to the street.

You call your driver and have him take you back to the company.

It takes all your self control and dignity to keep from out right running to your floor. When you make it there about a century later, you burst into your moonlit office and shut off all the security cameras in it. That’s when you lose it.

With harsh tears running down your cheeks and ruining your make up you violently through yourself into your desk chair and start going through files of successful projects. You slowly but surely remind yourself why your doing this, why life has to be so hard. All the good you’re giving to the world is worth something, its worth this loneliness...it is.

It’s worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it...

You repeat this in your head as you continue to review years old projects and partnerships and lives that you have bettered. Though the tears and throat-wracking sobs never stop, you eventually convince yourself it’s enough.

Bucky was informed first thing this morning by the front desk that the security cameras in Ms. Y/l/n’s office were turned off at about 11:30pm last night and have not been turned back on. Seeing as it’s only you and Bucky who have the codes to do that, Bucky wasn’t too concerned because the other cameras proved it was you who had entered the office last night. Bucky wasn’t quite sure why you felt the need for that much privacy but he shook himself free of the disturbingly instinctual urge to care.

When he gets to the fogged-glass double doors and pulls on the sleek handles only to realize they’re locked, he hesitates in opening them with his copy of the key. Instead he finds himself knocking.

“Ms. Y/l/n?” He calls politely, professionally.

You jerk awake at your desk. Your head pounds with dehydration and the entire right side of your face is stiff and indented with red lines that make up about half of your keyboard. The desktop in front of you is asleep, the large black screen serves as a mirror to reflect to you your less than put together appearance.

Your make up is a crusting mess, your hair is sticking out every which way, and your eyes are about as puffy and red as Rudolph's nose.

“Ms. Y/l/n? Are you, are you alright?”

At the sound of Barnes’ voice on the otherside of the office doors, a horrible twisting flare of panic lights up in your gut. Trying to remain calm, you stand up only to collapse back down into the chair because one of your legs fell asleep.

“I’m fine Jam -- Barnes, just go do the morning rounds, please.” You stutter as you limp like Gollum (sans your heels from last night) across your pristine office to the private bathroom with a closet you keep extra clothes and things in.

Bucky is near speechless and knows something is wrong now. You almost called him James for one, and even more disturbing...you said please. He’s unsure if he should leave you in such an obviously confused state of mind, but figures he’d only earn himself a punishment if he intruded or was somehow wrong that you were indeed having a, a moment.

“I’ll be back in twenty to discuss the profits made last night.” Bucky found himself informing, not sure why he felt the need to give her a time to be ready by.

What an odd feeling to know that for once, you weren’t thirty steps ahead of him. It’s the first sign of humanity he’s seen you display and it’s tripping him out.

You listen carefully as his footsteps fade away down the hallway and you throw yourself into getting ready. Twenty minutes later Bucky knocks and you call him in. You can feel him analyzing you, looking around for something out of place, but you made sure to hide any evidence of a disturbance or weakness.

Bucky finds you pristine and cool and severe as ever, and he realizes that the sinking in his gut is disappointment. Not that he wants to see you struggling, but for a sign you are more than a robot. That you trust him enough to reveal at least that. But you carry on normal and cold and Bucky reminds himself again to stop searching for something that isn’t there.

“Oh god!” You shriek, you shriek, in surprise as you burst into a storage closet intent on finding an ink cartage (since you had Bucky in a minor meeting with the board, you know power delegation and all, and were more than capable of finding ink on your own dammit), and instead find Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter engaging in some...heavy petting.

The two of them share your immense shock and separate like oil in water, cheeks, ears, and necks red as roses. They both wait for you to do something, but you continue to stand there like it was you who was walked in on. Slowly you walk across the small room, thanking every god you could think of that the ink cartridges were on the opposite side of the space than Steve and Peggy were standing in, and retrieve your ink with their eyes guiltily following your every move.

Before you leave you heft a neutral glance over your shoulder and say,

“Rogers those charts better be in four, and Carter if I don’t have those reports in my inbox by the end of the day I’ll be very displeased.” And with your face safely turned back towards the hallway you say with a little smirk on your face, “Excuse the interruption.”

You hear the two collapse into hushed horrified laughter muffled behind the door as you strut back to your office with a poorly concealed smile on your face and the urge to giggle bottled up tight in your throat.

Barnes returns from the meeting with a muted breezy expression on his face which you’ve learned to interpret that meant things went well. You listen to him summarize the meeting for you while pretending to read one of the charts Rogers just sent you on your computer. The memory of finding them in the closet this afternoon hits you hard and you have to cough in order to stop the laugh bubbling along your throat and tickling your tongue.

Bucky pauses thinking your cough was a sign to stop talking, but when you glance side ways at him and raise an eyebrow he hurriedly continues on. It’s not until you both have settled at your respective desks across the room and Bucky gets up and heads to the printer stationed on a desk against the wall, that things start to head down hill.

It’s not until you notice him fiddling with the printer making grumbling sounds of obvious annoyance (which you don’t find adorable, you don’t) that you realize belatedly that you still hadn’t put in the new cartridge. Wordlessly you stand, grabbing the ink cartridge off your desk, and head over to the printer. Bucky moves over and watches you take out the empty cartridge and drop it in the waste bin by your feet. And when you take the new one out of its thin box and plastic wrapping, you feel your resistance to the hilarity you went through to get it quickly dissolve.

You stand frozen staring down at the ink for long enough that Bucky thinks you might not know how to put it in, even if you did just take out the old cartridge.

“Would you like me to do it?” He offers as neutrally as he can, getting all sorts of weird vibes from the expression that keeps flickering across your down turned face.

And you break.

It might have been Bucky’s words, or just the ink cartridge sitting oh so innocently in your palm, but it was most likely the vivid memory of walking in on Steve and Peggy. You start laughing. At first it’s under your breath, but the more you try to contain the sound the more out of your grasp it gets. You look up as your laughter gets more confident, brighter, and you find Bucky staring at you like you’ve finally lost it. Maybe you have because you burst into even louder laughter, the noise colorful and easy, falling into snickers when you need to breathe before returning with a cackling vengeance as you push the air back out.

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be disturbed or entranced. It hits him hard then that he’s never actually seen you laugh, or smile for that matter. And not a business smile but a real one, the one you’re giving him right now. He finds himself smiling to, grinning ear to ear as he watches you collapse into infectious gorgeous laughter.

“Oh god,” You wheeze as you try to mop up some of the tears from the corners of your eyes, but the words only remind you how you had shrieked them earlier and another peel of giggles wrings themselves out of you.

Bucky is utterly speechless. He’s in complete awe. The woman standing before him is alive and vibrant and laughing. So this is what he’s been hunting for inside that cruel robot all these years. This is who he’s unconsciously been holding out for. She’s real. She’s here with him finally.

“What,” Bucky stutters and loses his train of thought as you face him again and he’s left stupefied by the happiness in your face, how beautiful it makes you. I mean you were always beautiful, but in a cruel removed wave. Like you would eat him alive instead of grace him with a smile.

“It’s nothing,” You attempt to recover through another giggle, “I just intruded on some, some frivolity earlier.”

Bucky nods not satisfied in the least with just that, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting this woman to disappear behind a maze of masks to a place he can’t reach. But the inevitable happens and he watches, silently mournful, as the walls come back up and the monster’s skin is pulled back on. With a sniff you efficiently change the cartridge and turn away without another word, your scowl returned to the throne of your lips once more.

Part 2

And yes it’ll only be two parts...probably. lol. leave a comment in you wanna and your support is always appreciated! I promise to answer all my asks and respond to all my messages soon! xxx

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