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spectral-coyote · 9 months

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EVERY EDISON MENTION EVER

In RIP (Tesla) entries. any mention of Edison coming directly from Tesla as a ghost is of dubious quality of character.

However there is no reason to assume the flashback scenes are not accurate.

intended as a dialogue / characterization, reference / catalogue

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First mentioned in Entry 2 while Tesla is breaking light bulbs in the mansion

( Page 4 Lower right )

T: "YOU HEAR THAT EDISON?!?! PEOPLE THINK I'M SMART AND COOL AND I DID AMOUNT TO SOMETHING!!!"

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First appears in Entry 4 on a technicality

( Page 17 Lower left ) Appears in thought bubble flashback,

playing keep away with Tesla's Glasses.

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Debuts in Entry 5 in flashbacks.

( Page 1 Top left )

T: "Father, I am still unsure of this place... I don't know if studying here is what's best for my future." F: "Nonsense. You're fortunate to attend such a university. That Edison boy goes here, remember? He's turning out to be a well mannered young man!" T: "Yes, yes... I know you're very proud of him, Father"

( Page 5 All )

E: "Fell asleep in anatomy again, eh old friend? I can't believe you still think you're cut out for the sciences." T: "I'd be able to stay awake if I didn't have to work on all this law stuff too."

E: "Oh yes, the whole "double life" you lead to keep your old man in the dark. What do you even hope to accomplish?" T: "Well... maybe he'll change his mind if he sees what I can do with it." E: "And you'll tell him about all this... when exactly?" T: "I dunno, I'll figure it out"

E: "Well, look at the bright side (hehe), instead of being good at one thing, you can be mediocre at two things"

(bink)

E: "STOP IT!!!" (pff)

( Page 6 All ) no speaking lines, does pay attention to this interaction. ( transcript )

T: "Whats going on over there..."

T: "Is... everything alright, sir?" 1: "OI! Lad! Stay the fuck back, ya hear? Don't need ya bloody students ruinin my investagation!"

T: "Is... is that the groundskeeper?" 1: "Aye. The scoundrel fell from the roof. Drunken, if ya ask me"

T: "Did anyone see what happened? Was he pushed off?" 1: "Nobody fokin saw anything! Now let us professionals handl it, capiche?" 2: "Stay out of trouble, young man Don't want ta join him in the ground, do ya?"

( Page 7 Top left ) E: "Well, What a waste, I suppose." "Cmon Tesla" "Tesla" "Teslaaaaaa"

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Is mentioned negatively by Tesla in Entry 7

( Page 9 Top left and right )

T: "And the next day in zoology, that TERROR Edison dropped a wet rat kidney down the back of my shirt!!!" R: "You don't wear a shirt-" T: "That FIEND had me scrambling around like a maniac! Made a FOOL out of me in front of my whole class!"

T: "AND DID ANYONE BELIEVE ME?! NOOOOOOO" T:"Our beloved little Edison is a SAINT. He's a PRODIGY. He'd never do anything wrong! Edison's set to be the next ARCHIMEDES, YA HEAR ME?! I CAN!!! I CAN DR BELL!!!!"

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Entry 10 Appears in flashbacks and mentions

( Page 1 All )

E: "Coppers still out there?" E: "Can't believe some chump would steal a whole body. What's to gain from that anyway?"

E: "Planck saw them this morning. Says it was ol' Rag." E: "Yknow, the groundskeeper?" E: "I'M thinks it's whoever shoved him" E: "Maybe covering their tracks?" E: "What say you, Tez?"

E: "TESLA." T: "'UWAHGHHG"

( Page 2 All )

E: "Hmm, just looks kinda scuffed." E: "Nothing too serious. You're lucky you didn't crack."

T: "This is stupid, I didn't fall that hard." E: "What can I say? Clumsiness and glass bodies don't mix. Just ask my 1000 older brothers. Don't think a single one of them avoided a flaw." T: "Except you." E: "Except me~"

E: "Some people just have to work harder in life. To take care of themself. To succeed To be recognized." T: "You don't seem to be working hard."

E: "Oh? Have you forgotten the effort I put into putting up with you?" T: "Knock it off"

( Page 3 Top left )

T: "AGGGgfHGGGH-GHHJSGSH" T: "ED-ED-ED-ED-"

( Page 10 All )

( Page 11 All )

( Page 17 Bottom right )

F: "UGH You really are so flippant and undisciplined!" F: "You should be more like that Edison boy!" F: "He's diligent! Working towards a useful career in science like his father! Not just shocking rats for the hell of it." F: "Stick to your proper studies, boy."

( Page 25 All )

E: "Ohhh Tesla~" E: "Guess who was picked up for mentoring my Dr. Bell~" E: "Me." E: "Obviously"

E: "I was expec-"

E: "Things... will get better someday..."

( Page 28 All )

EDISON 1880 - 1962 inventor, innovator, bringer of light in a dark world

T: "Oh..." T: "He's dead now" R: "Who's this pikmin looking fuck?"

R: "Edison. That's the big tech company, isn't it?" T: "I suppose I always assumed would be by now but." T: "Huh."

( Page 29 All )

T: "GWAAAHHAAHAGAHAG" T: "WHO'S SO PERFECT NOW HUH?!?!?!" (CRACK)

T: "ALL THAT TIME BEIN LAZY IN THE GROUND HUH???? SLACKING OFF?!?! WELL I'VE BEEN WORKING!!!! I'VE DONE SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU EVER COULD !!!!"

T: "WHEN I'M BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE, I'M GONNA REVIVE YOU FIRST!!!!!" T: "THAT WAY YOU'LL SEE HOW MUCH IVE SURPASSED YOU!!!!!!"

R: (Hot damn...) T: "Gehhehhh,,, ehhhehhh,,,"

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Entry 11 Google search Edison speech + Offhanded Tesla mention

( Page 1 All )

Conspircy Google: [tesla scientist] [search] [dont search]

INTERVIEW WITH RENOWNED SCIENTIST EDISON ABOUT MISTAKES AND FAILURES WILL INSPIRE YOU "Failure is not an end. It never should be seen as a finality. By failing, you learn what doesn't work. You must keep that mindset, for no inventor succeeds without learning first the wrong way to do so. Without this mindset, you only fail yourself. You'll always do wrong in your eyes. I've personally witnessed how it destroys someone. I've seen good friends become their own worst enemy. A colleague of mine... [LINK]

C: "Goddammit"

C: "Yeah yeah, biased filtered search engine company. your founder really is an amazing fantastic guy." C: "But I need to know about TESLA. Yknow? The mad scientist ghost that's beat the shit out of me twice?"

C: All readings I've gotten indicate they're a proper post mortem manifestation. C: If i can find out who they were when they were alive, I might know how to stop them!"

Conspircy Google: [tesla 1900s -edison] [search] []

C: "That's them! They were a student at the university before the science department shut down!"

C: "They must've been involved with it... This lack of info may be a coverup of some kind!"

( Page 15 Lower left )

T: GodAMMIT That richy pants stuck up snob just has to keep doing things better than me like having money!!!! ( fuck you, Tezzy~ )

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Alluded to in Entry 13

( Page 11 Top left ( Part 1 ) ) RESTRICTED EDISON CORP

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Entry 14 mentioned

( Page 19 Lower right )

PNC: "HEY TESLA, THAT EDISON GUY WAS BETTER THAN YOU"

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Entry 15 Appears in Tesla's memory

( Page 8 All )

T: "See, I really think there's potential here! I don't know why I can't reproduce these results with just any old electricity, but there's been physical responses!"

DDS: "YO TESLA WAKE THE FUCK UP," E: "Oh Tesla, ANYONE can stimulate muscles with electricity" T: It's not like that! I really think it's life! Even for brief moments there seems to be... recollection!"

Rain: "They're stuck in the memory" Parade: "Silly boy"

E: "These are just rats Tesla, It's not like you could bring back the complexity of a PERSON'S brain" T: "AHAH, well we wouldn't know without testing on a person! Which we can't do and hasn't happened at all"

( Page 9 Top ) T: "Maybe Edison is right... after all, there's NO way I could test on people long term! Surely people would notice more bodies disappearing from the morgue But there's no way I could get permission to work with cadavers"

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Entry 16 Mentioned and shown in Tesla story time "flashbacks"

( Page 9 Lower right )

P: "Awww you never celebrated your birthday???? We can celebrate all of them now!! But we would need many candles. Many many many many-" T: "No! It just wasn't something my family did! Except for my older brother's birthday. but I barely knew him. And I think my father sent Edison money for his, but-"

( Page 12 Top left )

E: "Tesla! Your old man is here!"

( Page 14 Lower two )

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Entry 16 (Secret) Flashback. vaguely implied to be a missing memory from Tesla, however this one is reliable.

Panel limit killed me but read this one its the Edison one he is in ALL OF THE PANELS

( Transcribed for fun/ref)

( Page 1 )

(CREAKKK) E: "Tesla?"

E: "Tesla. This lab is off limits" E: "Why are you up here so..." ( Page 2 )

E: "..." E: "What have you done?"

T: "Hey! Hey hey!" T: "It's alright! Really! They- they're going to be okay!"

E: "They're DEAD Tesla... Oh my god, all these people are dead..." T: "JUST FOR NOW!!! Once my research is complete they'll all be brought back!"

E: "Do you think this is a game or something?! You KILLED these people!" T: "Only some of them!" E: "And for what? A wild dream? You can't bring people back from the dead!"

( Page 3 )

T: "But I WILL bring them back!!! Do you HONESTLY think I would do something like this if I wasn't SURE it would work?!?! How irresponsible do you think I am?!"

T: "I admit!!! I was on the wrong track before!" T: "Working with RATS, what a waste of time!" T: "I ALREADY KNEW attempting to revive people got some sort of results!" T: "I just needed more subjects! To rule out time of death as a factor!" T: "I just need to find the PRECISE voltage!"

T: "Here! Here1 I'll prove it to you! Watch this! I can bring them back, even just partially!" E: "TESLA!"

E: "You're not WELL, Tesla" E: "We need to get you help"

( Page 4 )

T: "You think I'm crazy?!" E: "No! I think you're under a lot of pressure!" E: "Whatever you're feeling, it doesn't make THIS worth it" E: "Just calm down and come with me"

T: "Y... you just have to be BETTER than me, huh?!?!" T: "You can't STAND the idea that I might be on the verge of something GREAT!" T: "Suddenly our little prodigy the light of our future..." T: "Suddenly HE'S playing second fiddle to someone who can REVERSE DEATH ITSELF!!!"

E: "THIS ISN'T ABOUT PRIDE, TESLA!!!" T: "IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN WITH YOU!!!" T: "SOME LIGHT YOU ARE!!! YOU'VE DONE NOTHING BUT CAST A CONSTANT SHADOW OVER MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS"

T: "And the worst part of it all!!!! You ALWAYS pretended to be my friend!!!!! It feels great, doesn't it?!?! Showing the failure you grind under your own heel PITY!!!"

( Page 5 )

E: "TESLA! GET OFF OF ME" T: "YOU CAN'T TELL ANYONE OF THIS!!!! YOU CAN'T RUIN MY RESEARCH!!!!!"

E: "YOU NEED HELP, TESLA!!!" E: "I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!"

E: "YOURE GOING TO RUIN YOUR LIFE!!!"

( Page 6)

T: "IT'S MY LIFE TO RUIN!!!!!!!!"

(CRACK)

(other panels wordless)

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Entry 17

( Page 1 Top left ) ( & Laptop logo )

( Page 2 Top left )

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Entry 18

( Panel 6 Part 1 All ) ( Classified dialogue omitted for clarity, not important to Edison)

T: "Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the legal work regarding our renovations is dealt with, and we'll be beginning construction here rather soon!"

T: "Our majority shareholder for the last century, Edison Corp, has staunchly refused the reopening of these facilities on account of their late founder discovering these labs were being used for ""an absolutely frightful purpose.""

T: "Said purpose he claimed was making a makeshift tango dance studio. Supposedly he was really against it for some reason I guess."

T: "But this year the company has finally sold their shares, giving us complete agency over the use of the building"

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#manmade horrors #manmade horrors osc #edison mmh

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ichayalovesyou · 2 years

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(Re)Discovering A Strange New Spock: “The Conscience of A King” (1x13)

Previous: The Menagerie I & II

A meta anthology where I re-examine TOS, especially Spock, in light of the new information Discovery & Strange New Worlds has revealed about him to us.

Onto the Analysis!

Kirk’s Trust: Shaken, Sense of Justice: Evolving

Lately, between the events of “Dagger of The Mind” and “The Menagerie” Kirk has been grappling with his sense of justice quite a lot. He’s seen that the Federation’s penal system is not immune to flaw and corruption. Nor court procedures foolproof or sentencing cut and dry.

As a result of this Kirk’s trust in Starfleet’s ability to handle matters of internal justice has been not broken, but given a shake. He pulls one of his more maverick moves in deciding to figure out whether Karidian is Kodos personally before handing the matter to Starfleet.

Another key to Jim’s sense of stability has been bruised too, his trust in Spock. Again, something that hasn’t been broken, after all things did turn out okay in the end of The Menagerie. Still, I can imagine he might feel a bit betrayed that Spock decided to not trust Jim, before Jim had a chance to trust Spock first.

After such a difficult string of events, when faced with ghosts from his past, he feels alone. Doing unto Spock as he may subconsciously feel Spock did onto him, not trusting Spock first before Spock could trust him. As we know, things seldom go well when trust between these two is broken.

The Script is Flipped: Jim Shuts Spock Out

Spock is no fool, I’m sure he spotted the Kodos-Karidian photo comparison Kirk was doing. Before Kirk directed the subject to a logical assessment of his friend’s disposition (who had seen Kodos in Karidian first, and will be murdered for it).

Not only that but Jim is uncharacteristically breaking from the mission. Expressing interest in a young woman that he can observe is more than mere attraction. When he makes a logical explanations for Kirk’s seemingly irrational actions, Kirk gets snippy, yet again unusual.

What does Spock do in light of this upsetting behavior? Go to Bones for council and comfort of course! (Not that it’s particularly helpful in this case, lol)

Dubious Benefits

Again Spock being a snarky ass, “my father’s race was spared the dubious benefits of alcohol” which doesn’t necessarily mean HE can’t get drunk. t’s just his long winded way of saying “No.”

It makes me think of Pike saying the more things change the more they stay the same after the “I do not drink coffee, I do drink tea” instance in A Quality of Mercy.

Unfortunately for Spock, McCoy is too busy trying to charm Spock into drinking with him. Almost as if learning that Spock is as prey to his emotions as anyone else (thanks to The Menagerie) made him like the guy that much more.

I find it interesting that Spock yet again turns to Bones after learning the full gravity of the situation. Taking matters into his own hands by personally looking into Jim’s history with Tarsus IV, Kodos, Jim’s deceased friend, and Lt. Riley.

It also confirms that Jim was wrong not to trust his friends from the jump. Spock makes it abundantly clear he trusts and agrees with Jim in light of the new information to Bones.

Jim Over Riley: Bending Personal Values

Now we all know Spock is not one to openly express compassion. However, something that struck me as unusually cold and telling of where his concern lies was his reaction to the attempted murder of Lt. Riley.

He is preoccupied with Jim being in more danger, he tells McCoy he has to pull Riley through or Jim will be the next target for murder. Not for Riley’s own benefit, or for the possibility of Riley being able to tell them who his attacker was, but Jim’s safety.

Logically the ship needs all it’s crew, it’s Captain no more or less valuable a life than anyone else's. Both Riley and Kirk are in grave danger, one man being in the same amount of increased danger if the other should die.

But could we really say Spock would’ve said the same thing concerning Riley if Jim had been the one in that biobed? I’m not sure. Considering this won’t be the last time Spock bends his Vulcan moralizing on the needs of the many and the sacredness of all life to protect Kirk, I’m leaning toward no.

Triumvirate Intervention

This is Jim and Spock’s first real spat since Where No Man Has Gone Before. Spock’s priority continues to be Jim’s safety. On, albeit merited, circumstantial evidence Spock is willing to conclude Karidian is Kodos. When the evidence suggests more so that someone is attempting to kill The Tarsus Nine. Which is the missing piece that falls into place in the final act.

Spock is usually a man of hard facts, curiosity, and skepticism. He also tends to hold resentment for snap judgements based on circumstance. Yet when Jim’s life is on the line, Spock abandons his scientific approach and becomes tactician and bodyguard instead.

Jim is consumed by mistrust and old wounds, fighting a desire for recompense. Spock is too consumed with a desire to protect Jim from immediate danger to consider the logical consequences or moral implications of Kodos’s apparent presence.

As a result, Bones and Spock practically switch roles in this circumstance. He becomes the voice of reason in an unusual instance where Spock is more influenced by emotion than he is.

Bones is the one to point out the non-zero possibility Riley’s injury could’ve been accidental. He’s the one to point out to Jim that Spock is only doing his job to stop their arguing. He’s the one who questions the emotionalism behind Jim’s actions.

McCoy is the one to point out the consequences if Jim plays judge, jury, and executioner with Karidian/Kodos’s life. Knowing full well that even if Karidian is Kodos (“he is”) that his death is not only not their decision/jurisdiction, nor would it make Jim feel any better.

For the first time in the series, Bones sounds more like Spock than Spock does. Normally Kirk is Ethos, Spock is Logos and Bones is Pathos. However, in this dangerous and unusual circumstances the roles have changed.

Kirk has become Pathos due to the matter being extremely personal. Spock has become Ethos to prioritize protecting Jim. Bones has become Logos to protect them from themselves, reminding them the consequences of brash action.

The End of Kodos the Executioner

Not gonna lie, this is definitely one of those episodes where I’m “are they gonna be like… okay?” and the show goes “mind ya business!” Because I mean… oof.

Kodos’s punishment seems to have been his daughter flying off the handle and becoming a serial killer for his sake. Eliminating those who would be able to identify him and accuse him (rightfully) of genocide with any sort of weight. By omitting his past to her, by believing he did the right thing, he broke the one “pure” thing in his world.

Yet Kodos dies saving Kirk from his own daughter, after Kirk keeps Riley from killing Kodos. Jim stood by his better angels to allow Kodos to face justice(?) elsewhere. Albeit that elsewhere ended up being on stage in front of half the ship’s crew.

Spock has nothing to say to Jim at the end of this one, which I find odd and perhaps telling. Maybe Spock in this instance is avoiding talking to Jim because of how deeply personal of an affair that was for him. Boy, do we know how Spock and Kirk love to clam up about personal affairs.

Perhaps Spock avoids Jim also due to being ashamed and confused that his emotions overpowered his objectivity once again due to his affection for Jim.

McCoy is the only one willing to speak up, giving Jim emotional comfort. Telling him subtly that he made the right choices and did the best he could by mentioning the silver linings regarding Lenore.

He tells Jim that Lenore is receiving proper psychiatric treatment and she’s repressing the horrific incident for the time being. He also goads Jim into being reminded he didn’t treat Lenore coldly or as means for catharsis. Although I'm not entirely sure that's true, it's not like it wouldn't have been justified. Reminding him he didn't falter and give in to revenge regarding Kodos either.

Nobody can change or fix what happened, but you can count on Bones to put an emotional balm on the situation.

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mariamariquinha · 1 year

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What's behind...

Well, it's been a while since I wanted to bring this kind of "trivia" about the things I write here.

Music has always been with me as an emotional and life support - basically everything I do involves music. I love it. With my stories, it's no different; each thing takes shape through other stories that the songs I listen to tell or represent.

Today I start with this small project for my multi-chapter stories, Versos de Placer and Bossa Nova. In the future, when I start writing more, I can keep doing it.

Let’s go, then?

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Bossa Nova - Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon

Being a minor character in a B-movie of very dubious quality, writing for Benny is always an adventure, but at the same time a great writing exercise tool (for those who like that approach) or even pure and simple creativity. I like to say the benefit of writing for him is having the one and only physical sketch that Maurice Compte brought us, which was awesome because the guy knows how to be pretty as fuck.

ANYWAY

Bossa Nova was planned a little more closely than Versos de Placer, so even the title was chosen from a meticulous perspective of a Brazilian musical rhythm - with meaning. I've already explained this here, so I won't extend myself and go straight to the structure of the story haha

THE DIVORCE:

The moment that kicks off the whole story is the main character's divorce. There was a past and an established relationship between everyone, but the trigger for everything we've been doing since then comes from that moment of separation.

The reader and Theo, her ex-husband, had a crisis through cheating. Therefore, this plot was thought with a song in mind:

DREAMS - FLEETWOOD MAC

I think it's common sense that the Fleetwood Mac drama yielded that impeccable album called Rumors and ‘Dreams’ is my favorite song by far - theirs, of course, because there's so much fucking artistic pain in there.

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom Well, who am I to keep you down?

Players only love you when they're playing

Theodore was the antagonist due to a classic but no less painful situation, which opened wounds that the reader disassociates, but that she feels. Parents don't know about suffering; the brother, limited to a minuscule fraction of the divorce bureaucracy. She knows that, deep down, Theo became empty and selfish enough to find what he wanted, when he wanted it, no matter what it could cost him, and hopes that he will be frustrated in the end (overcoming? I don't know her). ‘Dreams’, for me, is the biggest representation of someone mourning towards a person they loved but couldn’t have because, in the end, this someone choose to be with another someone. Tell them, Stevie. Tell them!

