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#hes really living up to meaning of 'Desdemona.'

odinsblog · 16 days

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“Yeah, I mean, in 2018 was the first Shakespeare and race festival that I curated at the Globe. And at that time, there was less vitriol, but it was more like, why are we talking about Shakespeare and race? Shakespeare's got nothing to do with race.

So that led me to thinking about writing this book. But it was in 2020, when I launched the anti-racist Shakespeare webinars, that there was a horrible backlash, very racist backlash. And my own ethnic origins were brought into the conversation.

Oh, she's a woman of color. That's why she's talking about race. And actually, I had been at the Globe for 17 years by that point, you know?

And so that backlash is about ownership. It's about people feeling that something is being taken away from them.

And after the Black Lives movement, Black Lives Matter movement went global, and organizations like museums and galleries and theaters started to take it seriously, that's when you started to see a really racist backlash against any kind of progressive movement, whether it's in a theater or a museum. And I certainly had to face that in 2020.

I was a little bit worried about it, probably more so in the UK, because I think in the UK there's a special sense of ownership of Shakespeare in the way that there isn't in the US. So I'm American, but I'm also a Pakistani. And so I think it was really, it's a double whammy for the British.

Whereas in America, I feel like I was less worried because Americans don't mind other Americans talking about Shakespeare. So I was in the UK, concerned about that. But I think it obviously didn't stop me because what I'm trying to do is keep Shakespeare around.

And I'm explicitly not advocating canceling Shakespeare. And I think that's what they all thought I was doing when I was running those webinars.

So Shakespeare sets Othello in 16th century Venice, which was a very multicultural society because Venice was a sort of trading giant in this time period. So it was really financially lucrative for them to have people from all backgrounds working and living in Venice. And so it's about a Black African, known as a Moor in that time period, who was the captain of the Venetian army.

And it starts with another member of the army sort of screaming and shouting outside the door or window of a fellow's now father-in-law saying that, basically shouting a lot of racist epithets about how his daughter, his white daughter, has married a Black man. And she's done so without her father's consent. So it starts with this idea of there's been some sort of violation.

A Black man has married a white woman, and this is a problem.

So it ends up at the court of the Duke who is dealing with other issues because the Turks are now circling around their outpost in Cyprus, and they need Othello to do some work for them and to fight off the Turks. So the Duke says, oh, look, it's okay. It's fine. You know, Othello is a great guy. We've all worked with him. We know him really well.

And that's when the line comes out: He is far more fair than Black.

And what he's saying there is that essentially, look, he doesn't act Black. He acts white. He acts like us. So let's just be okay with this.

And so what you have there is a situation in which somebody who has kind of violated a kind of racial code in Venetian society is given a pass because he's very useful to that society. What happens in the rest of the play is that lago works on him and tries to convince him that his wife is having an affair with his lieutenant.

And unfortunately, Othello believes him, and they plot to murder Desdemona, and they do. He does. And it's a heartbreaking, heart-wrenching play.

And what's difficult about it is that it seems to fulfill stereotypes about Black men and Black masculinity. So it's always been a bit of a problem to stage. So yeah, it's a fantastic play, though.

It's a real sort of exploration of interracial relationships in a white-dominant society.

Yeah, I think it's harder in classrooms. And that's something that I actually been thinking about how to address a colleague of mine, and I've been discussing it. Because a lot of teachers, especially white teachers, aren't necessarily equipped to have a conversation about race that isn't going to make all the students in the room feel objectified or uncomfortable.

And so what I'm trying to, what I also get at the book is about discomfort, being able to lean into the discomfort of having conversations. And Shakespeare, for him, he was an advocate of discomfort. You were not comfortable when you went to see a Shakespearean tragedy.

He didn't want you to be.

And so we should try and be comfortable in the classroom. And there are productions who have tried very hard to lean into the racial tension and angst in the play.

But often it can be unsuccessful, particularly if it's a white director that sees too much optimism in the play. And says, oh, this play really, it's not about race. It's about redemption of characters who've been singled out for some reason.

I'm like, well, the reason is race.

My goal was always to show how it rears its head, even in the moments that are the most unexpected or that seems innocuous.

But what is interesting is that in a lot of his comedies, he's using anti-Black racism as a source of humor. And, you know, that would have made people laugh, some of the comments that you hear in some of his most delightful comedies. And because the racism isn't the undercurrent of the play, that it's easy to miss it.

So you'll just get all of a sudden a comment like Much Ado About Nothing, where the character Benedict is talking with his friend Claudio about a woman that Claudio has a crush on. And he says, oh, she's too brown for a fair praise. And that would have made people laugh.

What he's saying is that she's not attractive enough to praise her, and fair in that time was a very elite form of whiteness. It meant beautiful and virtuous and white with a luster or a shine, and that shine is the virtue of a woman. And no woman of color could ever achieve that, because she's not white enough.

So he's saying that this woman is too brown, even if she's not brown, but he's using brown as a way of denigrating people of color.

But I think Shakespeare is still valuable for us because of the contemporary nature of some of the issues that he raises in his plays.