FEMALE ENERGY PART. 2 - WILLOW

BEING HERSELF AGAIN:

In another, slightly older post, I mentioned how I constructed father-daughter relationships differently in my two "biggest" stories, and that applies a lot with this aspect in particular. In both cases, I explored something that is personal to me, which is my relationship with the men I live with in life - I work in a predominantly male place, a father who is present but a difficult family history in this regard. Here, I think it's important to use such relationships to demystify the woman built under what she lives with a man.

The Bossa Nova reader is not as close to her mother as she is to her father; this dynamic will often interfere with her future relationships, from what to expect from a man to living with other women. When she loses Theodore, she finds herself alone. The father would not understand her like the mother, but how to talk to this figure who has always been partially distant?

Oh, and I'm falling into the arms of naked truth Not surprised to see the sky and know what I must do

I am human, I am woman Drifting down my life

The changes she has been going through include facing her own nature and looking for all the personality hidden in a failed relationship. We still have a lot to explore here, but I value that heartfelt, honest parallel as we build a background romantic drama.

BILLIE BOSSA NOVA - BILLIE EILISH

THE FIRST DATE:

Oh yeah, yeah, I’ll be the devil’s advocate here and give credit to a white girlie using a latin rythym to make money. SORRY. The song is a banger tho, I like Billie.

That’s basically the beggining (where we are now btw) of Benny and reader’s relationship. No one wants to prove anything or have high expectations - it came naturally and they linked right away. A few drinks, a kiss below a lamp post, a football game and sex. Everyone could do that. Makes sense for me.

'Cause waitin' for it gets so borin' A lot can change in twenty seconds A lot can happen in the dark

I'm not sentimental But there's somethin' 'bout the way you look tonight, mm Makes me wanna take a picture Make a movie with you that we'd have to hide

For me it’s the basics of: hey, found you really attractive, let’s fuck. In a way, they both don’t want complications and happens that Benny and reader can provide that to each other. I wouldn’t say they are 100% in tune, but they both agree that they should do what they should because there’s nothing better than a few orgasms.

FADE INTO YOU - MAZZY STAR

THE FIRST TIME:

This song was mentioned in the last chapter of Bossa Nova and it wasn’t just because.

I look to you and I see nothing I look to you to see the truth

Some kind of night into your darkness Colors your eyes with what's not there

I think that's something we'll explore in the future, but there was a reason Benny was wary of the reader in her house and genuinely indulged in lying on the floor with her to relax. I hate being that playful type of person who puts metaphors into everything because sometimes life is life, but they both knew it wasn't going to be, generally speaking, a grab and go thing. It's the beginning of opposition to what they think will be that 'convenient meeting', even if they don't know it yet. She knew him, but she didn't know who he was; the same happens with Benny. In the living room, the two of them are discovering themselves and understanding that to get where they wanted, they would have to find a balance point, something that would erase a more difficult reality for a moment of satisfaction.

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P.S.

It's a little early to bring more of this, we have a way to go, but I think it's worth sharing this kind of creative dynamic to help set a good narrative tone and involve those who follow the story.

I want to take this opportunity and thank everyone who has been giving me this strength here, as well as congratulating all the fanfic writers who keep sharing incredible stories with dedication and affection. You are amazing! ❤

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No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@nerdyreaderpapi

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@the-hinky-panda

@mysoulisasunflower

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon fic #benny borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves #den of thieves fic #maurice compte #female reader

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faroreswinds · 2 years

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Final Thoughts - Three Hopes Scarlet Blaze

As I finally wrap my my playthrough of Scarlet Blaze after nearly 90+ hours of gameplay, including recording my playthrough as well as grinding supports, S ranks on missions, and so on, I figured it would be wise to jot down my final thoughts on the route’s writing as a whole, since that’s what I am primarily interested in. This is going to be generally informal, since I don’t have the energy nor the desire to write a 50 page thesis on the qualities (or lack of) of this route befitting a publication.

It’s still a long one though, so be ready.

As a quick note, there are some lore inconsistencies between the two games, Houses and Hopes, but this review will not touch on those issues very much. I may occasionally bring something up as I feel is needed, but overall, I will try to review Hopes as its own entity.

------

First of all, Scarlet Blaze is a much better route for Edelgard when it comes to quality versus Crimson Flower. Not that that is a great accomplishment, mind you. Crimson Flower is a general disaster in many ways, but Scarlet Blaze’s first third of the game is honestly competent.

But not perfect.

The first 4 chapters of the route are actually excellent, provided you come off of Three Houses with some general knowledge of Foldan and the lore. Although these chapters are told at nearly neck-breaking speed and skips over a lot of world building that Houses had done in its academy phase, as mentioned earlier when you come off of Houses it’s not really as necessary for this story and it helps to get to a new story that doesn’t force the player on a repeat of White Clouds. Scarlet Blaze instantly establishes Edelgard as a young woman with intelligence and agency on her own path, while also willingly using dubious methods to get to her war. Using the Church’s forces to help her cast out the Slithers from her Palace, only to turn on them later 2 years down the road, using Jeritza to rescue Monica but being sneaky with her commands to him. She left out Ferdinand, Bernadetta, Caspar, and Linhardt from her plans to invade the Palace since their fathers were involved in the Insurrection years ago. These are all logical actions, if not a bit callous at times, that establish her as a strong female character with the desire to make changes in the world.

The foundation of her war is more streamlined and concrete here too. Crests are often mentioned but they take a major backstep to most of the story. People have Crests, true, but the focus here is more on bloodlines in general, and the Church’s doctrine being something Edelgard finds to be the biggest problem. Her war is declared on the Central Church for being corrupt, and for causing the Empire to break up all those years ago. Using Count Varley to set up the Southern Church as a means to undermine the legitimacy of the Central Church not only weakens the Central Church’s power, but also delegitimizes both the Kingdom and the Alliance’s existences. Both nations have no choice but to either bend a knee to her, or fight. Diplomacy only matters here if Edelgard gets her way. It’s legit brilliant. We then follow Edelgard to taking down the Garreg Mach, and sending Rhea on the run to the Kingdom.

Probably the only issue I have with the first 4 chapters is that Scarlet Blaze sidesteps Ionius as a character, who is present in Houses but is not present here at all. If you haven’t played Houses, though, this isn’t as big of a deal as Hopes makes it clear that Ferdinand’s father is the real power now, but Houses informs you that Ionius is still on the throne technically. This makes Edelgard’s grab for power seem a little odd in context then, because Ionius is not part of the process at all here, unlike in Houses. But this is a minor issue.

The pace of the story slows down at this point, but this is where the writing starts to fall off a bit, unfortunately. I am not kidding when I say the next chapters till chapter 9 is just Edelgard putting out fires. This is meant to be the conqueror route, but we spend a lot of time rescuing lords that are in tough spots, either due to general war strategies or due to a lord’s own personal vendetta. Chapter 5 has us going to rescue Lord Lonato, because he hates Rhea for killing his son and sees her fleeing to the Kingdom as a chance to kill her. The reasoning for rescuing Lonato is not because he is some great person, but because we need to prove to other Empire vassals that the Emperor has their back... apparently no matter their folly. Lonato has done something pretty dangerous in regards to the war efforts, yet Edelgard is more worried about the Empire’s image for those who want to switch sides. This is not a bad reason per say, but it does feel a bit jarring and frankly, boring.

The next part of the story is rescuing Count Bergliez from Claude’s scheme that nearly has him killed, and I’m not kidding when I say the rescue effort takes two chapters. This by itself would not be a problem, but the route is only 15 chapters (17 if you include the secret chapters), and we are already on chapter 7 and it feels like nothing has happened since chapter 4. So wasting two chapters for what is honestly a single big event seems like a chapter was just thrown away, especially since we had to already rescue another Lord prior and this is meant to be the conqueror route. Claude ends up kind of looking like an idiot here rather than a tactical genius, despite all the peacocking the characters do to praise his vast intelligence.

Chapter 8 is still fairly boring because, once again, it is a rescue mission, this time for Count Rowe and for the dominion over the Silver Maiden, a large fortress of great strategic importance. Just like Lord Lonato, there is no love loss for Count Rowe. He is a slimy bastard who will change alliances as easily as one changes their hat. He can even turn on you if Gwendal, his knight, is defeated before you can reach them, where they become enemies instead. Again, the importance here isn’t that we are rescuing a great man, but rather proving that the Emperor has everyone’s back, as well as preventing the fall of an important fortress. None of these men are well established from Houses, or even given any screen time from that game at all, so as a player we know very little about them and have no attachment to them either. It feels like we are rescuing nobodies, even if these characters have unique models and portraits.

It would be interesting if Scarlet Blaze had something to say about keeping all these traitorous men safe under the Empire’s care, as a sort of “we have to do what we have to do in war, no matter how wrong it may be or if these people are worthy of our protection or not”. But it frames these rescues as less of a necessary evil, and rather instead as something noble. Edelgard is saddened by the lost of Count Rowe if he dies, because she is saddened that there was so much death due to the battle, rather than something that was ultimately his own fault because he turns on her. It seems the route is doing everything in its power to underplay exactly what Edelgard is doing.

Some of the supports do briefly, oh so briefly, touch on her actions. Her support with Jertiza and Monica are the better examples of this. With Jertiza, it is revealed that they have a contract with each other, which provides Edelgard with a stone cold killer called the Death Knight, who kills anyone and everyone. In Houses, the Death Knight wandered the streets, killing innocents. In Hopes, he seems a bit more reigned in, and they only focus on a single crime- killing his family. Edelgard is more than happy to have this killer’s services because they suit her needs, and even informs Jertiza that she would not mind sweeping his crimes under the rug due to his killing services.

And with Monica, she admits openly to Monica that she only rescued her because it was beneficial at the time to, and not because it was to rescue a loyal vassal or a friend.

Both of these actions are cold, calculating actions, dubious in nature. This would be great, if the writing did anything with them. But the route is more interested in spinning these situations into something positive. Jertiza tells Edelgard he wants to go to jail for his crimes, and she says he will let him, since everyone should “choose their own destiny”. And with Monica, Monica is such a simp that she just comes away from the conversation praising Edelgard for all her glory, unbothered by the fact Edelgard was willing to sacrifice her if it meant it would lead to her future.

It’s not just in the supports that we see this: this happens throughout the route too. I am not kidding when I say that Scarlet Blaze suffers from the same tonal issues as Crimson Flower when it comes to the cast recognizing exactly what they are doing. Most of the characters lay blame on the opposing forces for what happens in the war- Ferdinand remarks that the people’s fears are in the people’s heads when it comes to the Empire, seemingly forgetting that they are the ones instigating the war. Caspar is legitimately bloodthirsty, and even at one point during a camp dialogue, you can “share in his bloodlust”. Many of the characters “wish for peace” but seem unaware they broke the peace to begin with. Only Dorothea makes a comment that they are the ones who instigated the war and no one wants to be taken over and lose their way of life. Linhardt makes some comments about how he just wants it all to be over and for Edelgard to just stop her war. And Arval has to remind Shez that they are the aggressors.

The GD crew seem pretty unbothered overall to be on the Empire’s side. In fact, SB makes a point to show that the GD are only really there because someone else kind of told them to, but they would also as quickly turn on the Alliance due to one reason or another (to the point that even Claude makes a comment on it).They care less about being on the side of the Empire, and more about being in a war. But Ashe and Mercedes, the only two recruitable Lions, seem either nearly suicidal about their choice to defect (Ashe), or are unsure if they should be there at all (Mercedes). Especially since Ingrid must die in Chapter 8, which really sends Ashe down into a deep depression.

And to be frank, Ingrid dying and Dimitri mourning her death was the most interesting and heartfelt part of Chapter 8, and for the route up to this point. There could have been something more here, with Edelgard’s traumatic past or something. But Edelgard’s past is rarely brought up, and rarely plays a role in anything at all... just like in Houses, really.

Edelgard’s horrific past, the experiments she suffered, the loss of her siblings, etc... none of that really matters here. It is occasionally brought up from time to time as a off handed remark. It is also brought a bit more to light in a paralogue, which requires that you recruit no less than two different people in order to even access it. But in either of these cases, we never actually learn about what exactly Edelgard went through. She never discusses her siblings and how her new future is for them as well. If it didn’t connect her to the Slithers, it might as well not even be there at all.

Moving on, chapter 9 is finally when the story gets interesting again, because this is the chapter where Shamir and Catherine, on the behalf of the Central Church, raid the Palace to assassinate Edelgard in Enbarr. One thing I really liked about this chapter is that a few NPCs note that, back in Enbarr, life is pretty normal. In fact, people are generally cheery there, because they cannot image a world where the their Empire will lose, and they do not have to worry about the realities of war hitting their doorstep.

I like that they mention this, but I don’t think that it leads anywhere. It’s a great touch because it shows how the aggressors see most of their people leading normal, untouched lives, but there is a war being waged by them onto the innocents of other nations. It’s almost a nod to the dark reality of this route, without allowing it to actually be impact. Which is a shame, really.

The chapter ends after thwarting the assassination attempt on Edelgard’s life and Ferdinand’s father escape from his imprisonment, and then the game goes into a time skip of about six months. During this time, the war was apparently at a stand-still, and our characters did not fight in any battles during this time. We open up into Part 2 with Edelgard and Claude coming to an agreement and fighting the Kingdom together.

If you have been following my notes during my playthrough, you may have noticed I found this story beat to be particularly baffling. Claude makes no indication or clue that he had any inclination to join with Edelgard prior to the time skip, and we do not get to experience or witness the build up to this rather important moment. This is actually a pretty big deal, for two sides to join together to fight the third, and yet, it kind of comes from out of nowhere. Even if you have played Houses, this comes out of left field. Claude in Houses never attempts to join with Edelgard, even if he claims they share some ideals, and will even fight to the death in one path (and can only live at the mercy of Byleth or Edelgard).

Not only that, but this is when the story starts to feel like a real conquest route for about 2 chapters (chapters 10 and 11), and you start to feel pretty bad for the Kingdom. It is revealed that the Kingdom had finally brought some peace to what lands they have left, and now the Alliance and the Empire are marching on their borders again.

As we move into Chapter 10, this is when you can either kill Jeralt or spare him to recruit Byleth. The method to do so is somewhat tricky, although not entirely impossible, and it leads to two different outcomes and story beats for Scarlet Blaze. As I talk about them, I will refer to the “recruited Byleth path” as Path A, and “killed Jeralt” as Path B from this point on.

Path B has you killing Jeralt, as I mentioned before, which had somewhat been Shez’s goal throughout the route. I had not really brought it up yet in this review, so this is a good time to briefly discuss Shez, Arval, and their roles in this story up to this point.

Shez is the new protagonist of Hopes, replacing Byleth in this role. Byleth is instead relegated to somewhat of an antagonist. At the start of the game, Shez and Byleth come to a head about a year prior to the start of when Houses would have occurred, where Shez’s mercenary group and Byleth’s mercenary group were hired pretty much against each other. Unfortunately for Shez, Byleth is the stronger mercenary, killing everyone in Shez’s group and nearly killing Shez as well. Shez only survived due to the awakening of Arval, whom I will discuss in a moment. The two fight before Byleth and co leave.

It is due to Arval’s timely save that allows Shez to meet the lords a year later, ultimately changing the story that we know from Houses into the one we see in Hopes. Shez prevents the lords from meeting Byleth, killed Kostas, which allowed the other bandits to flee to a different base than in Houses, which in turn prompted Edelgard to rescue Monica. This allowed Edelgard to out the Slithers from hiding, including in Enbarr, and thus, the war started a year later than it does in the original game.

Shez himself as as a character (I chose the male avatar) seems technically more interesting than Byleth, on the basis that he actually talks. He speaks to other characters, raises concerns or praise, and it more than just a blank piece of paper for characters to bounce off of. To many, this is an improvement off of Byleth, who never actually speaks in the game.

However, I cannot give Shez a lot of praise overall. Shez is basically a shonen protagonist, in that his only real qualities as a character is being upbeat, giving the right advice at nearly all times, being an idiot at other times, being nearly beloved by everyone, and being as flexible as whatever support or story beat needs him to be. His biggest talking point in his supports is how he was raised by a woman who was not his biological mother, which is another point I will circle back to later.

As a character, Shez can be all over the place. In one support with Lysithea, it is revealed that he is bad with words, so he has memorized lines to give to people when the moment calls for them. This is particularly strange, though, because he never does this in any other support, being frank and honest in his thoughts at nearly all times. It exists in this one, single support chain, and never anywhere else.

In other words, Shez is basic, and therefore uninteresting. He is basically just as much along for the ride as Byleth was, except that the story doesn’t entirely hang upon him nearly as much as Houses did to Byleth. His redeeming quality that does making him interesting, however, is Arval.

Shez is meant to be the antithesis of Byleth in every meaning of the word, and as such, also as a child-like, sassy and snarky being living in his head, giving him advice or talking to him in general. This is Arval, a boy-ish entity that has some connection to Those Who Slither In The Dark, a secret the game makes no attempt to hide at all. In fact, from chapter 3 or 4, the game practically outright tells you Arval is associated with the Slithers to a degree. It’s less a plot twist, and more a giant neon arrow blinking “GET IT” right in your face. In my opinion, however, this isn’t a bad thing. Anyone coming off of Houses would have made the educated guess that Arval would have been a Slither, so it was probably better to not try to treat it as a twist at all.

Arval himself is far more interesting than Shez. He’s almost fatherly to Shez, yet also underlyingly manipulative with his words, even if Arval isn’t aware of his own manipulation. In many ways, he is like Sothis, in that he berates his host’s intelligence a lot, but also loves his host and protects him, while also being like a child with wisdom beyond their apparent age.

Early on in the story, I actually found Arval to be quite annoying. He interjected his thoughts into the story far more than Sothis ever did, and he was never has funny as the writers thought he was. It made his quips grating rather than enjoyable. However, as the war progressed, this happened less and less. Arval become less annoying and more insightful, such as being the first character (and one of the few) in Scarlet Blaze to remind Shez that they aren’t just fighting a war, they are the instigators of the war.

What was particularly interesting about Arval is his insistence of Shez killing Byleth. Shez didn’t really have it in his heart right away to kill Byleth in revenge for his fallen friends, until Arval urged him on. He calls Byleth a monster, and frequently mentions to Shez about his opportunities to finally kill him. Right before Chapter 10′s big battle, Shez even wonders if he even needs to kill Byleth, and that he would rather get such a strong person on his side. It is not Shez that really wants Byleth dead - it is Arval.

Arval speaks about not allowing the cycle of this world to end, and it would end with the death of Shez. Another point we will circle back to later.

So throughout the story up till this point, Shez continuously meets up with Jeralt and Byleth in battle. As mercs, Jeralt and his son are hired by anyone who needs their assistance, and until chapter 10, this is either the Kingdom or the Alliance, depending on the chapter. It’s honestly pretty hype when Byleth enters the battle field - the music changes, and you watch as stronghold after stronghold falls in the Ashen Demon’s wake.

In this regard, the story did a somewhat decent job building up Byleth and his father as a threat to Shez, making Path B’s choice to kill Jeralt not entirely without textual support. I cannot say it was strongly done - Jeralt and Byleth are more minor roles than compared to Claude or even Dimitri - but they appeared enough in battle that by the time this chapter roles around, it doesn’t feel unearned.

What is particularly strange to me, however, is the writers’ choice in who else dies as a result.

See, killing Jeralt has quite a few consequences. It changes the story in a few different ways, and one of the most notable ways is the death of another character. Each route has another character die by Byleth’s hands as a result of Jeralt’s death. In Scarlet Blaze, this character is.... Randolph.

Randolph is not really much of a character. He is a background character, along with his crazy sister Fleche, who is loyal to Edelgard due to the opportunities she has given him. I can say he is more defined than the other general chick that I literally cannot remember her name (nor do I feel like looking it up), but that’s like saying a square is more defined than a triangle because it has one more side.

Randolph, along with Fleche, are actually more memorable due to their role in Houses for Dimitri’s character development, rather than as characters in their own right. It’s Dimitri who threatens to torture Randolph to death, and later Fleche who attempts to kill Dimitri as revenge, only to kill Rodrigue instead. It is these moments that made people remember them.

Even in Hopes, the story does little to build them up as important or someone worth caring about. They exist in the camp, mainly, but that is not enough. So when Randolph suddenly appeared in a cutscene before the battle, I knew that this was the writers trying to remind the players that this is a character that exists, and to hopefully build up some emotional attachment to him before he dies. It comes off as cheap, especially since they had given us Monica. Monica was a character we never actually met in Houses since she had died. But here in Hopes, we save her life, and becomes an important figure in the route. Randolph is not offered the same dignity here.

So when Randolph died to Byleth in battle, my response was “oh. Well, ok. Sucks for him.” Even Fleche’s cries weren’t enough to make me care. This was a character whose role is apparently to die at every chance he gets.

I have mixed feelings about the scenes that followed. On one hand, the characters after the battle comment on the atrocities of war, and it really feels like they took a true loss for the first time. In other battles, they “mourned” deaths of their allies in that they simply noted that there was death in general. But here, they really feel like they are reflecting on the deaths of so many people. It’s more harrowing. Even if I didn’t care about Randolph, I did enjoy the characters reflecting on the losses they suffered.

However, Fleche calls Byleth a monster for killing her brother, but Byleth did not kill Randolph out of revenge for Jeralt’s death. We learn later that Byleth didn’t even know his father died at the time. Randolph just... lost to a better soldier. But the writing makes it seem like we should be feeling that it was unfair, that it was unjust. It completely ignores that it was just a natural event that happens in war - the luckier and stronger opponent kills the other. The end.

For other character deaths up to this point, there is little mourning from the Empire’s side. Instead, these are treated as necessary sacrifices to the war effort, characters that were just on the wrong side. Some characters even delight in the killing, such as Hubert and Caspar, while others claim that it was their choice to die, such as Ferdinand.

It is understandable that the characters would mourn an ally rather than an enemy general, but it’s presented to us as if this loss was an unfair and unjust one, rather than just a natural consequence.

But what about Path A?

If you recruit Byleth by sparing Jeralt in battle instead (or rather, you just never fight him at all), Jeralt and Byleth decide to allow themselves to be hired by Edelgard since they failed to protect their employer, Rodrigue, from being killed in battle.

This path is rather jarring. For one, Randolph’s brief set-up prior to the start of battle becomes obsolete - he is again relegated to a background camp character after this moment. But more notably is the change in tone of the scene that follows the battle.

Rather than mourning the losses of all their soldiers, the characters instead stand around Byleth, practically slobbering all over him in awe. No one seemed upset (except maybe Monica) about having someone who killed their allies on their side. They praise him, gush over him, are excited by him. If you understand that Byleth is literally the Goddess reborn, this natural fascination the characters probably feel isn’t totally farfetched. But it’s still jarring to see, in my opinion.

This goes further than just this scene. After Chapter 10, Edelgard and Hubert’s A rank support unlocks, and Edelgard spends it talking about how she feels naturally attracted to Byleth, and how it might be her Crest that does so (this support happens regardless if you recruit Byleth or not). It canonizes Edelgard’s obsession with Byleth to the power of their matching Crests, which has a slew of implications that I will not be touching on in this review.

After this chapter, however, you may be surprised to learn that the choice to recruit Byleth or not does not play much of a role until later down the road. Byleth is either relegated to a camp character, along with Jeralt, or disappears until he comes back up for one more showdown with Shez. Whatever you chose to do does not reflect at all in the next chapter, where you continue to push your conquest further into the Kingdom.

(One side thing to note: Dimitri has a long scene about mourning Ingrid’s death earlier in the story, but there are no scenes of him or Felix mourning the loss of Rodrigue at all. It’s rather disappointing).

And for me, this was the toughest chapter to swallow, because this is the chapter that truly highest the tonal issue with this route the most.

As I stated earlier, Scarlet Blaze is meant to be the conquest route, and so far, there has been very little... conquering until chapters 10 and 11. It’s been a lot of trying to keep things from falling apart, really. Throughout this entire endeavor, however, most of the characters are gung ho about conquering to “change the future” for the better, to “bring peace” (despite being the ones to break peace in the first place).

Instead of being a campy story about taking over the world or a dark story about a conquering nation taking over a weaker and desperate innocent one, Scarlet Blaze presents itself as a legitimate side with a moral backing. Hopes wants us to believe that all three nations of the war have a leg to stand on in their reasoning for the war. These types of story can be well done. But if one of those sides are the aggressors of war, then you better have a very good reason to be conquering in the first place.

To me, Scarlet Blaze does not offer a good enough reason for the Black Eagles to be taken as morally right in their war. Edelgard’s reason for war is to give everyone in Foldan a chance to rise to the top and to chose their path in life, regardless of their bloodline. This means that the Alliance and the Kingdom must also fall to their knees to her reforms. She has deemed the Central Church as the ones at fault for these social norms, and as such as made them her main enemy.

Unfortunately, Scarlet Blaze does little to justify these claims other than, frankly, heresy. After Chapter 4, we interact very little with the Church as all. Off the top of my head, the only things we actually see the Church do that can be called questionable is Rhea promising to kill Edelgard after Edelgard raided the monastery, send assassins to try to kill Edelgard in Chapter 9 and to Count Varley in general, and... that’s pretty much it. As an antagonistic force, the Church has very little screen time here. They really don’t appear as a major threat until the last two chapters, and even then, Chapter 14 didn’t even focus on them as much as it does on the Kingdom.

If you played Houses and came away believing the Church is the source of all evil, then that screen time isn’t necessary. But if you are like me, and came away believing that while the Church has its issues, it was by no means enough to start a continental war of conquest over, then this is very notable.

That’s not to say the game doesn’t try to vilify the Church in other ways. This is usually in dialogue with the characters, such as Shamir claiming that the Church wouldn’t help people in need and would focus on the fight instead, or Edelgard claiming that the Church upholds rigorous standards that shackle Foldan to the past.

But we never see these claims in action. We are merely told these things, and even then this information does not always line up. I cannot tell you if it is intentional or not, but there are plenty of times when characters spew a lot of negative rhetoric about the Church or the Kingdom, only for the game to contradicts these claims elsewhere.

For instance, Ferdinand claims that the Kingdom has very few nobles without a Crest. In fact, he claims that the Empire is gaining more nobles without Crests, while the Kingdom only has a single Lord without one, due to his generation simply never having one in the first place.

However, we know this simply isn’t true. Even if you ignored Houses, Hopes itself doesn’t support this claim with its own enemy units.

The devs did take care to give Crests to generic nobles fought in the game, and yet we see plenty of nobles here from the Kingdom who lack a Crest. And this isn’t even all of them.

This makes Ferdinand come across as kind of a fool, one who does not verify his information and has fallen prey to the rhetoric he is subjected to on the daily.

If Scarlet Blaze wanted me to believe that the Church is responsible for much of Foldan’s problems, it makes it harder for me to believe Edelgard’s words when her followers get such basic information wrong.

Chapter 11 really shows this the most in my opinion, because we get some rather startle dialogue from our cast that is meant to be the “heroes of this story”.

Chapter 11 is when Edelgard conquers the Western part of the Kingdom. The last of the Kingdom lords loyal to the crown have taken to hiding in a single fort as a last ditch effort to stay alive. And we get some very interesting dialogue from our characters.

This is not all that is said in this chapter, but it’s comes across as tone deaf, because the route isn’t treating itself as a villain route. If it was treating itself as a villain route, then I would have no complaints.

But this is being said about people of a foreign nation, one that the Empire is forcing to its knees to force change upon them. These are people who are seeing their lands taken from them, their way of life questioned and vilified, and the characters all basically say “Well.... they just refuse to change, it’s their fault!”.

The route wants us to feel that these characters are fools for just not bending to the will of invaders.

We also get some rhetoric about the mentality of these nobles trapped inside from Edelgard, which I found particularly baffling.

The thing is, we do see Baron Domonic prior to battle, and this is never brought up by the Kingdom nobles at all. Never is it stated that they chose Dominic to be in charge due to his bloodline... Edelgard just makes that claim out of nowhere, because it fits in with her beliefs.

It is also baffling to me because we do know that the idea of nobility and having responsibilities is not unique to Foldan. Petra is a foreign Princess (made queen during the route at some point offscreen) who is literally right there among the cast. She talks frequently about her responsibilities as queen, and it is a position of birthright just as much as the other nobles in Foldan. But Petra never brings it up as a comparison to Edelgard’s claims. Edelgard never makes mention of wanting to fix the entire world itself- just Foldan. And if the Church is only bound to Foldan, then how does it cause suffering to nobles outside its borders like Brigid?

It doesn’t help that Shez, somewhat a player mouthpiece into the world of Foldan, is ecstatic by Edelgard’s words and wholeheartedly agrees with her.

(This is extra startling because Shez starts out somewhat criticizing Edelgard’s war in their C support, only for him to become an undying loyal follower just like Hubert and Monica).

The thing is, they could have made this a legitimate route to root for if they had just... tweaked Edelgard’s focus a bit. It wouldn’t even take much! Just imagine instead... if Edelgard started her war to root out the Slithers.

Think about it. Edelgard was already subjected to Slither experimentation. She knows what they are capable of. So, what if she knew they were deeply rooted among the people of Foldan, in positions of power? She didn’t know who she can trust - she even says this at one point in a discussion with Hubert!

This slight change would instantly make her war a truly morally grey one, one where the suffering subjected to the common folk is understandable. She can’t just try to talk to the other nations - she doesn’t know who has been Slithered. She needs to take over everything to sniff them out, and free Foldan of their underground tyranny for good. Heck, I might even be on her side for that then!

But alas, the Slithers are treated more as a second set of antagonists. Like the Church, they get very little focus. However, they DO get more focus, for better or for worse.

Besides some paralogues (that lead to nowhere, honestly, in terms of information), the Slithers do kinda get a few chapters right after Chapter 11. Because you see, besides being a conqueror route, we don’t really get to conquer too much. Right after we take over the Western Kingdom, there is a sudden crisis back at home and we find our cast putting out fires again.

Turns out, there is an insurrection happening back in the Empire. Some Empire nobles unhappy with the way things are going have joined forces with the escaped former Duke Aegir, who is leading the charge. Along side of him are the Slithers, who had helped him along the way.

12 Chapters. It took 12 chapters before we got any substantial Slither antagonists to deal with. It took this long before we saw Solon again, and it’s not till Chapter 13 that we get to see Kroyna again either.

And what are the Slithers doing exactly?

That is a very, very good question. Because we never truly learn their aim in this war, other than their ultimate goal is to take back the world from everyone on the surface world.

Why did they suddenly help Duke Aegir in his insurrection and cause mayhem in the Hyrm territory so that they can take Fort Merceus? I guess apparently to spread chaos. That is their reasoning.

Yay.

I suppose one could infer that they want the war to go on because the more death the people of Foldan deal to themselves, the easier the job will be later for the Slithers. But this is never directly stated by the Slithers, ever. They just.... do their thing.

Not only do they do their thing, but they do their thing separately. They barely work together, as it turns out, each Slither kind of working independently for the same goal. So they do random experiments for different reasons, or cause insurrections for different reasons, without being a monolithic entity of deep innerworkings that is unified under a single banner.

The fact the Slithers are basically the cause for the insurrection in the first place is troubling, because it removes agency from the people of Foldan. Scarlet Blaze would have you believe that most of the Empire is pretty ok with Edelgard’s rapid reforms, and those who aren’t have just decided to suck it up.

This isn’t very realistic, honestly. But instead of having Duke Aegir gather unhappy nobles to his side, it is the Slithers who push it along and who make it a reality. It’s always the Slithers who cause the chaos, rather than people just being people and doing awful things on their own.

And again, we don’t really learn much about them. Solon appears at the end of the battle for a brief moment, only to get away. And in Chapter 13, 9 chapters after we first meet her, Kroyna is just... killed rather unceremoniously.

So to recap at this point, Scarlet Blaze introduces the Slithers as early as chapter 3, then we almost do not hear from them until chapter 12 and chapter 13, and the route is only 15 chapters long. PLUS, only 4-5 of these chapters is actually about conquering, and the rest is about just putting out fires within the Empire or along the front lines.

Edelgard is one of the one most affected by the Slithers, yet they only have garnered a mere 2 or 3 chapters for her story.

Plus, chapter 13 has me feeling bad for Duke Aegir. The slimy, whiney, frankly quite awful human being Duke. Me. Feel BAD for this guy. He laments about not being given a chance like the other nobles like Linhardt’s father, and if he had he may have fallen into line. But Edelgard never extended this chance to him in particular.

Which brings up another thing. In Houses, it is revealed that the Insurrection of the Seven, in which seven noble houses overthrew Emperor Ionius and took power. It’s not fully addressed in Houses though, and why exactly they did as such is never fully explored.

Well, it’s not explored here either. How Edelgard managed to convince those who once plotted against her father to her side is never explored. The Insurrection of the Seven is never explored. We learn absolutely nothing new.

Did Aegir deserve to be thrown into jail? Yes. But was he less deserving than the other noble houses who not only were pardoned, but even given positions of power? Take Count Varley. He’s one of the most corrupt nobles in the Empire who loves money more than his job. And yet, Edelgard made him the new leader of her Church. He is clearly the worst person for the job, yet he got it anyways. (Not only that, but the route makes no commentary on Edelgard installing her own bishop into a position of power over the biggest religion in the land. You aren’t supposed to like Varley, but you aren’t exactly given any indication that this action is a wrong one either. This should be indication of what kind of route this is, but the route plays it totally straight.)

Was Aegir not given a chance because he was the only one who subjected Edelgard to experiments? To be frank... it’s honestly not clear. And that’s a shame.

(There is Hubert’s father as well, who Hubert killed during the raid in Enbarr. We don’t get to learn his side of the story either).

However, this is a good segue into characterization for a moment.

When compared to Crimson Flower, Scarlet Blaze offers some characters more time in the spotlight. I cannot say the entire ensemble gets to shine equally, but there is a notable improvement on character purpose and focus. Without Byleth taking over all of Edelgard’s precious time and love energy, it leaves room for other characters to interact with her instead.

When it comes to the main story itself, both Hubert and Ferdinand get to shine the most, with Hubert really stepping up to the plate while Ferdinand gets his own small subplot related to his father. Ferdinand doesn’t get to shine as much as Hubert - the subplot is relatively small, and only relevant for a few chapters, but it’s still more than what he had gotten in Houses.

Ferdinand is the one who kills his father, with an axe to the neck. Ferdinand is understandable shaken up by this, but he deems his as his duty. He feels it was his fault that the Duke staged an Insurrection because Ferdinand had insisted on a fair trail first, rather than just executing him as soon as they could. While I find this logic... confusing, I’m not really going to get into that in this review.

Unfortunately for Ferdinand, that’s as far as his character really goes here. He’s more serious, less funny, and more in line with Edelgard’s desired future. Instead of being Edelgard’s number three like he is in Houses, that spot was taken by the newest Black Eagles member, Monica.

AND OH BOY DO I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ABOUT MONICA.

Monica is, without a doubt, the worst character in the entire cast. If simp was in the dictionary, it’s definition would be Monica.

Monica’s one and really only defining feature is that she LOVES Edelgard. She adores her. Worships her. She counts the number of times she has had tea with Edelgard, the number of times Edelgard has eaten cake, the number of times she sighed, what she does every day, who she talks to.... And no, I am not exaggerating.

For any fans who have played FE Awakening, there is a character called Tharja that is an equally obsessive character to the player insert, Robin. And Monica... is far worse. Because at least Tharja has more qualities than loving Robin.

Monica has almost no other characterization. Nearly everything she says, with a few exceptions, is about how Edelgard is wonderful and who dared to hurt Edelgard, and hey, why don’t you love Edelgard as much as she does?

I could go on, but I have other things to talk about.

The rest of the Eagles aren’t really too much different than their Houses counterparts, but I do want to give a shout out to Petra for not only being far more interesting in Hopes than in Houses, but also for having the best support in Scarlet Blaze with Caspar. I won’t talk about it here. Just go watch it - it’s very good.

Speaking of supports.....

One thing I noted with the supports is that they are sometimes at odds with Edelgard’s characterization, or even her desired future. Edelgard literally comments that she wants to create a future where only merit matters, and not bloodlines. Quite a few of these supports, especially with Ferdinand and Lorenz, make comments about restoring noble honor, or restoring their house, or breaking down the barriers between nobles and commoners.

Some of these supports are cross supports that actually probably make sense in their original route, but some are only viewable in SB, which makes it all the more confusing. Edelgard’s future is for the world to not know of privilege but of merit, and that bloodlines and origins do not matter. And yet, there are plenty of supports viewable in SB that continue to boast about nobility.

One support that stands out to me is Edelgard’s support with Balthus, where Balthus asks to be her bodyguard for a fee. Edelgard flat out tells him no, then lists one of the reasons as his “family history”. I find this quite baffling, for if one’s origins do not matter, then why would Balthus’ family history matter? Ferdinand’s own father was a criminal snake but Edelgard keeps Ferdinand under her employ. And yet, Balthus is not offered the same dignity, part in due to his “family”. Is that not hypocritical?

Edelgard being a hypocrite does not bother me - she was already hypocritical in Houses. What bothers me is the writing seems unaware that she is being hypocritical at all.

Not to mention her bizarre choices of who lives and who dies. When Lorenz’s family betrays them, she welcomes them back with open arms after they defeat them again. However, if Count Rowe betrays her in battle, they cut him and his knight down. Duke Aegir is another example of this, as discussed before.

I also want to call out another Edelgard support in particular that was really... something else. Edelgard’s A support with Ferdinand has them talking about how commoners won’t just be able to rise to the top right away, if nobles already have a leg up in education. Ferdinand than comes to believe that that was Edelgard’s plan, to create a free school to teach everyone a good education. Edelgard looks baffled... then says this is why she needs him, because she needs ideas like that.

In other words, she didn’t think her future plan through. It didn’t occur to her that commoners wouldn’t just be able to rise to the top by merit alone, if they lack the education.

(Of course, this still ignores the reality that even with access to an education, the commoners will need an industrial revolution first to free them from the labor of the fields, so that they actually have time to learn).

We are fighting for this grand future, but the person leading the charge has not thought beyond “get rid of church, ????, profit”.

----

We now reach the last two chapters of this route to discuss. I know it’s been a lot, but if you made it this far, congratulations. We have now reach the part where your choice to recruit Byleth or not matters.

That’s right, this whole time up until this point, Byleth’s existence hasn’t made much of a difference to the story, other than a few pieces of dialogue changes here or there. Chapter 14 is where this difference finally rears its head. So, let’s discuss these two different paths.

In Path A, we are reminded that Byleth and Jeralt are, in fact, characters, as they make a brief entrance into a scene with the cast. We then see Rhea and Dimitri planning their next move - Dimitri will march his army to the Valley of Torment while Rhea goes to take the monastery. Claude meets up with Edelgard and Hubert (remember him? He’s barely been in the story either, and now he’s back, yay! We also hadn’t seen Rhea since Chapter 4, nearly 10 chapters ago) and explains that Dimitri is marching to the Valley. They all agree to meet up there for a three way battle. And this is what happens - All three (four, including some of the Knights of Seiros like Seteth and Flayn), meet up in the Valley for a bloody battle, the Alliance and the Empire versus the Kingdom and the Church.

Once Sylvain has been killed, and Dimitri routed and on the run with Claude on his tail, something very interesting happens. Arval takes over Shez’s body and attacks Byleth.

This then leads to the 2 secret side chapters of this game, taking the route from 15 chapters to 17 chapters. These side chapters have us saving Byleth from Shez/Arval, then Arval killing Solon as a sacrifice to enter what I call the Shadow Realm, taking all three lords and Shez with him.

Here, we learn that Arval is, in fact, basically an AI designed to help usher in the consciousness of Epimenides, an ancient Slither who was once an ordinary man, who was bent on killing Sothis in an act of revenge and taking back the world for his race. Shez was meant to be his vessel in this era.

Shez, along with the lords, kill him, removing his presence from the world for good.

During this time, in Scarlet Blaze, Edelgard has a chance to talk to both Dimitri and Claude.

Her discussion with Dimitri is.... well, she’s not very kind here. She shuts down any notion of them having a history together, and has very little interest in conversing with him. I think I will save a deeper analysis of this discussion for my Azure Gleam review, after I play that route.

Her discussion with Claude, however, I find much more fascinating, because it’s more important to their long term plans and why they are working together. But we will discuss that in just a moment.

After the Slither is killed, the lords and Shez.... somehow manage to get out of the Shadow Realm (literally somehow), say their goodbyes, and go their separate ways to finish off the last chapter.

Now, what happens in Path B?

Instead of Byleth talking with Edelgard, we see Byleth talking with Claude. Apparently, Byleth has “given some tips” to Claude, which changes Claude mind on siding with Edelgard. He claims that he only agreed to join her side because the Alliance was under duress, but now sees a chance to strike at them and get the upper hand. He rallies his soldiers to destroy the Kingdom and the Church so that they aren’t shackled to the past, and to get rid of the Empire for their aggression. This leads to a real three way battle, with Byleth popping up at the end.

This is the only path where Claude can die in the entire game (also marking the only one of the three Lords who can die in this game as well). Byleth will also die here, to Shez’s sword.

Now, before I go on, let’s talk quickly about Sothis. Because....well, there is some stuff to say.

Sothis is not exactly the character we know from Houses. Here, she is... crueler. More vengeful. She calls Byleth a glove to be worn, and it is she who seeks out revenge for Jeralt’s death, moreso than Byleth. I could venture a guess as to why, but I think I’ll save that for another review.