I mean, there's a great speech in Midsummer Night's Dream where he talks about the destruction of the planet because of the way people are behaving towards each other. And the powerful resonance of that today just is unmissable. So Shakespeare is able to articulate or help you to think about questions that are so urgent in your own moment.

I think other writers need to be brought into dialogue with Shakespeare. If you teach Othello, teach Toni Morrison's Desdemona, right?

It's incredibly lucrative intellectually and emotionally to keep Shakespeare in the curriculum.”

—Farah Karim Cooper: Director of Education at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, and author of The Great White Bard, How to Love Shakespeare While Talking About Race

#shakespeare #farah karim cooper #othello #racism #ingrained racism #casual racism #writing #much ado about nothing #colorism #the merchant of venice #anti blackness #desdemona #blacklivesmatter #theatre

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poorwritingandstalecoffee · 2 months

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in vita, in media morte sumus. Ch.1

WC: 2K

Note: New series popping out! I really have no idea the direction of this series or how many chapters will be included. Also, updates will likely be spread out since I am in the middle of the semester. Therefore, patience will be greatly appreciated with how quickly I can shell out chapters. Also, this is only the second extended work I've done, so once again, patience and kindness are very much appreciated.

Note: Also, Desdemona is 19-20 years old. The terms of her education at Nevermore will be explained in the upcoming chapters. HINT: Nevermore has blended into a high school/college atmosphere for Outcasts using alternating schedules.

BUZZZ!

*Rustling*

“I.D.? … Hmm, here for the Addams girl?”

“What gave it away? The black or the black?”

“Tish, play nice, my love.”

“Ohh, a playful little barb never hurt anybody, dear. Now, where is our little dagger, hmm?”

“Right this way,” the guard grumbled with his head down. He pulled the radio to his mouth. “Open cell block 394.”

BUZZ!

Their banter reached your ears before you reached the end of the hall. It made you want to claw your ears to bloody shreds and stuff them down the throat of the guard that would not stop picking at his fucking fingers—flicking dirt from underneath the dead nailbed with the toothpick. Swipe, dig, flick. Swipe, dig, flick! Nothing like family to incite you into a murder spree.

Morticia and Gomez turned a corner and met you at the halfway point between cell block 394 and cell block 394-C. “Aahh! Our little dagger! Look at you in your little red uniform,” said Gomez, clapping his hands as if to seal the finality of his joy.

Morticia smirked at you and murmured, “Only the best for an Adams.” She winked at you behind the bars separating the cell blocks, making your lip twitch.

Despite your distaste for her overtly sweet manner, you did appreciate her respect for your reputation that has awarded you such an unmatched level of security—a uniquely colored uniform and private cell block, in fact—and fear that wafted off those you passed, including the guard who has yet to remove his eyes from your form. You suppose rightly so since you did have the propensity to pounce on those inside the prison with teeth slashing into their pliable flesh, even if your hands were permanently locked into a steel cage.

You watched the guard pocket his dirty toothpick and slowly speak into his radio while eyes remained watchful of you, “Open the gate.”

The security light overhead flashed green while the gate buzzed open from a remote control center, and you stepped through the threshold. You sighed and walked up to your mother and father. “Hello, parents. Did you get bored of trying to act like you could still procreate and decide to pay your eldest a visit finally?”

“Desdemona!” Morticia shrieked.

Gomez chuckled and touched her back to quell her growing frustration. “Easy, Tish, she’s just warming up for the day. You didn’t mean it, did you, my little hellion?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How serious are you about breaking me out of here?” You narrowed your eyes at him while all four of you, including the guard, walked back to the entrance. As the four of you stepped outside the prisoner living quarters, Gomez turned and gestured toward the guard, who was hesitantly moving toward you with a set of keys jingling in his unsteady hands. You watched him fit the correct key into the lock of the steel cage and turn the little knobs inside, releasing the pressure from the cuffs and letting them bounce apart from your wrists before the box snapped open and thudded to the ground. Your brow raised while you rubbed at your sore wrists. Giving a cursory glance at the guard, you thought, ehh, there’s better prey than you, little piggy.

You turned toward your father and mother as they said, “Dead serious, darling.” You smirked and followed them to the car. Lurch let you all in, moved into the driver's seat, and put the pedal on the floor, leaving dust and gravel flying in your wake with the prison and the shaking guard fading into little dark spots.

Turning back to your parents, you said, “So, who did you kill, poison, or bribe to get my indefinite sentence halted?”

Morticia and Gomez stopped fawning over each other and whispering like teenagers about their little escapades in their youth that were similar to this one. They turned to you, and Morticia said with a familiar smirk, “A certain judge might have suddenly come to the belief that were you not immediately released, his bowels might begin imploding on him, causing massive internal bleeding that would quickly escalate to extreme bloodloss and sudden death.”

You raised your brow, thinking, gross, definitely not your style. Then again, yours and your parents’ signatures have never quite aligned. Have they? “And he agreed to that?”