It is Sothis who controls Byleth in the last chapter, and the only reason why Shez wins is because Byleth is kinda fighting her back for control. It makes Byleth sloppy, and thus... killed. Much to the delight of Arval, who finally feels a great burden lifted from him.

I don’t know how I feel about this Sothis. Sothis was always motherly, but here, she seems almost out of character in her vengeful nature. Again, I can hazard a guess, but I’m going to save that for a different review.

I want to wrap this up, so my comments on the final chapter after this will be brief: Edelgard and co go to the monastery to stop Rhea once and for all. Thales.... just happens to be there, which is very contrived. You beat both Rhea and Thales, who then kill each other. Edelgard and Shez then.... high-five, then roll ending text.

------

So, which path is the better path in terms of writing?

Well..... neither, really.

Each path has it’s hiccups in terms of writing.

Path A leads to removing Rhea, Thales and other Slithers INCLUDING Arval from the world. The ending scroll has the Alliance and the Empire reaffirming their agreement, before marching to end the Kingdom once and for all. It’s almost conclusive, save for some sly comments from an NPC that wonders if the Alliance will uphold their agreement. We also get to learn what Arval is and his purpose as well.

However, there are some issues. For one, not everything makes sense, and this is where I circle back to Edelgard and Claude��s discussion in the Shadow Realm.

Claude, as it turns out (which I already knew from leaks), wants the Central Church gone. However, he doesn’t want the Kingdom gone at all, wants Rhea dead, and wants to change the WORLD, not just Foldan.

Edelgard, however, only wants to change Foldan, wants to capture Rhea, and wants the Kingdom gone for good because they are too rooted in Church doctrine for her comfort.

Despite the ending scroll telling me they reaffirm their agreement and march on the Kingdom, their ideals do not match up for the long term. Claude doesn’t want the Kingdom gone, per his claim, and he has “real ambitions”, as he tells Edelgard. It sounds like to me, something will happen along the road that will break up their treaty.

Not only that, but the secret chapters don’t seem to have been written for this route. Dimitri has lost nearly everyone he loved - Gustave, Ingrid, Sylvain, Rodrigue - yet is happy to have been talking with the two lords if but for a moment.

This comes off of Claude literally telling Dimitri to stop running so he will “stop chasing”, and Claude also blames Dimitri for being there in the first place. (Another thing to save for a different review).

Path B, however, never has you learn about Arval at all, and yet has Claude do the more rational thing to his long term plans and betray Edelgard, leading to the ending scroll saying the war went on between all three nations. Arval is still potentially a threat to the world as well, since he could one day take over Shez’s body in the future.

Not only that, but it was Byleth’s existence on the other side that pushed Claude to betray Edelgard, and we.... don’t really learn what Byleth told him. Since Byleth is meant to be God, then what does this imply about Byleth’s influence in this context? Claude even mentions that he wishes he had Byleth sooner on his side to be pushed into the right direction in the first place (implying that siding with Edelgard isn’t the right path, even thought it is Byleth’s advice that leads to his death in this route).

Plus, it’s... so coy with this nod to “my teacher, I wish you chose me” sort of thing that also plagued Houses.

But in both of these paths, the “rivalry” between Sothis and Arval is basically nonexistent, which the box art somewhat alludes to but ever follows up on.

The box art would have you think that Sothis and Arval are two side to the same coin but... they aren’t, really. Hell, after Byleth dies, that’s just it. We don’t learn more about Shez’s past AT ALL (they talk all the time about how Shez’s past is a mystery, how he was adopt, about who his adopted mother may be). They literally leave that hanging. We don’t learn about the “cycle of this world” that Arval had mentioned at the start of the game. All of that is completely left untouched.

So, Path A - learn more information overall, technically a better ending, but the writing of the secret chapters don’t feel like they fit this route very much. Or Path B - Learn nothing of Arval, Claude’s actions are more understandable with his character motivations, but the world is more worse off than ever.

I can’t decide which one I think is better in quality at this time. Both really aren’t that great.

Not to mention that the final chapter is just ridiculous. Thales just HAPPENS to be there when Rhea is, and despite Rhea and Thales being long time enemies of Edelgard, they actually take each other out instead of Edelgard having the pleasure to do it herself.

And it ends on... a high five.

This is a call back to the start of the route, where Edelgard didn’t know what a high five was and didn’t do it. Now here, she does, in the wake of her “victory”.

And I think this high five is the symbol of this route. It shows just what this route really is - a route that fails to recognize the gravity of what it is doing to the continent. A route where your pretty female lord is only praised by her followers, who is almost never questioned and whose actions are always somehow justified, even if they shouldn’t be.

A conqueror route ends on a high five.

And I think that should tell you something.

----

Thanks for reading this really long review. My next task is to start Golden Wildfire. I look forward to seeing what else this game will offer, and how my thoughts will change as I go through this adventure with Claude!

#Three Hopes #Scarlet Blaze #my-playthrough #Scarlet Blaze review

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as8bakwthesage · 1 year

Text

Slenderman (Sing My Lullaby AU - Headcanons)

Slenderman’s morals are extremely dubious, and most would see his methods to achieve his goals as cruel

Has the moral high ground over ZALGO though.

Owns an estate in the Under Realm, which houses several Pastas.

He prefers to kill adults and collects souls for reasons unknown to anyone but him and maybe ZALGO

He used to collect children’s souls, but then his brother Splendorman was born and he stopped afterward

He has several siblings: Trenderman, Offenderman, Splendorman, and Crookedman

He was born to a High Demon named Aprosopi, also known as the Faceless One. The Faceless One is the creator/father of the Slenderfolk.

Slenderman was raised by one of Aprosopi’s disciples and secret lovers whose name was Penelope. He and his brothers didn’t see their father too often. His father disappeared many years ago, so he was left in the care of the half human woman

Slenderman inherited his wealth from his father, being the eldest of the Slenderfolk

Slenderman cared a great deal for the mother-figure in his life so when she died, it hit hard.

He is the eldest of his siblings

His relationship with his siblings is entirely dependent on which sibling you are talking about

With Splendy, being the youngest brother, Slenderman sees him as the least powerful among them and therefor also the weakest, so he needs protecting.

With Offender, him and Slendy have a strained relationship. Slender disapproved of a relationship Offender had with a human woman named Angel and this caused a massive rift between the two brothers. They rarely talk nowadays unless absolutely necessary

Trenderman and Slender get along well enough. They both have mutual respect for one another and Trendy does help make clothing for all of the Pastas under Slender’s care so Slendy better respect him--

Crookedman is an estranged brother who disappeared many years ago. Nobody knows where he is, and Slendy only has vague ideas

Slenderman may not be the most moral character in the SML AU but that doesn’t mean he lacks sympathetic qualities

He cares a great deal for the Pastas in his charge alongside his Proxies. He sees his Proxies as his children in many aspects

However, the way he treats them sometimes is pretty abusive (he emotionally and mentally manipulates them, and on rare occasions, he uses physical violence)

He isn’t unreasonable and won’t necessarily take out his anger on those in his charge but he is definitely known to lie to people when it benefits him and also them in usually pretty messed up ways

Slenderman is privately courting the Poltergeist known as Elizabeth Lyring, AKA Torturer

He is demiromantic and asexual

He has several proxies: Masky (Tim), Hoodie (Brian), Ticci-Toby (Toby), Eyesore (Ophelia), and Frostbite (Lily Snow)

Slendy is aware of Masky’s hatred of who he has become and of his situation, and Slendy does care however, he also won’t let Tim go

He sees Eyesore as his child the most and both are aware of that fact

He gets along most with Sally - another child he has adopted into his strange family

Hates ZALGO immensely because of personal reasons and the feelings are mutual. Slendy has an axe to grind with ZALGO. A serious one. You don’t easily forgive the one who murdered your mother after all

He and ZALGO have an extremely tenuous truce at the moment, which is practically about to snap

Slenderman wants to prevent a prophecy from happening that involves ZALGO killing the world, according to him at least, and ZALGO’s true purpose is unknown

NSFW Headcanons (Minors you will be shot on sight):

Slenderman definitely uses his tentacles during a sexual encounter

Those are rare btw - he’s very sex neutral and has a stupidly low libido (not that Elizabeth complains)

He can be a freak if he is really into the moment, so waiting for it is worth it in Elizabeth’s eyes

He doesn’t have a regular penis like humans do - it’s more like a tentacle of sorts

Man is an eldritch nightmare under the suit

#sing my lullaby au #creepypasta #slenderman #sml slenderman #creepypasta headcanons

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aufaits · 1 month

Text

>logging in...

vivien jiāng. 31. she/her. junior archivist. dependent blog of @foundationhq.

:// loading relevant documents

001. dossier; 002. connections; 003. tasks; 004. archive; 005. pinterest; 006. playlist.

> file select: dossier.txt

> please hold...

cw — mentions of parental death.

last updated: 03.14.2024.

BASICS.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 — jiāng huifen; vivien jiāng.

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 — vi. (please feel free to give her other ones though!)

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 — stephanie hsu.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 — dark hair, normally pinned up out of the way; clothing that oscillates between extremely precise and tidy OR the outfit of someone living far away from society who does not expect to be perceived (i.e. sports bra under a hoodie with leggings); well kept nails, even when at her most disheveled; ramrod straight posture, that barely slips; a distaste for mess in her personal space, if not her own appearance.

𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 / 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — standard lobe piercings. a tattoo of dubious quality (and slightly faded) on her ribcage, reading "til on a day—" in a cursive hand.

𝐀𝐆𝐄 / 𝐃.𝐎.𝐁. — thirty-one. 01/15/1993.

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 — capricorn sun, scorpio moon, gemini rising. year of the monkey (water).

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 — atlanta, ga.

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

jiāng xìnyí (paternal grandmother)

dr. cassian jiāng (father) †

dr. mira wei (mother)

dr. tristan jiāng (brother)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒 — cis woman, she/her.

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 — strong kinsey 5.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 — single. painfully so.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 — quixotic, clever, organized, passionate.

𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 — judgemental, stubborn, proud, sheltered.

𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 — tries to cross reference every person she meets with files that she has read. only sometime succeeds; fidgets with items when talking, has ruined many paper cups in this way; chews on headphone cords (switched to ipods literally only because of this); is one of those guys who has a hyper customized linux setup; memorized various style handbooks for how to format scipnet + scp record pages because she hated double checking them and WILL note if you make a mistake.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 — crossword puzzles + solitaire count, right? honestly, has a garbage work-life balance, so most of her hobbies ARE her work. has not figured a way out of that trap. is still very fond of arthurian romances. wants to be the kind of person who can keep plants but michigan + alaska have made that a less than realistic prospect. plays piano well, does not always find it relaxing.

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 (𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄) — none. desperately wants a cat. has never had a good opportunity to get one.

THE FOUNDATION.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 — junior archivist.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍(𝐒) — assistant analyst for raisa (site-87).

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — junior archivist at site-7, archives room 2303.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 — cybersecurity, archival management, R, can still use shorthand, excellent speedreader, the general knowledge you get from someone who did an MLIS/InfoSci degree, also really good with cats?? a sharp editor, decent at the piano, weirdly good at darts (but good luck getting that out of her), intimate knowledge of scipnet, the functioning of infohazards. probably a champion of spot the difference game (at the very least, a champion of pub trivia, on the rare occasions that she goes).

EXTRAS.

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 —

Jiāng Huifen, also going by Vivien Jiāng, was born in Atlanta, GA, the second child of a Foundation researcher and an academic at Emory University. Shortly after her second birthday, Jiāng’s mother left her father, citing personal differences as the primary thrust behind that. As a result, Jiāng and her older brother Tristan (n.b. Dr. Tristan Jiāng is also a Foundation employee, currently working as a researcher at Site-██) were primarily raised by their paternal grandmother, while their father (later an Administrator at the Decommissioning Department) busied himself with work.

Reports from Jiāng’s schooling at the time describe her as “a teacher’s delight” while others note that “while Vivien is quite adept at her schoolwork, she could take more time to work with her peers, rather than against them.” MySpace posts at this time in her life describe her as “a fucking narc” or as “the kind of person that literally no one would put on their top 8.” In school, Jiāng excelled, eventually attending Brown University to study English, with a specific focus in chivalric romances, with her undergraduate thesis focusing on the figure of the loathly lady, specifically in relation to vows and promises. During the summer, she undertook several publishing oriented internships, though none of them extended job offers after her tenure with them.

Seeming to not find success or interest in the world of editing, Jiāng turned her attention to becoming a librarian, enrolling in the University of Michigan’s Master of Information Science program, originally intending to specialize in library science and archive management. However, due to reasons that she has not elaborated on, in the second and final year of her degree, she turned her focus onto cybersecurity and digital file management systems. After the completion of her degree, Jiāng was recruited into the Foundation, serving as an Assistant Analyst for RAISA’s Document Recovery Division, working from a basement cubicle on Site-87, and providing recovery support for most of the Midwestern USA.

It is at this point that Jiāng’s record veers into the realm of semi-interesting– following a rabbit trail of incongruous files and discrepancies in deleted files, she alerts higher ups that her father, in his administrative position, had been broaching sales of decommissioned SCPs with outside parties of interest. These SCPs primarily were focused on semi-sentient computing, which is how Jiāng noted them in the first place, at least according to her own accounts. With this decrying of her own father (which lead to his termination), Jiāng found that her career shifted tenor– she was moved to Site-7, to assist with the Archival Department located there, and told to work on maintaining and digitizing the RAISA archives as a Junior Archivist.

In that capacity, she predominantly focused on infohazards and catching discrepancies across various digital records, while also developing her own side projects of securing the digital records based on various weaknesses that she had noticed over her overall tenure at the Foundation.

In the midst of this, she brought further attention to herself, in identifying [KING’S GAMBIT] attempt to [REDACTED]. While this did not provide her the prior career advancement that she had previously found, it has emboldened her to repeatedly email regarding ways in which the protocol records of the Foundation might be improved, amongst other concerns.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — please dm me for character specific ones!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 / 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 — what happens when being "by the book fails"; the sheltered bubble of academia; a textbook latchkey kid; chip! on! the! shoulder; tries to act older/more experienced than she is.

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 —

CREDITS.

> theo van hoytema, five angora rabbits.

> ursula k. le guin, the lathe of heaven.

> miles j johnston, sunbeam.

> header: holly warburton, walking to bobby's house.

> icon: SUKI_0V0_.

#fhq.task #— inside me a long dark hallway continued to grow.#— be it work or be it rite?#{me vs airplane wifi: who would win!!}

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thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 7 months

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Every child is born into a new family. The family that I was born into had no other children. I was gonna turn out to be either an only child or a big brother.

I was born into a house on Parsells Avenue which my parents had bought from my grandparents who moved to Holcomb. Our house on Parsells had an upstairs a downstairs an attic and a basement. For some reason, I was afraid of the attic but loved the cellar. The cellar even had a coal bin within which I enjoyed playing and making a mess.

My father had a workroom which fascinated me in its organization but never interested me as much as his bookshelves. I opened every book on that shelf and over the years I have read many of them including Walden, In Dubious Battle, Arrowsmith, Tom Sawyer, Animal Farm and many others. My favorite was Pinocchio which contained a particularly horrifying picture of Monstro the whale.

None of those original books have made it into my library although Pinocchio came close.

I do have one heirloom from that library and it is a curious one. The survivor is a catalogue and price list for the Match Corporation of America out of Chicago published in 1949. It is one of my most prized possessions.

I had to be at least four years old the first time that I saw it. It didn't look like other books. The cover was embossed leather, black red and white. When I opened it for the first time, I immediately became obsessed. The book was filled with sample match packs of different quality, style and expense. Every match pack was designed to catch the eye of a potential customer as well as to feature certain specific lines of business.

According to the text on pager 10.

Colors have great advertising value. Skillfully employed, they are a powerful stimulus. The right color treatment can make a picture of a fireplace look hotter…..a summer lake or an iced drink cooler.

The stimulus and color treatments started working on me. My father was a fireman so from my earliest days, I had a respect for fire and would never play with matches. Perhaps I substiuted that taboo with a passion for looking at matchbook covers rather than lighting matches.

During the summers, we spent glorious days at our cottages on Canandaigua Lake both of which were built by my grandfather after many a cool drink.

I'm figuring that the late forties and early fifties were the golden days of matchbook advertising, an advertising angle that was based upon good will and let's face it; smoking.

Watch movies from this era. Everybody is smoking. Watch the seductive method in which femme fatales accept a light from their victims; the touch of the fingertips to steady the match, the look into the eyes. and then the blow.Yeah, ya know.

So everybody liked to carry matches around just in case somebody wanted to strike up a conversation with that suggestive question, "Hey there, gotta match."

Book matches were an excellent way for businesspeople to give their customers and prospects an item that would be in continual use while serving as a daily necessity.

"Book matches are always on the job rendering essential service every hour of the day and night. As they serve, they repeat your advertising message constantly, insistently but inoffensively. Book matches are never refused when offered and are rarely if ever thrown away until the last match in the book has done its job."

Today, I took the book off the library shelf in my Southern home again. Yup, the catalogue survived our trip to Carolina. I opened the book for the first time in decades and I remembered even more secrets about the book and its influence on my life.

Amidst the dozens of matchbook front covers, top folds (saddles) and back covers neatly adhesed to the pages of the catalogue, there was an ironic total absence of matches as the adhesion to the printed page was made where the matches and the inside covers would have been if the models were complete and functional.

As for the missing matches themselves, they would have been carefully designed to avoid delayed action sputtering and fireworks. Each match head would have been carefully dipped into an ignition material to assure quick flaming with velvet smoothness. Each missing match would offer an equal distribution of ignition on every well formed striking head.

Die cutters used strong sturdy board was used for the creation of perfectly uniform match stems stems, which would always be stiff and firm always stiff to assure the reduction of bending and breaking. The collection of match heads in each book was carefully centered and stitched into the covers.

All of these qualities can only be imagined due to the adhesion of the sample books to the catalogue.

What can still be appreciated even after all these years are the front covers, the back covers the saddles and the striking surface.

The striking surface itself is smooth, even, responsive and prepared with exacting standards.

The manufacturers selected the paper stock of the covers based upon toughness, texture and smooth retentive coating. Skillful artists created the designs created using fine inks from skillfully etched engravings.

The matches can only be imagined like the places that the books advertised: The Nook on Roosevelt Blvd in Philadlephia Pa. The Nook was a "friendly place" where "you are a stranger but once" or Kit's Cocktail Lounge 333 A Street in Oxnard California; "a continental spot, you'll like a lot" or The Blue Moon 8436 Jefferson where the customers can dine and dance and "everybody has a good time".

I was so little at the time that I didn't even know what a "cocktail' was but it looked like the people ont covers were having a good time. These were all Sunburst quality designs. Someone had removed order 3106-SB from the catalogue which always bothered me. Who would do such a thing? Why would anybody want to ruin perfection.

There was a lot that I didn't understand as a child some of which still remains a mystery.

I have learned the importance of careful design, avoiding accidental fireworks, equal distribution of ignition, stiff resistance, centering, exact standards, smooth and even response, toughness, texture, reduction of breakage and retentive coating.

I'm gonna need all the emotional help I can gather from my learning resources, as my lifelong friend Johnny passed away yesterday. The calls are coming in and going out.

I got the call while composing this very piece

I showed him the book sixty five years ago.

Today he's Order 3106 SB.

Unlike 3106 SB, however, Johnny is gone but not ripped off. He led a full life and lived it according to his toughness, standards, measured ignition, indomitability, responsivity and good will.

We never know when we're gonna put away childish things. The last time that I opened the catalogue was the day that I showed Johnny the book. I think we paused at the pin-up matchbooks which I had once thought forbidden but had long since been blown away by Playboy magazine. We were good Catholic boys.

Sixty years have passed between the time I opened the book for Johnny which was the last time that I had opened the catalogue for anybody including myself. The catalogue had a brief hey day around the time, five years earlier, when Jimmy Welsh, Tom Bissonette, Mike Drexel, Richard Insalaco, Feeb and I embarked upon a stamp collecting fad that lasted about six months.

We all got these cheap stamp books and started collecting. Woolworth's and Neisner's downtown sold small bags of cancelled stamps and we all thought that we'd find a treasure amongst these throwaways. Hundred stamps cost a quarter which was the equivalent of five packs of baseball cards.

We bought those sticky things that you put on the back of the stamps to make them adhere and went about with our collections. My stamp book was a goddamned mess. Stamps in wrong places. Stamps losing their adhesive and dangling every time that I opened the book. The disorganized mess that was the stamp book revealed my lack of maintenace skills and disdain for organization.

My buddies would come over and bring their stamp books and we would compare collections. I would be continually surprised at the comparative shittiness of my collection. One day I got an idea, whenever my friends came over with their collections, I claimed that I had never really been a stamp collector and that my real passion was collecting match books. I would take out the catalogue with its formidable organization and consistent adhesion and present that book as my "collection." Most of my friends were amazed and some were scandalized/aroused when they happened over to the pin up section which I tried to avoid as near occasions of sin leading to temptation and awkward confession.

Hence, I gathered a false reputation as a fastidious collector who knew how to organize, adhese and value.. even as our innocence was slipping way like our boyhoods.

Fortunately for me, the stamp collecting craze ended as quickly as it began and I could put the catalogue away before my gimmick was discovered. I only took it out that one last time.

Baseball cards replaced stamps. I took care of those cards and still have many of them today.

I became friends with Johnny. We were together in the classroom of Sister Matthias in fifth grade. He sat across the room from me but when something unusual happened in the class or Sister made a joke or Father Feeney came in and started challenging us to think beyond the catechism, we would look across the room at each other and laugh. We both understood something about each other and the world that was common knowledge to us but hidden from others.

Many of the folks to whom I showed the catalogue and the baseball cards and the stamps are no longer with us although they remain with me in spirit and thus add soul to my cards and catechism to the catalogue. I hadn't opened the match catalogue until I was inspired to do so with a writing challenge to write about an heirloom which I am doing now in the midst of which as you now know, Johnny passed away suddenly but not unexpectedly.

Johnny had undergone way too many trials; Heart surgery, bone marrow, colon cancer, liver disease, radiation, chemotherapy. He sustained his good will and his humor throughout every struggle. He remained a faithful husband and loving father as he was going the distance with his wife of 42 years.

During one of his cardiac crises Johnny had been resusitated from the dead. This experience changed him even further as it gave him an even deeper appreciation of life and decreased his fear of passing. Plato claimed that philosophers didn't fear death because they practiced it every day with sacrifice, contemplation and meditation. By the time of his passing Johnny had become quite a philosopher.

I had spoken with him only a week earlier. He had been through a series of "procedures" since I moved down South. He was about to have his bladder removed which we knew was a dangerous and complicated operation. We had an opportunity during this phone call to reminisce about our days together. I got to tell him that I loved him. He remarked that somehow, through it all, we had emerged as successful happy men. His last words to me were "We'll see each other again."

I'll be contemplating the contents of that final conversation for the rest of my life

In between that final phone call and today I took the catalogue off the shelf. It did its job. I'm gonna put it back on the shelf now , maybe for the last time and contemplate Johnny in the spiritual world most assuredly not for the last time.

I'll see you again Johnny when I get home.

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asterigos · 1 year

Photo

GENERAL INFORMATION

► FULL NAME: Regan Sloane ► ALIAS: Juliette Maes ► GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman (She/Her) ► AGE: 32 ► BIRTHDAY: March 6 ► SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual ► OCCUPATION: Bodyguard / Hired Muscle (for heists)

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

► RELIGION: Atheist ► EDUCATION LEVEL: High School ► ECONOMIC STATUS: Middle-Class ► SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (fluent), Greek (advanced)

PERSONALITY

► JUNG TYPE: ESFP ► ENNEAGRAM: Type 6w5 ► MORAL ALIGNMENT: True Neutral ► TEMPERAMENT: Choleric ► QUALITIES: Adaptable, Daring, Determined, Outspoken, Reliable ► FLAWS: Defiant, Deflective, Immoral, Provocateur, Sassy

APPEARANCE

► FACE CLAIM: Lyndsy Fonseca ► HEIGHT: 5’5” ► EYE COLOR: Blue ► HAIR COLOR: Brunette ► TATTOOS: Fer-de-lance snake winding around upper right arm, Raven pierced by arrow on lower left arm ► SCARS: ~2 inch scar over left hip from knife wound ► PIERCINGS: Left Earlobe (one); Right Earlobe (one)

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warning(s): Death (patricide, threats)

Regan grew up in a house of contradictions: her mother, Meriam, was a police officer and her father, Leonidas, was a mercenary. Two sides of the law under one roof. Her father, however, kept his job a secret and lied to the family about being a “9-5 paper pusher,” as he called it. Not wanting to have to deal with any court hearings or other legal matters that would inconvenience him, when he learned that Meriam was pregnant with twins he begrudgingly accepted to stick around and help raise them while secretly figuring out how to work with his new responsibilities as a parent while also being a mercenary. Meriam, her time being entirely taken up by motherhood and her career, accepted and didn’t often question Leonidas’s more questionable behavior such as his evasiveness when asked personal questions or when he went on abrupt business trips. As both parents were busy with their own lives they never married, which became a topic that both Regan and Kassandra disliked speaking about with others because of how it led to too many invasive questions than they felt like dealing with.

When she was home, Meriam taught Kassandra and Regan about the law with the hope and expectation that they would abide by them. She taught them some self-defense, but she was often too busy or too exhausted to spend much time with her daughters when she was home leaving them to keep themselves preoccupied. Leonidas, on the other hand, taught the girls how to break into and hotwire cars, how to break into buildings and homes, how to pickpocket, and how to fight. This was all under the guise of various excuses he’d give Meriam about how it’d be useful for the twins to know if they were ever in trouble and needed to collect evidence or break out of a situation with brute force.

Regan was much more receptive to their father’s lessons than Kassandra who was skeptical about why they were truly being taught them. With no solid evidence to bring to their mother about his dubious teachings and motives she said nothing at the time. Leonidas, as a result, became more distant with Kassandra and began to focus his attention more on Regan while Kassandra became closer with Meriam and frequently spoke of wanting to follow in her footsteps with stamping out crime and upholding the law. Regan was usually at odds with their mother as she questioned the criminal justice system and unfairness and contradictory ways in which the law was enforced and how those who opposed it were punished.

In time Leonidas revealed to Regan that he was a mercenary. Although initially surprised by the news, his behavior and knowledge of criminal acts made much more sense to her. He swore her to secrecy, which she didn’t mind following, though he had threatened her with death if she were to ever reveal the truth about him to anyone. Kassandra had meant to be out with friends, but due to plans that fell through she stayed home though hadn’t said anything. She overheard the conversation yet rather than leap into action, when she revealed the information to her mother, Meriam brushed it all under the rug as she didn’t want to upend her whole life in order to put Leonidas on trial and behind bars.

The revelation of their father being a mercenary caused a large rift in the relationships between everyone. Leonidas fled from their house in the middle of the night after a heated argument where Meriam and Kassandra were on one side with him on the other and Regan unsure of where she should stand. After his departure, Regan soon followed once she’d finished high school and had no desire to pursue a college degree as she grew weary of the oppressive atmosphere of the house that her mother and sister created out of resentment towards her.

She picked up part-time, odd jobs here and there often in line with criminal activities until she settled with being a bodyguard. On the side she would take up the position of hired muscle for heists after being introduced to the work by coworkers at the security company she worked for. After some time she quit her job and became a freelance bodyguard where she could manage everything herself from her clientele to her prices. Regan remained open for heist jobs as she enjoyed the thrill they provided her whereas her bodyguard work was something to keep her busy between them.

Regan became so absorbed in her own life she had never searched for her father, but learned one day that Kassandra was promoted to police sergeant upon the success of the case where she played a key role in hunting him down. While the goal had been to apprehend and arrest Leonidas, she had instead killed him and fabricated a believable and accepted excuse for his death.

RELATIONSHIPS

► MOTHER: Meriam Sloane (police officer) ► FATHER: Leonidas Aetos (mercenary; deceased) ► SIBLINGS: Kassandra Sloane (police sergeant; fraternal twin) ► OTHER: Luka Griffin (bar owner / fence; friends)

MISC INFORMATION

► At first fascinated by her father’s secret life when she was younger, she’s now frustrated by her father’s influence in her life as she feels like she’d been conditioned by him to become a criminal thus hindering her ability to have ever chosen a different path in life. However, she doubts she would’ve done so. ► Her involvement in the criminal world and the clients she’s taken on as a bodyguard have left her jaded and cynical towards humanity. ► Disillusioned by life and the relationships she prefers to surround herself with other people despite her generally low opinion of them to distract herself from feeling like she’s coasting through life and the emptiness and loneliness she feels from not having had any strong, genuine relationships. Greatly irritated with herself for feeling this way as she also pushes people away. ► Describes herself as untrusting and emotionally unavailable yet tends to offer to listen to others when they’re troubled. She’ll give advice that may be immoral, extreme, harsh, something that the other person doesn’t want to hear yet needs to, or a combination of any of those. Will help out others here and there on occasion.

#*character overview

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thebiscuiteternal · 2 years

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Time again for idea/headcanon snippets from twitter!

- I have decided that the “his expression made it seem as though someone could do anything to him” line means everyone who meets Nie Huaisang gets hit on sight by the “I want to ruin him” urge.

- MDZS but all the swords are wrapping paper tubes. (BONK)

- Nie Mingjue is always on his brother’s case about wasting time on erotica, but one day curiosity finally wins out and he looks at one of Nie Huaisang’s unfinished books. It’s... really good??? With characterization and plot and worldbuilding and everything??? The art is great-hall-mural quality??? And then the next argument they have goes from “wasting time” on spring books to wasting time on spring books, and Huaisang pulls out the figures to show that sex sells, Da-ge and Mingjue doesn’t have a comeback for that no matter how much he wants to argue the point.

- Post-canon Ouyang Zizhen realizing that Wangxian and Jiang Cheng all treat him as “that kid who’s just kinda here” and realizing he deserves his own mentor, which leads to him going “free real estate” on a very surprised Nie Huaisang.

- Donghua!Jin Guangshan uses a fan, so just imagining Jin Guangyao musing over what kind of fan design to bring on his next visit to Qinghe and seeing his father walk by. He makes a note of what kinds of imagery his father likes... ...so he can avoid it. Also, Nie Huaisang absolutely dragging Jin-zongzhu’s taste in fans and Jin Guangyao knowing he really, really shouldn’t be laughing, but damn it’s cathartic to listen to someone call out that tacky shit.

- Brought to you by my “Frankenstein stitches are cool, but like hell Nie Huaisang would let his brother go out looking so messy” agenda, a Ningsang set up where something or other happens and Nie Huaisang gets a look at Wen Ning’s upper body. Utterly disgusted by Wei Wuxian’s bare-bones battlefield repair job, he drags Wen Ning off to get some high quality replacement stuffing and properly artistic embroidery. It’s basically a spa day and Wen Ning finds himself enjoying the extremely rare pampering. (They Do Not Talk About why Nie Huaisang is so skilled at stitching dead flesh.)

- Listen, no matter how many times it shows up in fics or headcanons, some variation of Nie Mingjue complaining to his brother about some dude and being like “I trust him as far as I- as far as you could throw him,” is always going to be funny as hell.

- (Came up with this one on Halloween) During his final qi deviation, Papa Nie unwittingly killed his younger son before being killed by his elder. Years later when Meng Yao joins the sect, he accidentally discovers that through an extremely dubious ritual, Nie Huaisang has secretly “survived” as something that isn’t quite human, and will stay alive as long as Mingjue and the other elders and disciples in the know regularly offer up infusions of blood and qi. Of course, now that Meng Yao knows about this, he can’t be allowed to leave...

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #wen ning #wei wuxian #ouyang zizhen #ideas #ningsang #sangyao #maybe

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mandos-sluts · 3 years

Text

The Botched Mission

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dubious consent, degradation, daddy kink, mutual masterbation, dirty talk, voyeurism

Summary: You work for the Empire and are tasked with spying on Mando. You don’t do a great job at concealing your efforts.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!!

You were born and raised in the Empire. Your mother was an admiral in the Imperial Security Bureau under Moff Gideon and your father died in battle during the Great Purge. The more you grew up, the more you questioned the Empire’s actions and ideology, but it didn’t really matter. There was no getting out for you— your entire livelihood was supported by the Empire.

Your commanding officer has given you a mission on Tatooine. You are to go undercover as a mechanic and surveill the Mandalorian Din Djarin. It was known that he knew of the force-sensitive child’s location and had dealings with other Jedi, thus, he was of great interest to the Empire.

***********************

The Mandalorian’s ship is scheduled to undergo maintenance for two days on Tatooine. You stand in the hangar and watch as the beat up Razor Crest lands. The ship’s hatch opens and there standing tall is the Mandalorian, covered from head to toe in shiny silver beskar. He walks confidently down the ramp and towards you.

You open your mouth to introduce yourself when he tosses a bag of credits to you. “I need the repairs completed by tomorrow afternoon.” He says in a deep voice, towering over you and gazing into your eyes.

Shit. You’re….you’re really attracted to him. The way he carries himself is so hot— his assertive demeanor, his voice. “Yeah, absolutely, no– no problem sir.” You stutter out. “Um, I’m y/n.”

Mando nods his head and then walks right past you, leaving you standing there with your panties damp.

He exits the hangar and all he can think about is you. Fuck, since when were mechanics so beautiful?

You shake your head and try to focus. Heading into the ship, you begin installing hidden cameras all over. An actual mechanic employed by the Empire meanwhile gets to work making repairs.

You consider waiting around for Mando to return for the evening, just so you can interact with him more, but once it gets dark, you head to the inn that you’re staying at. Mando arrives back to his ship a little after you return to your room.

Your boss made it clear that she wants you to watch him whenever he’s not sleeping. Which honestly is stupid, it’s not like he’s going to talk to himself and reveal important information? You lie back in your bed with the screen on your lap and watch the live feed of the cameras in the ship, already bored out of your mind. The camera’s are super high quality; the picture and audio are both crystal clear. A few minutes later, you see the hatch open and watch Mando enter the ship.

Mando notices the cameras almost instantly. To be fair, you always half-assed your missions; you really don’t care about advancing the Empire’s agenda or doing your job well. Mando lets out a long annoyed sigh. He knew you didn’t look like a mechanic!

His first thought is to take down all of the cameras, apprehend you, and turn you over to the New Republic. There are only a few lodges in town and it wouldn’t be hard for him to track you down. On the other hand...he figures he could have some fun with this.

Pretending he isn’t aware of the cameras, Mando puts his weapons away in his arsonal just like he does every night.

Shit, you think to yourself. His collection of weapons is massive, he could kill you with such little effort if he wanted to.

Mando heads up to the cockpit and slumps down in the pilot’s chair. He stretches his legs out and takes a deep breath. Bringing his hand down to his crotch, he starts rubbing himself over his pants.

Your eyes widen and you sit up in your bed. Is– is he doing what it looks like he’s doing? You feel arousal shoot to your pussy as you watch a tent form in Mando’s pants.

Mando knows you’re watching him, and he saw how nervous he made you earlier today, so he knows that you’re too curious and horny to turn it off. He unbuttons his pants and releases his long, thick cock. He takes his length in his hand and spreads his precum around up and down his shaft, letting out a moan.

Your panties are soaked at this point and your pussy is begging to be touched. You bring your hand down and start rubbing your clit over your shorts, your eyes are glued to the screen.

Mando starts pumping his cock up and down, faster and faster. You’ve never been so turned on in your entire life. You trail your hand into your pants and start circling your wet clit. You know this is super creepy of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Mando’s breathing picks up as he fucks his hand even harder.

“Ah fuck.” He spits out.

Ugh his voice is so sexy–

“Fuck, y/n. Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Your heart drops and your hand freezes. He just said your name...He’s jerking off thinking about you. Did you even tell him your name?

“That’s right, y/n, ride my cock, pretty girl.” He breathes out.

You’re shocked and your cunt starts throbbing. Mando has the biggest cock you have ever seen, like...holy shit. You can’t handle how horny you are right now. The fact that you can’t hop on his lap and start bouncing on his dick makes you want to cry. You start whimpering as you glide your fingers along your slick and watch Mando growl your name.

Mando grips the arm of his chair as he feels his orgasm approaching. He’s so hard knowing that you’re watching him.

“Ahhhhhh fuuuckkkkk, yyy/nnn” Mando moans as you watch his cum spew out of him.

Feeling your own orgasm coming on, you quickly turn off the monitor, close your eyes, and start pumping your finger in and out of your hole. It takes you less than twenty seconds to cum, thinking about Mando saying your name while jerking off.

You don’t bother to turn the monitor back on for the rest of the night. You go to sleep replaying those images of Mando in your head over and over again.

************************

The next morning, Mando leaves his ship for the day at dawn and you head over to the hangar a few hours later. The mechanic is finishing up the final repairs when you arrive.

In case Mando asks you about the repairs, the mechanic gives you an overview of everything she did. You listen intently....for about a minute, but then end up inadvertently tuning her out, thinking about what you witnessed last night.

“Got it?” She says, jolting you back to reality.

“Y-yes totally.” You lie.

The mechanic leaves and you grab a seat at a table in the hangar, waiting patiently for Mando to return.

A few hours later, Mando struts into the hangar. He strolls right past you up to the Crest. “The ship done?” He asks shortly, not even looking back at you.

“Yes, everything is in order sir, have a good flight.” You say nervously, turning around to exit.

“Wait.” He says, stopping you in your tracks. “I have a few questions before I depart.” Mando says as he opens the hatch.

“Um, s-sure.” You say, following him into the ship.

Mando starts up the Crest and does a lap around the first level, examining all the areas where work was presumably done. The ship is in great shape, but he knows that you didn’t do any of it.

“Are the front deflectors operating at full capacity?” Mando asks in his deep, modulated voice.

“Uh, y-yeah.” You respond. You’re standing against the wall trying your best to keep cool and act like you know what he’s talking about.

“Did you fix the leak in the carbonite system?” He asks.

“Y-yes.”

“How did you get the ion acceleration chamber running again?” He questions without looking up, continuing to walk around and inspect the ship.

“Uh, um–”

Mando turns his gaze to you. “Did you rewire the calcinator or instal a new thruster nozzle?

“Um I did it by rewiring the– the thunder novel...”

Mando begins walking toward you. “How is the repulsor grille functioning?”

“I– I um...I just, I– the ship–”

Mando is now standing directly in front of you, staring into your desperate intimidated eyes. “What’s the matter, little girl, don’t know the answer?” He says moving even closer to you.

“N-no I know–”

“Can you tell me about the work you did on the engines?” He interrupts. “Or why don’t you tell me about these cameras you installed first.” He says, reaching over you and yanking one of the cameras out of the wall above you.

Your heart drops. “I-I didn’t put those there.” You stutter out.

“Drop the act, y/n. I know you’re not a mechanic. I know you work for the Empire.”

Fuck, you are so busted–

“And I know you watched me last night. Sweetheart, it’s written all over your face.” He says lightly, grabbing your chin and pulling your head up so that you’re looking directly into his visor.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel your face is bright red. You’re trembling with fear but you are also so turned on. Your pussy is throbbing as your breath heavily and stare into Mando’s visor with doe eyes.

“I—”

“Tell me, pretty girl.” He interrupts you again. “Did you like watching me jerk off?” He asks in a deep tone as he runs his other hand down your body to your waist.

“Y-yes.” You whisper with humiliation.

Mando brings his hand between your legs and dances his fingers on your crotch. “Did you touch yourself while you watched me?”

You nod your head slowly.

“What a fuckin naughty girl.” He says pushing you hard against the wall. He pushes your shorts to the side and slides his fingers into your panties. You let out a high-pitched exhale, still maintaining eye contact with him

“Damn. So wet already.” He says in a low rough voice. “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Those Storm Trooper boys can’t fuck you good, can they?” He says mockingly. “Maybe I should turn you over to the New Republic.” He utters as his other hand lightly grabs your throat. “Or, maybe I should come up with my own form of punishment for you.” Mando says as he thrusts his middle finger up inside of you.

You let out a gasp and your mouth falls open as he starts pumping your hole. “I’ve never fucked a slut from the Empire before.” He says, tightening his grip on your throat. You’re so wet you can hear his finger moving in and out of you.

“What do you think, you little criminal?” He says in a sultry tone.

“Ahhh!” You moan out. “I– I think you should– ahh– punish me, Mando.” You whine, batting your eyes at him as he drives his finger in and out of your cunt.

Mando grinds his bulge against your stomach. “Yeah? Then you’d better be an obedient little whore for me.”

Mando pulls his fingers out of you. He abruptly shoves down your shorts and rips off your top. “What are you–”

“Shut up.” He snaps as he turns you around and shoves you back against the wall. “Hands against the wall.” You do as you’re told.

You hear your shirt rip again and all of the sudden your vision goes black as you feel Mando tying fabric around your eyes. You’re naked except for a thong and blind fold, with your cheek and palms flat against the metal wall. One by one, you hear pieces of Mando’s armor hitting the floor. *see gif* Then you feel his bulge grind against your ass and one hand wrapping around your throat while the other grabs your tit.

His lips come to your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a fuckin week.” He breathes in your ear. “Your pretty little cunt is gonna be overflowing with my cum when I’m done with you.” He growls, roughly kneading your tit.

“Yes daddy” You moan in response.

Mando loves that you called him daddy. He grabs your hair and pulls it back and down, tilting your head back and making your back arch while your hands stay flat on the metal wall. With his hold still on your hair, you feel his warm lips plant onto yours, his facial hair rubbing against your skin. His lips move down your cheek to your neck, and he sucks on your smooth skin while pulling your hair back. Pulling away, he can already see the bruise of the hickey forming on your neck.

Mando pulls away from you and steps back, taking a moment to admire how vulnerable you look, blindfolded and panting against his wall. Then you feel his hand smack your ass check, and you let out a yelp. He does it twice more against the other cheek and you can’t help but cry out.

“Shut up, slut. I told you I was gonna punish you.” He says as he pulls your g-string up, making its fabric drag and pull against your clit. He spanks you again. Arousal shoots to your cunt, and it is dripping wet.

Mando spins you around again and slams your back against the wall. He once more grabs your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck so perfectly for him. Mando grabs your ass and pulls you up against him. “Open your mouth.” He commands in a stern voice, still pulling your hair down.

Your lips part wide and Mando bites your bottom lip before spitting in your mouth. “Swallow.” He orders. You close your mouth and swallow his sweet saliva down your throat.

Mando picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. He sets you down on a metal table and rips your thong off of you. Your legs are wide open, your pussy splayed out on the table for Mando to admire as he pulls his shirt over his head. He runs two fingers up and down slick and then shoves them in your mouth. “You gonna be a good girl and show me how needy this little cunt is?” He whispers in your ear while you suck his fingers.

He removes his fingers from your mouth. “Yes.” You breathe out.

“Yes, what?” Mando says slapping your outer thigh.

“I– I’m gonna be a good girl for you, daddy. And sh–show you how– how needy I am for your cock.” You stammer out.

Mando hums in response as he lines his tip up with your entrance. One of your hands is wrapped around his neck and the palm of your other hand is flat against his warm hard chest.

You feel his warm precum against your tender skin as he pushes the head of his dick into you. Your mouth falls open and you gasp. He does a few thrusts with half his length and it’s already more than you can handle.

“Fuck!” You spit out in a high pitched voice.

“Shit–” Mando snaps. “How are you so fuckin tight?” He says, seeming genuinely frustrated.

You’re being so stretched out you can’t form a response. You just sit there, wrapped around Mando, breathing heavily with your mouth agape, trying your best to adjust to his size.

“You’re squeezing the shit out of my cock. Ah you feel so fuckin good.” Mando groans in your ear as he pushes more of his member inside of you. He then abruptly snaps his hips and thrusts all the way inside of you.

You scream out “Fuck!” And dig your nails into his back.

Mando starts pumping in you slowly. “You’re doing so good, baby girl, taking my big cock in your tight pussy so well.”

He brings more of his length out and picks up the pace.“Ahhhhh Mando! Fuck!” You cry.

“What’d you call me?” He says, snapping his hips into you hard.

“Daddy!” You squeal. “Daddy! I–I’m sorry! Daddy fuck your cock is– is so big!” You wine between thrusts. He puts his lips on your mouth.

“I know, pretty girl” He whispers in your mouth. “You’re doing good.”

He starts thrusting faster and you lose control of the moans that escape your lips. You’re holding onto him for dear life as he pounds into you, his hands clutching your hips. Mando pushes you down so that you’re lying on the table and swings one of your legs up on his shoulder, providing him an even better angle, allowing him to drive his cock right into your G-spot.

“Ahhh daddy, yes! Fuck! Right there, please!” You scream.

Mando holds your leg against his chest with one arm and brings his other hand to grip your throat.

“Do– do the Imps know they have a filthy– ahh– filthy fuckin cockslut working for them?” He mocks. “What would they say if they knew you agreed to be your target’s dirty little fucktoy? Huh?”

All you can do in response is scream and moan. Mando removes his hand from your throat and drags it down your stomach. He starts circling your clit and you begin to see stars. Your whole body starts shaking and your cunt clenches down on Mando’s cock. “Fuck, I– I’m gonna cum!” You exclaim. Your pussy starts pulsing like never before as you feel your orgasm overtake you.

“Yes, ahhh fuck! This pussy was– was made for my cock, shit.” Mando says as he rides you through your orgasm. He loves watching you come apart on a table in his ship, blindfolded and helpless.

Mando can feel his own climax nearing and he clasps your hips tight. His fast thrusts lose rhythm and you can feel his cock getting stiff in your cunt. He pumps his cock a few more times and then you feel his warm cum surge inside of you. “Fuuuccckkk.” Mando grunts as his white juices fill your hole.

He pulls out of you and scoots you to sit further back on the table as he redresses. You can feel his cum trickling out of your pussy onto the cold metal table beneath you. You close your legs— without him pressed up against you and without your sight, you feel so exposed and awkward.

You hear the hiss of his helmet and then feel his hands pushing your legs back open again, displaying your abused and leaking cunt. Mando unties the makeshift blind fold, and you see him standing fully clothed and armored in front of you. He wraps one hand around your waist and pushes your thigh further apart with his other hand.

“You look so pretty like this.” He says in his deep, modulated voice. “Come on.” He says with his hand still around your waist, motioning you off the table. You hop off and your legs immediately give out, your body falling to the floor.

Mando scoffs and pulls you up. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.”

“You’re a man of your word.” You say sarcastically.

“Guess that means I’ll have to uninstall all the fuckin cameras you hid all over my ship.” Mando says as he sweeps you off your feet. He carries you into his sleeping quarters.

“No. Keep them.” You say with a side smile as he lays you down on the bed. “I like watching you jerk off. Especially when you jerk off while moaning my name.” You pull the blankets to cover you.

Mando sits on the bed that you’re lying on “Fuck.” He says caressing your cheek. “If you didn’t work for the Empire I’d take you with me.” Mando says bluntly.

“Take me with you, Mando!” You say sitting up. “I don’t wanna work for the Empire. Fuck the Empire. I’ve been looking for a way for so long.”

Mando smiles underneath his helmet. “Well, good thing you did such a shit job at your mission.”

**************************************

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laurasimonsdaughter · 3 years

Text

The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

#Charles Perrault #François-Timoléon De Choisy #genderqueer folktales #trans representation #laura retells #except not really it's more like laura copy pastes this time

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alphabet-blues · 3 years

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Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

#Parkner #Drowning Lessons #Fic #Chapter One #Parkner Euphoria Fic #Graphic Drug Usage #Harley Keener #Peter Parker #Keenker #Parley #Harley/Peter #Harley Keener/Peter Parker

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your-angle-of-music · 3 years

Text

Of all the classic operatic figures that Erik could have picked to focus on in his magnum opus, the ultimate expression of his trauma and agony, the work that he intends to kill him and die with him, why the hell did he go with Don Juan? And why Don Juan Triumphant? (We are steadfastly ignoring the ALW musical version here.)

In most versions of the story (including in Mozart’s Don Giovanni, the most famous version and the one that Erik references to Christine), Don Juan is a wealthy nobleman who likes to drink, gamble, and most of all seduce young women in scenarios where consent is often dubious, if not nonexistent. He frequently adopts various disguises or elaborate schemes to get into their petticoats, and he never stays for long. One day, Don Juan is caught in the act by the father of his latest lover. Don Juan kills the father (Don Gonzalo) without hesitation or remorse. A little later, high on his hubris, Don Juan finds Don Gonzalo’s statue in a graveyard and mockingly invites him to dinner. Except, Don Gonzalo actually comes to dinner, and demands that Don Juan repent. Don Juan refuses, and he gets dragged down to hell.

There are some superficial similarities between Don Juan as we know him and Erik. The trickster aspect comes to mind; Erik is also a master of disguise and voice tricks and clever schemes to act unseen or unrecognized. I do think that that’s important.

But I mean, besides that…what else is there? Erik and Don Juan both have villainous qualities, but they are expressed very differently. Erik is lonely; Don Juan is horny. Erik is disgusted by himself; Don Juan doesn’t give a fuck. Erik is reflective; Don Juan is impulsive. Erik loves possessively; Don Juan is incapable of love. Erik seeks control; Don Juan seeks mindlessness.

And most of all, Erik, unlike Don Juan, is an outsider. Don Juan is handsome and charming and rich. He can make anyone fall in love with him at first sight, if only for one night. He has the power to hurt women of all classes without retribution because he is a nobleman and therefore untouchable. He’s smart, to be sure, but even more than that, he’s lucky. The only thing that can hurt him is the wrath of God himself; humans can’t get in his way.

Erik has none of those advantages. He is the lowest of the low, who cannot hurt with impunity (unless it’s for someone else’s ends, like the Shah’s, and even then, it’s borrowed time, or unless he becomes very good at hiding). And so it’s not some heavenly force that eventually “defeats” him, but real and human compassion — something that he, unlike Don Juan, is rarely shown.

In the David Coward translation of the novel, the most full one I have access to, Erik describes his Don Juan Triumphant like this: “My Don Juan does not use a Lorenzo Da Ponte libretto, nor is it marred by drink, carnal love and vice in order to show them ultimately punished by God,” rather, “my Don is never licked by the flames of heavenly wrath, yet he burns, Christine, he burns!”

I really wish I understood French, because I cannot tell whether Leroux means that Erik’s Don Juan never does the sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll thing at all, or whether he does, and it goes unpunished by the powers that be. I’m leaning towards the latter. This Don Juan sounds very interesting. He also sounds very little like Erik.

In his footnote, Coward states that a Don Juan who never goes to hell is “a bold assertion of human will.” I see where he’s coming from, but I think he’s only half right. Listen to Christine’s description of the actual musical composition (sorry for the very long quotation):

“His Don Juan Triumphant sounded to me like a long, wrenching, magnificent cry of distress into which Erik had poured all his doomed unhappiness. I recalled the manuscript book filled with red notes and could easily imagine that such music had been written in blood. It took my on a journey through his suffering, into every corner of the abyss inhabited by the man with the devastated face; it showed me Erik banging his poor hideous head against the shadowy walls of his own hell, avidly fleeing the gaze of human beings to avoid filling them with horror. Stunned, breathless, abject, beaten, I listened to that explosion of gigantic chords which made suffering divine. Then unexpectedly the notes rising up out of the abyss gathered themselves into one single, monumental menacing flight, into a turning, gyring swarm that took off into the heavens as the eagle soars towards the sun, and a triumphant concatenation of sounds seemed to set the world on fire. At that moment, I knew that the work was finished and that Ugliness raised on the wings of Love had at last dared to look Beauty in the face!”

Is it just me or does this not sound very Don Juan, or very triumphant? It’s just…pain. Lots of pain. It ends on a note of hope with Erik falling in love, but he only gets to look. Not touch or have or experience. If someone is triumphing, it’s not Erik. If there is a Don Juan, it’s something else, his cage, his complement, his opposite, his oppressor. Something that never ends up getting punished, at least not by the universe as we know it.

I think this opera has Erik as its protagonist, but it is named for its villain. Don Juan is Raoul, or Philippe, or the opera managers, or the Shah and the little sultana, or the Sultan, or his parents. People who had opportunities that he never did and who use them to hurt people like him whom they can get away with hurting. Like Don Juan, they change shape through the years, but they’re still all the same. Erik lives in a world where the Don Juans always triumph, and it seems as though God himself is on their side.

So maybe Don Juan Triumphant is a bold assertion of human will, but not because Erik is evading hell, but because Erik believes that God hates him, and that he doesn’t deserve his hatred. He lays bare hell for all to see, and states that the wrong man has been put inside it. He condemns his society through the language of music and theater that he has always known, and inserts real human suffering into operatic artifice. And the work will die with him, because the world isn’t ready for the product of his pain.

I have many, many problems with Erik and his self-perception. But if I’m right about this… well. I think that’s pretty sexy of him indeed.

#angle o speak #poto #phantom #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #erik #the phantom #don juan triumphant

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye VIII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Picturesque day framed by the window of the brightly lit clinic, cool air swirling around them aiding Belle’s anxiety in whatever slight way it could. Fingers gripped at her knitted lavender cardigan, pressing her legs together to somehow prevent more chill to flow through the white floral dress. She seemed to focus on every other little thing while the man in a white coat in front of quickly typed and clicked in his own time.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Jeon.” The doctor smiled as if he just confirmed the happiness of a new family.

Six weeks passed since Belle took the dozens of pregnancy tests haunting her with pink pluses until finally the doctor gave the final verdict. Thankfully with the Spring Line show coming in close to around a couple months, she was able to avoid any conversation of whether the ritual worked.

Ritual. Fucking hell what year was this?

Her silence caused a slight awkward confusion to grip the doctor’s face, almost as if he was inching close to a verdict that something was wrong.

Nothing should be wrong, Belle reminded herself. Happy relationship, remember?

The woman quickly adorned the perfect smile on her face using her glossy eyes as the sparkle of joy. “Sorry…it’s just all very exciting to take in.” She chuckled and thankfully the doctor was immediately convinced giving her a proper smile.

“Of course—very happy news though. I’m sure your entire family would be elated.” His grin stretched from ear to ear like he was related to her some way.

Then again anyone who so much as knew the Jeon family seemed to have that mindset.

“I’ll have your report prepared in just a few minutes, Mrs. Jeon.” He nodded in reassurance while Belle leaned back on the chair.

Gaze moved to the window looking out at the people strolling back and forth living their lives. She wondered how many were living by their own accord. Based on their own needs. Were they happy with where they were? Some rushing in suits trying not to drop their coffees, mothers and fathers pushing their strollers with toddlers skipping next to them and then couples walking calmly in casual clothing.

When she was younger, Belle told herself she would not end up in any of those situations. She would get a car, halt on marriage and kids while focusing on her career entirely until her thirties at the very least.

The naivety of dreams. Dreams of a life no one could ever control. Dreams that were already in the hands of fate.

“Mrs. Jeon?” The doctor addressed for the third time.

Belle finally realized that was her name now, stripping back to reality. Even her name was not under her control any more. Legally she had her original name but people wouldn’t care. Taking the husband’s name was more popular. So now she was officially Mrs. Jeon to society.

Quickly smiling she accepted the envelope handed to her and bowed slightly. “Thank you, doctor.”

Walking out of the clinic into the beautiful day, she spotted Yoongi leaning back against the side of the car with his arms folded over his chest. Raven hair a little longer now hovering over his eyes as he watched her taking a deep breath at the entrance stairs. “So?” He asked, squinting a little in the sunlight.

“What do you think?” Belle mumbled with the envelope heavy in her hand much like the twisted feeling in her stomach. Stepping down to the end of the stairs, she looked around every corner that was visible to her. Scanning for any movement.

“No peeping in the bushes, don’t worry.” The older male reassured, pushing off the car and opening the door for the new mob queen. Even though he would never use that term in front of her without risking a kick on his foot.

Strolling to the other side of the car, Yoongi couldn’t help but mimic Belle’s scanning and ended up seeing a figure lurking in one of the alleys. Not that he was proud of it but Yoongi pretended to reach into his coat for a gun which evidently caused the figure to rush out to the streets.

“Fucking reporters.” Yoongi muttered under his breath before climbing back into the car and driving them back to the mansion.

Being invited to Sangria House during the day had not been on Taehyung’s to-do list but here he was anyway being driven to the establishment, by Kim Seokjin’s personal request.

The establishment exuded a different aura during the day as they parked to a halt in front of it. Flowers adorned the entrance in an arch matching the blossom trees behind the building creating a beautiful frame, most of the angels strolling around with their customers linked in hand while a lot of the juniors were simply having picnics under on the ground like it was their own paradise rather than people who entered.

As he walked into the makeshift garden, white coats welcomed him with a bow and led him into the private room with a brief statement of having a full days’ appointment with the best angel in the House.

Full day. Seokjin seemed to know his way around apologizing, he supposed.

Even on the inside things were so much more different. Customers were eating food normally instead chortling the whole way through; they were genuinely having good conversations with the red and lavender coats as if it was not going to lead anywhere. Purple drapes were replaced with more floral arrangements in strings trailing across the walls and he could have sworn butterflies passed them a moment ago.

The white coats stopped down the hallway to a familiar door knocking politely first.

Taehyung already had an achingly strong hope of who to see on the other side of the door.

And thank god, luck was on his side today.

The door opened and gracing him with her presence stood Angel in a different attire. It was still golden but a more casual hanbok with intricate floral designs on the overcoat that shimmer in the light against the silk. Less extravagance but more quality. Taehyung could immediately recognize who designed the dress.

Angel’s heart swelled finally being able to see the man again especially after the horrid way he was dragged out. She could still remember all the things he told her…all the things that haunted him now slowly taunted her.

Once the door closed behind Taehyung, the golden lady padded closer to the male.

Eyes moved around his body before she took a leap to cup his cheeks. “You’re okay.” A bright grin spread across her lips but her forehead knitted like she was close to crying. “Come in.” Gently Angel took his hand and walked to the table.

Taehyung couldn’t help but feel his entire body relax into her touch, leaning slightly into her touch before happily holding her hand. “You did full day appointments too?” He would have asked for that package in a heartbeat.

Angel smiled as they sat next to each other this time, shoulders brushing together. “No this is not a normal thing. Mr. Kim just wanted to apologize for the inconvenience caused last time.” She reached out and gave him some rice cakes. “I know you probably don’t want our tea right now so…I asked them to make these.” She pulled apart one rice cake in half and took the first bite to ensure him that it was safe to eat.

Warmth spread across his chest watching how her cheeks puffed when she ate, hiding her mouth and smiling, trying to stay elegant but still enjoy the taste. Taehyung had the strongest urge to press little kisses on her adorable cheeks.

The golden lady held up the other half of the cake to his mouth, giving him a reassuring smile that it was okay to eat.

Taehyung was not proud to admit that it did not matter if she offered him literal poison, he would still drink it just so the last thing he saw was that fucking smile. Though the cake did smell heavenly. Opening his mouth slightly he waited until Angel brought the cake so close that it brushed against his lips before he took the treat into his mouth. As soon as Taehyung bit into the soft texture, a burst of warm sweetness burst through and he felt a small lump in his throat.

How long had it been since he was able to really taste something properly? The man could never tell whether he was healing or not in the process of vomiting, taking medications and other methods Taehyung deemed boring or painful. It was only now at this incredibly simple moment of recalling just how tasty a rice cake was. How much he loved it in the years before.

“Is it bad?” Angel noticed the smile faded from his face. “I could go get something else.” She tried to get up but Taehyung softly touched her arm.

“No I’m just—” Taehyung chuckled after swallowing, eyes a little glossy as he met her gaze. “I haven’t had rice cake in a long time. It was really nice.”

She relaxed once more sitting next to him allowing a comfortable silence to seep through the air for a few moments.

Eventually the curiosity peeked far too much for her to control. “So…how was the wedding?”

A boulder seemed to drop and crash onto the hope of relaxing in this session now the question lingered. Taehyung could not blame Angel for being curious as she probably had been working the whole time it was happening.

But now he was reminded of the things other than the actual ceremony. The fake vows and calculated kiss under the blossom trees was more for the press.

Taehyung learned the hard way that the real ceremony was behind closed doors. He only found out after it happened because every relative from the Jeon family wanted to chat with him giving him no time to go and check on his sister. Now he wished he just pushed past all of them and ran to her.

It was too late though. By the time Taehyung got the chance to see Belle in the early morning, she was already in tears and shaking beyond belief before jumping into his embrace. She did not say a word to him or anyone for that matter. The whole two nights they were there, his sister stayed quiet merely smiling to the people who didn’t matter. When he found out about the secret ceremony Taehyung did the same.

With Jungkook, he didn’t even bother smiling. Every time he came close his fingers automatically curled into a fist conjuring up all the ways he could just get rid of him.

Now more than ever Taehyung grew aware that his baby sister was going through pain beyond belief while he healed. Aside from the heart clenching sadness, he grew determined to see an end for Jeon Jungkook.

“Taehyung?” Angel placed a hand on his arm gently before pulling away quickly. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.” Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress with her head hanging.

Taehyung jumped back to his current state and shook his head quickly. “No—” He shifted closer until his hand rested behind her. “No it’s okay. Please ask me anything you want.” He gave her a reassuring smile trying to meet her gaze again.

The golden lady’s eyes flickered up see him so close that the warmth of his body radiated onto her.

“The wedding—” He sighed. “The wedding was beautiful…in a sense, I suppose.” Taehyung spoke with bitterness touching his tongue, pursing his lips together. He wondered for a moment if it were too much to speak these things out. Were these walls thick enough the hold the dark thoughts in his head long enough? Was it worth it show a side of him to Angel that he despised? A side of him created as soon as Belle told him, holding a teary smile that she was going to marry a monster and bear his child for his own benefit.

It turns out that part of Taehyung didn’t care who saw or heard him. “Do you ever have that situation where—you despise someone so much—because they’ve hurt you or someone important to you?—a hatred that runs so deep, the mere thought of them—” He huffed out a breath to somehow to cool down the anger erupting inside him. “Makes you thinks things unimaginable.”

Angel’s chest rose and fell slightly as her eyes now grew glossy. In a rush of painful memory, she remembered those words rushing in her own mind at some point. “Yes.” She muttered immediately pressing her lips together. All the nights of hiding in a bathroom and covering her ears hoping that her ex-husband would just pass out drunk. The way she trained herself to zone out every time he climbed on top of her.

Eyes shining and vision blurring just a little but enough to see Taehyung’s welcoming features so she could feel at ease. “You end up stripping them down to being nothing but a human. Not someone powerful…or someone with status that you can’t touch…Just a human. Vulnerable…soft…if you just grabbed a knife and stuck it at the right place. They’re nothing but meat.”

Taehyung’s expression softened hearing such a composed woman speak out the unimaginable things in his mind already. “What if that powerful person is Jeon Jungkook?” It was not something he didn’t think about before. There were dark points in his time living in that place knowing the man was just sleeping soundly in the room with no one really watching over him.

“You can’t do that.” She shook her head.

“But you said—”

“No, Taehyung—your sister is now a Jeon.” Angel raised a hand to ensure that the man listens to her every word. “If you sister is widowed in the Jeon family, it won’t bode well on her. She’ll be tied down to the family until her death. If Jungkook is doing something then there needs to be a divorce.”

“How do you know all that?” His brows furrowed.

“Seok—Mr. Kim told me a story that Jeon Boyoung was a widow…she had to marry someone arranged by the family a day later. It’s a terrible life, Taehyung, remarried widows are not given any kind of respect in the family. The new husbands are allowed to be unfaithful to them or abusive to them without any consequence. The only reason Boyoung is doing somewhat well is because she is a Jeon by birth. Belle isn’t.” Concern riddled her expression hoping to the high heavens Taehyung understood what she was saying. “Jungkook cannot be killed while they’re still married.”

Taehyung shifted in his position feeling a slap of clarity right across his face. “Seokjin—how does he know all these things?” He shook his head. “And how does Belle get a divorce? That family controls everything.”

“Not everything.” Angel whispered so low, she had to lean closer to him. “Belle needs someone to support her alibi. Someone just as powerful as the Jeons. It’s not just them that controls everything, there are other influential people in the city.”

“How am I supposed to find someone just as powerful?”

Sighing shakily, she glanced around the room before moving to stand on her feet. A quick smile tugged at her lips almost as if this whole conversation never happened. “Would you like a take a stroll with me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung nodded before trying to return her smile, standing up as his mind filled with nothing but confusion.

By the time they reached the mansion the envelope in Belles hand scrunched up as if it has been read a million times already. She tried smoothing it out a little when the car parked but it still look just about as messed up as her mind orientation. Crinkles mimicking a drought riddled land and light stains of foundation remnants from her fingers.

Yoongi climbed out of the car first as the two guards from the front walked a bit closer. Standing on her side now, he waited for her to take a break to breathe before opening the door and watching her step out. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be waiting just outside the room.” He muttered as they moved to enter the mansion.

Guards as usual welcomed them with a bow and Belle had the urge increase her pace towards the second living room, her heart racing at the same speed. Fingers shook, body burned from her toes to her head and her legs moved slower than normal at the lack of concentration. She hated wearing a lavender cardigan today because the colour looked far bright for her actual mood.

Looking over her shoulder, Belle saw Yoongi standing with his hands in his jacket, giving her a reassuring nod.

She couldn’t hide it for too long. At some point it was going to get difficult to avoid everyone on the truth. Especially Jungkook.

For a moment Belle paused again hearing muffled voices on the other side of the office door. A usual sound now for the past few weeks. Padding closer to the wooden barrier, only one voice stood out like a teacher scolding an empty classroom. It would be easy to just turn away with the excuse that Jungkook was too busy but no one should be too busy for this. At least in her mind.

She stood close to the door that someone might mistake her for kissing it. Closing her eyes, Belle knocked twice before opening the door just enough to walk inside.

“Move the surviving associates to the other dens, fucking fight back next time!” Jungkook growled slamming the phone down so hard that she heard a crack. He stepped away from the phone, rubbing his face with a frustrated sigh padding through him.

Belle stood inside the room, immediately regretting that she entered but it had be done now or the courage would never arrive again. “Jungkook?”

“Not now.” He muttered without even giving her sideways glance.

Anxiety faded a little; the same heat but it ignited a different kind of fire in her belly. “Yes now.” She spoke firmly, lips pursed together.

Slightly reddened eyes met Belle’s gaze as he padded over to the table once again more, leaning on the edge, dark curls falling over his face. Jungkook tried to control his heavy breathing but it only seemed to get worse when he started thinking about it. “Belle, I’m not in the mood for any more drama today, alright?” He shook his head slowly, hands nearly trembling with fury.

Belle sighed to calm the fire down somehow as the envelope grew so heavy in her hand, she worried her grip would relinquish without her knowing. “This is important.” She took a step forward but quickly jumped back.

Jungkook knocked the phone off the table with the back of his hand, harsh thuds and broken rings echoing throughout the room. “Important?! What could be so fucking important that you can’t give me a moment of peace?” He stomped across from the table almost leaving steam behind him.

“My entire goddamn empire is breaking apart into pieces!” He threw his hand towards the fallen phone as his feet nearly stepped over hers. “I’m sure whatever you have to say can fucking wait.” Hot breath brushed against her already warmed up face.

“It can’t fucking wait!” Belle shouted back despite her mouth feeling incredibly dry, the heat around them collecting and making her a little dizzy. “This—” She jabbed the envelope at his chest not really caring whether it caught or not as it dropped to the ground. “This is what your screwed up family wanted, you got it.”

Eyes burned with tears once again, stomach clenching and her head spinning abnormally. “You won.” She smiled sadly. “Congratulations.” She seethed turning on her heel and stomping out of the door, slamming it so hard that it echoed through the whole mansion.

Stomach twisted in such a way that it almost meant to give Belle as much pain as humanly possible making her wince while tears forcibly streamed down her face. She rushed across the second living room completely ignoring Yoongi who tried to call out her name.

It didn’t take a genius to see that breaking the news had been worse than he expected. The family wanted the damn baby so why did he have to see Belle running out with one of the most heartbreaking expression he had ever seen on the girl? And Yoongi had seen a lot, much to his own discontent.

Yoongi tried to open his mouth to say something but Belle already flashed past leaving the gust of wind behind with her speed. If he knew what happened then it would be easier, right now nothing but confusion and a little sadness gripped his face.

“Get my car ready, please.” Belle announced to one of the guards who immediately bowed and rushed off to do her bidding.

The older male lurked at the edge of the second living room and watched a young looked guards who he remembered was called Jongho. One of Belle’s regular guards who usually kept an eye on her the most. The amount of influence this woman had in the entire Jeon mansion honestly could frighten even Yoongi. Every guards seemed to lose their composure and give her a sad look as if wanting to comfort her in her time of need.

Jongho leaned in a little to hear her whisper, possibly about her location because it had to be known to someone just in case. The young guard nodded and opened the double doors for her.

Yoongi would have rushed to the girl and provided some comfort but if she purposely ignored him then it was clear that her intention was to be alone. All he knew was no woman should ever come out looking that fucking upset after trying to tell their husband she was having their baby.

Jungkook tightened his jaw as the sound of the door still rung in the air. Roughly raking his fingers through his hair as if he was pulling it from the roots, gaze flickered down to the discarded envelope. Crouching down Jungkook picked up the slightly crumpled paper and ripped it open letting the little pieces drip carelessly to the ground.

His heart began to race when he saw a doctor’s pregnancy test report details. Forehead knitted reading through the report until the word ‘results’ caught his eye.

Then in big capital letters, his mistake came crashing down harder than a bag of bricks to his head.

POSITIVE.

All the anger faded away quicker than Jungkook prepared for as it replaced with a painful clench in his chest and the whole world momentarily crashing down on him.

The ritual worked.

‘You won’ she said.

His family won.

The walls of his mind closed in on itself tightly not knowing whether to spread elation or guilt through his body. Instead a deadly mixture of both feelings pumped in his veins making his fingers tremble for a whole different reason.

Jungkooks’ biggest den had been infiltrated by the police, once again with the mayor’s direct orders and the speculations of his hand being involved grew stronger by the day. He knew with all his heart how important it was to keep his business and empire safe but now…

What was more important now?

Something wet dropped onto the paper soaking through the ‘I’ and ‘E’ of the word ‘positive’ bringing him back to reality. Jungkook sniffled quickly, wiping away the tiny trickles of tears escaping down his cheek before opening the door.

“Where is she?” The question posed and everyone’s eyes were on him now, even the maids paused in their tracks to look at him. Could they notice the tears gathering in his eyes? Once again Jungkook had to succumb to feeling like a lost boy who didn’t know what to do without the guidance of his family.

Hair over his face managed to cover most of his distress but Yoongi only had to glance down at the paper clasped tightly in the younger male’s hand to know why.

“She drove out.” He nodded towards the entrance.

Jungkook did not utter another word before practically rushing out of the second living room but immediately paused when Yoongi stood in front of him.

He raised his hands in defense seeing Jungkooks’ glossy eyes burning into him at the disrespectful action. “Sorry, sir but—I believe your wife wanted to be alone right now.” Yoongi attempted to explain in the most careful way possible. Though his mind conjured much more colorful words. The last person she wants to see is the dickhead who impregnated her against her will.

Anger burned to his very core seeing Yoongi speak to him so casually. “Do you even know where she went? What if she gets into danger?!” Jungkook growled making the maids jump back and frantically continue on with their work.

Fortunately Yoongi had been significantly numbed to acts of intimidation. “I know where she is and she’ll be as just as safe there as she would be here. You don’t have to worry.” He shook his head, trying to keep his voice calm and collected.

“But—” Jungkook held up the paper pathetically, sighing shakily.

“I know…I went to the clinic with her.” Yoongi nodded. “She’s okay. She just needs a little space, it’s completely normal.”

It’s not normal and she wasn’t okay but he really just needed to live right now.

Jungkook had the strongest want to keep fighting and just push past to find her but where would that even lead? Ever since that night, Belle couldn’t even look at him properly. Honestly he didn’t have the courage to look at himself either. All his life his parents taught him that the family customs existed for good reasons. Reasons which kept them alive for so long. As a naïve child he found himself never finding anything wrong with these customs.

Until he had to go through them. Along with dragging the woman he grew to care about into it.

Turning away from Yoongi, Jungkook dragged his feet towards one of the couches in the second living room and slumped down.

“I made her think it wasn’t important.” He stared at the paper, reading the same word over and over again. “My father would always tell me how happy he was when my mother told him she was pregnant.” Jungkook scoffed, his vision blurring a little. “He picked her up and twirled her around right in front of all his men not giving a care if he would look weak.”

Yoongi pursed his lips together leaning on the wall behind him.

“Family makes you stronger, he said. Nothing stronger than family.” Jungkook pressed down the inner corners of his eyes with his index finger and thumb, shutting his eyes tightly to stop any more tears from flowing.

“Anyone can pretend to be happy at first.” Yoongi spoke plainly. “It’s what you do for the next twenty years that actually counts.”

Jungkook licked his trembling lips not completely convinced but it wouldn’t be the first time he succumbed to the alluring beauty of a lie.

Clouds spread out to welcome the heavenly blue and golden warmth as Belle padded across the entrance gardens of the Sangria House. For a second, a few people stopped with their usual activities to stare at her, twist of recognition on their faces. With a sigh Belle hugged her cardigan again being the only comfort for today despite the colour being so harsh on her tired eyes.

Through the entrance doors, she looked around the area like a slightly lost puppy. The lobby used most of the natural light making it look like a beach hut of some sort as the warmth was now replaced with fresh cool air.

Belle hoped with all her soul that the person she wanted could just appear right here out of luck. Unfortunately luck was not a trustworthy friend in recent months.

More eyes now fixated on her presence and a figure even padded towards her; tall with lines adorning his face, tattoo peeking out from his shirt and a smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you open?” The man’s gaze trailed up and down her body. Waft of cologne and tobacco swirling around his aura as he moved closer.

“Excuse me?” Brows furrowed but before she could channel any more of her frustration, a red coat rushed over to her side.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeon…” The red coat bowed in a meek tone even though it was not her fault in the slightest.

The rude customers’ smile immediately disappeared into a look of despair and fear, widened eyes staring back at Belle. “Mrs. Jeon…” He bowed so low that he almost vanished from her line of vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“Would you have continued on with your shenanigans if I wasn’t Mrs. Jeon?” She glared down at the male.

He gripped at the fabric of his trousers tightly, still bent down as if ready to be flogged.

“I assumed too quickly, Mrs. Jeon. Please accept my deepest apologies.” His voice shook slightly knowing the smallest word to Jungkook about this behavior would end in a whole lot of limbs being lost.

Belle sighed lightly, averting her gaze. “It’s alright. Just make sure I don’t find you doing it again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jeon…” The man smiled giving repeated bows as he backed away. “You are most kind.”

The man now led away by the red coat, Belle was being hosted by one of the white coats who asked what she needed today.

The previous aching in her stomach seemed to get worse despite getting the fresh air while even the mildest rush of heat from the day increased tenfold when it reached her skin.

Oh god…not now.

“Park Jimin, please. If he’s free.” Belle spoke, her strength wavering a little as every part tried to suppress the pain in her chest pushing something up to her throat.

Giving her another bow the white coat led her off to one of the private rooms.

Once again her feet seemed drag across the floor like the world moved too much to catch up properly. More swirling around in Belle’s head, the bitterness in her throat erupted with cruel strength, forcing her to grip on the edge of the door to steady herself.

“Mrs. Jeon? Are you okay?” The white coats’ hands hovered over her to prevent any dreaded fall but distant enough for manners.

Belle gave her a shaky smile through she still held onto the edge as if her life depended on it. “Just a little queasy…” Stomach clenched again and her mind grew stubborn, only thinking about something heavy being pushed up her throat almost choking her. “Is there a—” She tried to swallow it down but it seemed to get more violent. “Is there a bathroom anywhere?”

Her eyes widened before quickly nodding and gesturing towards the private room. “This has a bathroom, madam.” The younger girl tried to gently lead her inside where a small door stood closed.

Passing the little empty table, Belle felt saliva flooding inside her mouth until drool almost leaked out of the sides forcing her to burst open through the door without waiting for the girl and throwing herself in front of the toilet.

Knees ached against the cold wooden floor, chest lurching painfully as the contents of her stomach spewed out in the form of a burning liquid. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes struggling to breathe, a small part hoping it was over before her stomach lurched again.

She vaguely heard footsteps coming closer before her hair was being brushed back gently and her back soothingly rubbed.

Belle coughed feeling a harsh burn in her chest but finally being able to breathe easy as the nausea faded albeit taking its sweet time. As soon as she turned to the side, a hand towel gestured her way. She accepted it with a rush of gratitude as she wiped off her mouth still letting out small painful coughs.

Glossy reddened eyes flickered over to the side, seeing a familiar pair of sultry eyes and pouty lips look back at her with an expression of concern.

“You okay?” Jimin whispered, hand sliding from her back to her shoulder, squeezing it a little as a form of comfort.

Belle sighed before pursing her lips, more tears threatening to flood out if she continued to speak. So the woman merely shook her head, chin trembling and heart crumbling into pieces. The action alone held more truth than anything she ever forced herself to say.

His expression softened not needing any type of explanation as to why Belle looked so upset. Jimin saw the whole thing with his own eyes. No one could ever come out of that and still feel the same. All he could truly do was pull her close and wrap her into a warm embrace, allowing the woman to sob into his shoulder.

Fingers curled into the lavender fabric, sobs now pushing out of her as Jungkooks words replayed over and over again. All the smiles, laughter and kisses. All of them were fake. Nothing was real. Now more than ever Belle had been forced awake from the fantasy that began to thicken far too much. It stripped down to the harsh reality. When her whole future was taken away in one night.

They embraced until their legs fell asleep before eventually moving over to the main private room. Jimin’s hands still on Belle’s arms carefully guiding her to a seat.

Once the new air brushed in, the nausea slowly fizzled out allowing her to breathe in without feeling like a nasty potion being conjured in her throat.

As the pair sat across from one another a moment of silence lingered. Whether to consolidate the memory of their embrace or just time to adjust to their usual setting, both of them were not quite sure.

Then she spoke in a raspy and exhausted voice.

“I always thought I’d feel like the happiest woman in the world when I got pregnant.” Belle said with her head hanging, tears still freshly formed and a heart that could not seem to stop clenching into itself like it hid from something. “Every time I saw a baby smile…I’d always think…I’m going to have that one day with the man I love and he loved me.” She shook her head before scoffing at the naivety. All those stupid dreams of a happy life filled with love, loyalty and trust. Everything replaced by deceit and manipulation.

Jimins’ could feel the burning behind his eyes watching the broken shell of a strong woman speak out thoughts of a time when she was whole. Fingers twitched wanting to embrace her again but the moment for that passed. Now they both had to come to terms with speaking the truth. “You–you can still be happy…” He winced a little at his own words. “Arranged marriages can—” He swallowed hard. “—they can work out through time.”

Not this kind of arranged marriage. At least some arranged marriage gave the couple a chance to say agree or disagree on things. Here Jungkook merely took a fake girlfriend, then he and his family proceeded to do whatever they needed to her for their own benefit. All she had to was sit there, smile and take it.

Belle smiled at the lavender figure as if to reassure him that she appreciated his help. “It’s—complicated…” She chuckled, a small droplet trickling down her cheek. Averting her gaze, she wiped away her tears quickly with a light sniffle. “I supposed I shouldn’t complain. You probably have it worse.”

Jimin hummed in disagreement, shaking his head. “I feel safer here than anywhere else.” His brows furrowed lightly. “Seokjin—” He stammered a little accidentally calling Mr. Kim by his name. “I know he has a reputation but he’s a good man. Really. Never gets angry unless it’s at customers which is rare. He’s always keeps us safe.”

Eyes flickered to meet his, blinking slowly as her curiosity now peeked more than she ever felt it before. “But…what he did to Taehyung…” Belle gestured towards the table before them which had a half-drunken glass of water near her.

He leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “To protect Angel.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Taehyung didn’t do anything. Why would he get punished like that?” Belle kept her voice soft but loud enough for them to hear. As her words became consolidated in the air and in their memories, something struck in her mind that seemed to muffle everything out for a moment.

Jimin paused thinking over what to say before slowly taking a breath. “His… methods are little—”

Calculated. Planned.

For the first time in too fucking long, Belle could see past this thick veil of confusion. It wasn’t all just cruel fate. Her heart raced so hard it tried to crash through her ribcages and even her toes began shaking from the rush of adrenaline pumping in each vein.

Taehyung wasn’t drugged so Angel could be safe.

Tears dried up and a new rush of determination touched her broken form. Belle leaned in, gaze fixated on his, speaking in a firm tone. “Is there any way I could organize a meeting with Seokjin?”

Taehyung tried his best to suppress the intense heat on his cheeks feelings Angels’ soft hands interlock with his slightly rough ones. Through one of the backdoors, they were welcomed by the bright light of the beautiful day and the beautiful blossoms in all their glory.

Pink, red and purple petals falling to the green ground or continuing to fly through the wind to their own personal freedom. Subtle scent of jasmine and lemons touching his nostrils despite the actual plants being situated all the way at the end of the large backyard. A few angels both red and lavender wore more comfortable clothing rather than extravagant while entertaining their customers. Some of them danced in front of the picnic set up or simply sat with them engaged in light-hearted conversation.

He almost forgot the purpose of their visit to this slab of imaginary heaven as Angel led him past the laughing the patrons and towards the jasmines hanging on the fence just facing all the lemon trees. Taehyung wondered if this was what they used for their tea recipes. The small wonder momentarily halted when he felt himself being pulled under one of the lemon trees.

Subtle scent now became potent in his nose, the heavenly jasmine and citrus mixing with Angel’s sweet vanilla perfume. It would have been overwhelming if Taehyung had not lost his focus when meeting the golden ladys gaze.

Her grip on his hand loosened a little but a few fingers still struggled to depart from one another. “I wanted to say this to you in more privacy. The rooms are always watched.” Angel whispered with a light smile. “I’m so sorry…I was the one who put the drug in your tea.” She hung her head. “I didn’t know it was going to make you sick.” The usual composed walls around her once again opted to fade away when standing so close to Taehyung. “I—I thought it was going to make you feel more relaxed and calm—I didn’t…” Angel paused in her shaky words when she felt his hand cupping her cheek gently.

Taehyung watched her beautiful eyes getting glossier every second she continued speaking, each second his heart sunk deeper into a pit. “Did Seokjin ask you to do it?”

Angel pursed her lips, blinking frantically to get rid of the tears forming. “Yes.”

He scoffed averting his gaze, rush of heated fury erupting in his belly. “They’re all the same.”

“No…” She shook her head immediately holding onto his arms. “Taehyung, look at me.” The leaves rustled in a gust of wind causing her hair to flow over her lips a little. “Seokjin isn’t the man you think he is.”

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed searching her expression to find some sense of delusion or lack of surety but the woman looked collected as normal. “What kind of a man is he then? Who drugs their own customers for intimidation?” He seethed more so directed at Seokjin than the beauty before him.

Angel glanced quickly to the side ensuring that nobody was close to listen in. “The helping kind. Taehyung, if he was anything like Jungkook you’d be dead by now or he’d never allow you to see me ever again.” Her own heart jumped at the very mention of the idea. “Seokjin would never do what Jungkook did to your sister.”

He tightened his jaw as his stomach twisted and leaped causing an ache in abdomen. “What?”

“I know about the deal.” She whispered. “Seokjin told me as soon as you walked into Sangria House.” Angels’ bottom lip trembled moving one of her hands to caress his cheeks.

“How much did he tell you?” Taehyung swallowed down hard.

“Everything. He always does.” She smiled sadly, brushing her thumb over his temple. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Her smile quickly disappeared however as she halted her actions. “But your sister isn’t.”

“What can I do?” He muttered leaning in closer with the guise of being secretive but really he desperately wanted to close the distance between them. “Please tell me.”

Door opened gently by Jimin who quickly bowed as soon as they walked inside. A rush of cold air flowed through even Belles’ thick cardigan gushing from the air conditioner swirling with the soft linen waft of cologne. Seokjin sat at his table in the middle of writing something out on a paper before he peered through his glasses to see the two figures walk into the room. A calm expression across his handsome features as per usual despite clearly being disturbed in his work.

Belle padded further inside, fingers intertwined with each other and her posture at its perfect stature determined to look her most composed.

Seokjin quickly stretched a smile across his plump lips before standing up as a sign of respect. “Madame Belle, it’s always nice to see you.” He gave her a nod. Eyes flickered over to Jimin who stood politely in the corner looking a bit confused as to what he was supposed to do. “Thank you for escorting our prestige guest here, Jimin.”

It was a kind but clear sign that the lavender adorned male could leave the vicinity for their private conversation.

“Jimin can stay.” Belle glanced towards him before facing Seokjin. “I trust him if you do.”

Silence plunged into the room as both males still attempted to figure out just what Belle was trying to do or say. However Seokjin had to suppress a smirk at a few theories conjuring in his mind. He gestured for the two of them to sit at the vacant chairs.

Jimins’ confused gaze flickered from Belle to Seokjin before quickly closing the door of the office and following the woman to the chairs, sitting down as soon as she did.

Belle brushed away any creases on her dresses as she situated herself on the chair, the chill creating goosebumps on her bare skin.

Seokjin pushed away his blazer careful not to crease the ends as he sat down. Sighing happily, he smiled at the both of them leaning back on the chair. “What can I do for you, Madame Belle? Has Jimin been doing something inappropriate?”

The lavender males’ heart jumped frantically looking over at Belle with wide eyes.

“No. In fact the reason I wanted him here is to thank him…for helping me answer a question I could never wrap my head around.”

“And what question is that?”

Belle searched his expression, heavily impressed with how he could keep such a composure. Deep down she almost worried that her theory might sound silly at the end. “Why would a man with such a heavy security system in his facility—and security guards the size of buildings feel the need to drug a potential threat?” She squinted lightly.

Silence plunged into the room like a welcomed disease as Seokjins’ smile appeared back again even wider. “Well…I have less than glorious methods sometimes but it’s all to protect my beloved angels. Especially my wife.” He explained in the most rehearsed way possible even though they both knew it was merely a dialogue recited many times for people more gullible.

“Angel was never in danger.” The corner of her lip twitched as her goosebumps dialed down through the warmth radiating inside. “Your angels are always safe. At all times. The second something goes wrong, the guards are there in seconds.” Twitching turned into a steady smirk that for the first time Belle did not have to think about or force. “You knew that.”

“Knew what?” Seokjin asked, much to Jimins’ confusion, the man looked utterly pleased with the exchange.

“You knew Taehyung would never do anything to hurt Angel.” Belle shook her head. “You just needed an incident…the perfect incident to get anyone who could carry a simply vial to the Jeon mansion.” She chuckled softly at her own gullibility despite her cried out eyes burning in the harsh cold wind. “The most foolproof infiltration. Make Jungkook’s beloved girlfriend think her brother was terribly sick and sneak a police officer in to play the medic just at the right time.”

The older male grinned brighter than Belle or Jimin had ever seen it. Clearly this was not a dark secret he meant to keep from the woman otherwise the conversation would have turned into something a lot more different. “I must say, Ms. Belle…” Seokjin leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. “I’ve been at this for years now—possibly longer than Jungkook has been leader. Never once did anyone decide to question me or my involvement in traitorous behaviors. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re a powerful man.” Belles’ smile faded away for a moment. “They won’t question anything you do even if they know it’s wrong—because you can make them lose everything with a flick of your fingers.” She pursed her lips together. “I’ve already been one of them once…I’m not doing it again.”

Seokjin nodded slowly, noticing how her gaze mended from shattered shards to the woman who was ready to pick all the pieces up and mend herself together. “And who are you now? Mrs. Jeon Jungkook? Kim Taehyungs’ sister? Or Madame Belle?”

It always came down to this, didn’t it?

In a series of mind breaking and heart clenching events, one rushes out of the woods to find themselves wondering if they were the same person who entered in the first place. Was she still the same little sister who desperately wanted her brother to get better? Was she the perfect wife for Jungkook? Or was she the designer striving to be as successful as Saito herself?

Maybe Belle was all of them combined. Or none of them and this was all a sick dream playing out in her head but it couldn’t be.

The path in front of Belle now split into two; a fork awaiting her to step into to lead into a future that might make more sense than this one.

This felt too real. It didn’t feel good or satisfying nor did it make her feel relaxed.

This was real. It was time for her to wake up and draw the curtains on this fantasy.

Sun began moving over to the other side when Belle drove back to the mansion after feeling a significant brush of relief in her body.

For the first time she walked through the door with an air of both confidence and a little fear when her hand caressed her belly. You’re not going to be born in this mess. I promise. Padding across Belle smiled at Jongho who waited politely just at the entrance before returning a smile of his own with a nod.

Inside the main living room, Yoongi paced around biting down his fingernails mostly trying to stop himself from drinking something at the bar. Not that it would help since it was full with fucking apple juice. He wished he bought a coffee earlier but in his past experiences a boost of caffeine almost never helped with stress.

Footsteps made him pause in his tracks. A rush of calm pulsed through him when Yoongi saw Belle walking towards the male. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He whispered padding closer. “You okay?”

The woman stayed silent, completely dried out of tears and Jimin comforted more than enough. Now the only thing left was that feeling of exposure when the truth finally revealed itself. She felt naked in front of it but free from the lies. “I just went out to the Sangria House, I was safe.” Okay was a difficult word to associate with her right now.

Yoongi nodded fingers curling into themselves before he repeated the same action at the payphone.

“Taehyungs’ there too, I’m told.” Belle didn’t get a chance to catch him but she now knew that Seokjin had no intentions of hurting him in the first place. “Where’s Jungkook?”

He gulped, averting his gaze and gesturing towards the stairs. “He—read the report. Hasn’t come out of the room yet.”

Stomach started doing leaps again, fear rising that she might have another episode with her head over the toilet. Belle hummed mulling over her thoughts before leaning into his cheek and pressing a chaste kiss. One couldn’t even truly call it a kiss, just a light press of her soft lips against his burning skin. When she pulled away the woman smiled proceeding to cause more heat to bundle up inside him. “Thank you.”

Yoongi merely breathed out a sigh unable to speak as Belle gently walked past him up the stairs.

He felt the guards’ eyes on him, some of them judging his reddened cheeks while others smirking. Quickly clearing his throat Yoongi bolted towards the guestroom.

In the same gentleness Belle did earlier, opening the door with care peeking inside briefly before completely entering and closing the door behind her. Turning around Jungkook sat at the edge of the bed just as she was the first time they came into the mansion. His head hung, dark locks forming a slight curtain while his hands rubbed his face, light sniffling riddling the air mixing in with the strong stench of tobacco.

Gaze flickered over to the study table to see a few used cigarettes including one still exuding smoke almost halfway used.

The woman winced accidentally taking a big waft when she tried to breathe in causing her to cough and break the silence.

Jungkooks’ head shot up hearing the sound, quickly jumping off the bed and rushing to the study table. Picking the cigarette he roughly pressed it against the ashtray waving the smoke away from the woman. “I’m sorry.” He muttered in a slightly shaky voice.

“For what?” Belle padded towards the bed to her side, placing her bag on the nightstand before carefully sitting at the edge. Her legs melted into the soft surface finally being able to rest physically at least. Lazily she swung them over fully onto the bed after taking her shoes off, shifting back she rested her back on the headboard.

Jungkook leaned on the edges of the table before hanging his head again. “For everything.”

The vague answer was always the easiest.

Belle reached out for the throw blanket and placed it over the bare parts of her legs providing extra comfort and warmth. “You were stressed, I should’ve waited.” She replied simply.

“You shouldn’t have to wait to tell me something like that.” He shook his head finally turning around to face her. “Six weeks.”

“Six weeks.” Belle gulped, fingers beginning to tremble a little. “I had to make sure.”

Jungkook blinked slowly before nodding as he padded over to his side of the room, pushing off his shoes. Sitting against the headboard the male let out a small sigh as he unbuttoned one more button on his white shirt to feel less constricted. “How big would it be right now?”

“Probably the size of a peanut.” She looked down at her belly and instinctively caressed it.

He immediately flickered down at her belly, still unable truly to understand how a human was going to grow in there. Despite the things Jungkook had seen in his life this was going to be the most surreal of them all. “You’re important to me, Belle.” He reached out and placed a hand over her belly. “Both of you.”

Belle moved her fingers over his and caressing the back of his hand slowly.

“Everything’s a mess right now I can’t—” Jungkook sighed leaning on the side of his head against the headboard. “I can’t think straight.” With his biggest den taken down, one after the other like a cruel domino effect his empire seemed lose each of its pillars. At the same time he had to try and pick all the pieces while protecting the standing pillars making his mind curl up into itself. As if a survival mode to get away from extreme stress.

She shook her head, patting his hand. “It’s okay.” Belle whispered knowing the word lost all its meaning a long time ago.

Jungkook tilted his head to search her expression watching the dull sunlight shine onto her locks making them look golden. Like a sailor being allured to the siren, he leaned in and pressed a kiss on her cheek and another on just on the corner of her lips. “I want you to be happy.” Nose nudged against her cheek.

Belle closed her eyes momentarily feeling his hot kisses against her skin, heavy remnants of tobacco on his breath forcing her to breathe through her mouth for a while.

Pulling away, the male shifted to lay his head on Belle’s lap facing her belly and blanket covered thighs used as a pillow. Finger traced at the little creases on the dress from her sited position as Jungkook relished in the scent of her perfume hopefully masking his cigarette riddled one. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the empire.” He whispered, gaze fixated on her belly. “So long you’re both happy…I’d give everything else up.”

Her heart swelled for a brief moment as Belle allowed herself to succumb back into the comforts of his words. His beautiful lies. “Do you promise?” Shaky hand moved to brush through Jungkook’s hair.

His gaze flickered up to meet her glossy one, giving her a soft smile. “I promise.” Jungkook looked back down at her belly caressing her skin through the clothing. “I’ll always keep you happy.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip to suppress the sob being forced out of her, closing her eyes shut tightly to stop the tears but they merely created constellations on the womans’ lashes. Letting out a small sigh she relaxed into his touch, struggling to swallow down the lump in her throat.

Quickly for one of the final times Belle forced herself to stretch a smile across her lips.

I’m not happy.

Cheeks finally cooled down as Yoongi leaned back on the chair of his temporary bedroom, dark as the thick curtains perfectly shielded him from the sunlight. Fingers scratched at the fabric of the armrest not thinking of anything in particular but merely drowning in an empty zone away from reality just for a few moments. He grew accustomed to this feeling after seeing one too many dead bodies of children.

Two knocks rapped on the door before it opened to reveal the senior maid, Nana. “Hello, Master Osamu.” She smiled closing the door behind her and walking further inside to do her usual cleaning starting with fixing his bed up.

Yoongi made it himself but unfortunately not the way that it was usually designed to fit the aesthetic of the house since most of the fancy cushions were on the floor. “Sorry I’ll—” He tried to get up from the chair.

“No no it’s okay. This is my job after all.” Nana chuckled picked up all the cushions and threw them onto the bed to make it easier for her to organize them.

The younger male smiled and relaxed back onto the seat with a light sigh.

“You did well. Helping Mistress Belle like that.” She muttered placing all the bigger pillows close to the headboard then the medium ones just afterwards.

Yoongi chuckled nervously observing her actions and how effortlessly she put everything in place when it took his entire soul to neaten the blanket. “What’re friends for?” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Nana smirked, fluffing the larger pillows. “Just friends?”

Eyes widened at the sudden change of tone from the older female making him stammer a little as he spoke.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, boy.” She continued speaking casually while wiping off the collected on the side lamp. “This isn’t just an undercover mission anymore and you know it.”

Yoongi could have sworn his core shivered hearing those words so easily fall from Nana’s lips without a damn care in the world. Glancing over at the door of his bedroom, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “How did you—”

“I raised Jungkook, you think I wouldn’t be able to see a rat under my nose?” Nana continued to keep her gaze anywhere but the younger male pretending like they were either having a regular conversation or none at all since Yoongis’ tongue seemed to lose its purpose. “Don’t get so scared. I don’t rat police officers out, you’re doing the right thing.” She neatened up Yoongis’ things on the nightstand. “Every king needs to be taught that they can crumble just as easily as a servant.”

Once everything stood in order, Nana stood in front of the male with a bright smile. “And every servant knows when to help the right people. I clean Jungkooks’ office too.” She gave him a bow and turned on her heel to leave the room.

Needless to say Yoongi was heavily reminded of how Namjoon and him were not the only ones who wanted an end to Jungkooks’ reign.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 years

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Monthly Reads | October 2020

Happy 28th! I probably sound like a broken record already but I have to say it again: this fandom has an insane amount of talented writers! I am in awe! Every single one of you is my hero! ♥♥♥ Here are all the 23 fics I read and loved this month:

✧ Welcome to The Rivalry | 2tiedships2 | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - enemies to lovers - rivalry - college - 19k “Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?” Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond. “I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?” Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?” “Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?” As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again. Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

✧ Back to Seventeen | crimsontheory | teacher - soccer coach - 26k As a first grade teacher in a small town in Illinois, Harry’s life is pretty simple. He loves his job, is close with his family, and has a best friend he would go to the ends of the earth for. When a new soccer coach starts at the local high school, things start to get a bit more exciting for Harry. Because that coach just happens to be Louis Tomlinson; the guy Harry was unrequitedly in love with in high school. Or the one where Louis moves back to his hometown and Harry realizes he’s still not over his high school crush.

✧ Sigh for Sigh | logogram | historical - a/b/o - regency - miscommunication - pining - marriage of convenience - 11k When his father's sudden illness forces Harry to get married in a hurry, he's delighted that Lord Louis Tomlinson is the one who makes him an offer. Being married to Louis is just as wonderful as he imagined, except for one thing-- they haven't mated yet. Or the one where they're both idiots, Harry's afraid to say what he's thinking, and Louis's just trying to be honorable.

✧ We Can Find a Place to Feel Good | yeah_alright | 1960s - High School - school dances - 8k 14-year-old Harry is ecstatic to finally be old enough to experience the time-honored tradition of school dances. But with each year that passes and each dance he attends, he’s realizing they’re not all he used to hope they’d be. Especially when he can't actually dance with the person he most wants to. Maybe he and Louis can figure out their own ways to keep dancing, anyway.

✧ At Risk, I Fold | clare328 | canon compliant - established relationship - angst - emotional hurt/comfort - miscommunication - anxiety - implied/referenced alcohol abuse - 15k 2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

✧ Carry These Feelings | LadyLondonderry | fae Á faires - established relationship - magic - 3k Harry is one of the fae, and has to return to Court once a year to please the Queen. He makes a detour on his way home to Louis. Two weeks and I'll be home.

✧ Hung Up High in the Gallery | lovelarry10 | friends to lovers - slow burn - pining - 14k "Louis, lay still!” Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?” “Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?” “Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occurred to me until tonight?” ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

✧ Love you in the dark | Perzikje | historical - wedding night - arranged marriage - dubious consent - 10k The story of a historical wedding night: in which Louis is quite unaware as to just how clueless his brand new husband is about sex. They try their best to figure it out together.

✧ Victorian Boy | audreyhheart | historical - victorian - royalty - enemies to friends to lovers - slow burn - angst - murder mystery - 101k Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

✧ the anticipation of knowing you | sweetrevenge | strangers to lovers - neighbors - light angst - 13k Hello Neighbor! Just wanted to let you know that you were having sex so loud and scarily I called our building manager and security officer because I thought you were hurt. P.S. I sent them away when I heard you yell ‘cock’. I’m sorry that I heard that, but I wanted you to know in case they stopped by to check on you or something. Sorry! Your neighbor Louis Tomlinson in apartment #306 After Louis overhears his next door neighbor having sex, he doesn’t really expect anything but awkward hallway encounters to come from it. Instead, he’s surprised to find himself in a whirlwind pen pal relationship with the sweet, albeit loud, baker next door.

✧ We'll Be All Right | dandelionfairies | married couple - accridents - 13k Harry is performing his one night only show in LA but there are four very important people missing.

✧ The Last Song of Your Life | reminiscingintherain | famous/not famous - Rays of Sunhsine - homophobia - 21k As Harry glanced around at all of the faces, he froze as a very familiar pair of blue eyes leapt out at him. A pair of eyes that he hadn’t seen since before the One Direction bomb exploded. A pair of eyes that he never expected to see again. ~~~~ or the famous/not famous AU, with first love, miscommunication, interfering bandmates, and adorable little sisters.

✧ Her | jaerie | a/b/o - trans character - transitioning - dysphoria - anxiety - quarantine - 7k The buttery swipe of a high quality lipstick was almost a sexual experience in and of itself. This time a deep colour with purple undertones which drew out the emphasis of long, dark lashes and perfectly contoured cheekbones. It was a look for loose and styled curls, feeling the classy formal nightclub vibes reflected back from the mirror. The silky plum coloured slip dress would be perfect to debut. The tags still needed to be cut free from the new garment that hung in the closet, but tonight was the night to set it free. When Harry gets home, she can finally be who she wants to be. Letting someone else in always feels like a distant daydream to her... until it suddently isn't.

✧ Loving You's the Antidote | lululawrence | Stylinshaw - a/b/o - touch deprivation - hospitalization - soulmates - polyamory - anxiety - friends to lovers - no smut - 11k Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly. It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick. Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

✧ Like A Neon Sign | reminiscingintherain | canon compliant - mentions of death - fluff - 8k Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

✧ We Had Everything | lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes) | exes to lovers - getting back together - famous/not famous - 3k “You know Harry’s coming, yeah?” Louis’ fingers twitched, faltering where he was straightening the knot in his tie as he tried to ignore the false nonchalance in Zayn’s voice. He had no idea how he missed the name on the invite list, how he skipped over the initials on the small gifts, didn’t notice the elegant swirl of Harry’s name inked onto an emerald green place card. Or, Louis and Harry fell apart, and Louis' never forgiven himself. He gets a second chance at Zayn and Liam's wedding.

✧ True To Your Heart | reminiscingintherain | Mulan AU - a/b/o - 13k The world was at war with itself. In the small country of Enilenif, in a tiny, often overlooked corner of the world, young Alphas were quickly signing up to fight, desperate to protect their Omegas and their country as Aidem began to attack their borders. A few defiant Omegas tried to enlist as well, but were firmly turned away with disapproving looks by the staff in the office. Harry Styles was one such Omega, sighing heavily as he kicked at a small stone on his walk home.

✧ What the Water Gave Me | larryatendoftheday | fantasy - mermaids - long distance relationship - 29k When a mermaid crawls out of the sea to listen to Harry sing, it changes everything.

✧ it’s hard for me to go home | localopa | angst - breakup - getting back together - 5k don’t call me baby again

✧ The Prince and the Thief | jaerie | Fairy Tale - a/b/o - strangers to lovers - violence - kidnapping - threats of rape/non-con - 19k Harry is an omega prince locked in a tower and Louis is the thief sent to kidnap him. Nothing turns out as planned.

✧ Up On The Shore | wordsnnotes | Eroda AU - magic - epistolary - friends to lovers - childhood friends - emotional/psychological abuse - angst - long-distance relationship - domestic violence - 34k Magic has been outlawed on Eroda ever since President Cowell came into power, and all the magic people had to go live on the island of Stonell. Things are not looking good for Harry when he finds out he's a magician and his abilities seem more and more out of control. Thankfully, his best friend Niall's mother has the idea to put him in touch with Louis, a magician boy living on Stonell. They begin a secret correspondence and drama ensues. Or: Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk, and I'm struggling to make it understandable without using normal narration.

✧ this town's just an ocean now | louistomlinsons | exes to lovers - friends to lovers - summer romance - miscommunication - childhood friends - light angst - fluff - 31k “I have really great friends. Do you remember Louis? You guys were always hanging out when you were growing up.” Harry remembers Louis. Harry remembers Louis. Suddenly, his throat feels way too dry, despite the ice cream he keeps licking at. He chokes a little on a chocolate chip before saying, “I, uh. I remember Louis.” Her face brightens. “We have dinner every Sunday. He owns the house now. His parents moved further north, and he wanted to stay here, so they just gave it over. Now if you want to worry about someone being lonely, that’s who I worry about.” inspired by watermelon sugar, featuring picnics on the beach and boys being dumb

✧ I Am the Blinking Light | dearmrsawyer | ghosts - shipwreck - 19k There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. They say a ghost haunts the lighthouse, and you can hear it calling out in loneliness on the ocean waves.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #monthly reads #completed fics #larry fics

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