“Well…a little give was admittedly needed on our part, little dagger. No justice system would simply allow a famed serial murderer to walk without some sort of agreed-upon rehabilitation plan. That is what our little friend informed us." Gomez said this with palms up and a placating smile, knowing you would add in that you could have done it without having to bend your will, albeit coming away with messier hands and the smell of blood on you.

Scoffing, you looked out the window, knowing whatever they agreed to put you through would not be to your liking, which would most certainly make your parents smirk with satisfaction—Morticia, anyway. Your relationship with your parents has always been a complicated one. “So, what will this forced rehabilitation plan look like, hmm?”

You could practically feel Morticia buzzing with selfish glee as she slowly said it, letting her lips form each word wholly before dropping them before you to splatter into the carpeted floorboard under your feet. “You're going to attend school with your younger sister, Dezzy. Our old alma mater, Nevermore Academy.”

“WHAT?” You barely registered that she used that stupid, loathsome nickname because all you could hear was your blood ringing through your ears. Your heartbeat sped up, imagining you mingling with petty little tweens and other teenagers as they giggled, cursed, sweated, cried, and chatted with one another. Their germs and fluids mixing as bodies inevitably tangled, writhed, and pulled at one another while they threw away all of their intellectual capacities for brief moments of desire and ecstasy. You don’t know how Wednesday does it every day. God, I hope that place hasn’t changed her, you thought.

“Oh, come now, Dezzy–

“I told you never to call me that! You know how I feel about that fucking nickname!” You screamed, images of you trapped and bashing your fists against the underside of the musty floorboards while tears streamed down your cheeks, listening to the girls chanting Dezzy! Dezzy! The scared little baby! above you flashed in your eyes. You blinked the memories away and looked at Morticia out of the corner of your eyes with betrayal and disappointment. She never fucking learns, you thought.

Morticia was always startled at your outbursts, the level of fury you could hurl at her in a second. Like the flip of a match, you exploded on her, which never fails to leave her speechless and hurt. She looked to Gomez for support but found him nudging his head towards you as a signal to apologize; Morticia, come on. She looked at you as you stared out the window, watching the foliage blur into greens and browns. Sighing, she thought, fucking stupid, you remember why she hates that name, hell you walked in on them doing it, Morticia! Leaning her head towards you, she tries to get your attention again and slowly says, “I’m sorry darling, I- I know, I shouldn’t have said that. It slipped out before I knew what I was saying, little dagger. Desdemona darling…” she waited for you to look at her, “forgive me?”

You studied her expression, saw the plea in her eyes, and remembered how she ripped out the floorboards, picked you up from that dark, spider-infested place, and held you in her arms. While you cried and clung to her, she held you and screamed how could you? What is wrong with you? You’re fucking monsters! to the group of blushing girls caught red-handed. You remember how she stormed into the headmaster’s office, demanding an explanation for why he didn’t protect you, why those girls were left unsupervised, why he let you go so long without a single friendship made at that damned school? Above all, you remember her vowing never to bring her daughter back to that hellhole and that he could say goodbye to his reputation and credentials as an educator. You recall as she carried you out of there, hearing her swearing on her mother’s grave that he and those girls would pay severely for making her baby scream and cry out in fear. Ohh, how you could hear her chanting something deadly in her spell room while Gomez talked with strange men about visiting the families of those unfortunate, monstrous people, and finally, you remember seeing four little dolls that looked so like the condemned from that school wind up on your mother’s desk in gruesome conditions with pins and burned bodies.

“Okay, fine, I forgive you—but only for the nickname, not for this nightmare you are about to put me through,” you grumbled and leaned your head on the back of the seat.

Morticia smiled and forced herself not to reach out and clasp your hands because she knew how alike her daughters could be. Instead, she grasped Gomez’s arm and said, “Nevermore is a charming little gothic wonderland! We swear it is not like other schools; Nevermore is a place for freaks, ghouls, werewolves, vampires, and gothics alike. Tell her, Gomez.”

“Tish is right, my little dagger. Nevermore is unlike any school; it was founded by Poe himself, after all. The principal there is devoted to ensuring every student feels welcome…especially after what happened last year, the school has become more like a family of goths and freaks that protects its own.”

“How touching,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm in response to their sickly sweet praises of the school. You looked out the window and saw the beginnings of a massive castle-like structure forming in the distance. Turning to your parents, you sighed, “Well, if I am to spend the rest of my sentence here, at least tell me more of this famous school and its esteemed principal that you’re so giddy to bore me over—quickly though, otherwise my ears might burst with anymore prolonged exposure to your insane joy.”

Morticia frowned at the word sentence and watched you smirk at her facial expression. Sighing, she thought, sometimes you and Wednesday are too alike before going into detail with Gomez about the academy’s history and the unfortunate events of last year. The tales of the raving monster they called the Hyde and its evil commander, how they ravaged the town, the school, and everyone that came unsuspectingly into their path—they were gruesome. Morticia and Gomez smirked at the unmistakable growing spark of curiosity and thrill in your eyes. An Adams through and through. They told you how Wednesday and her band of misfits were crucial to stopping the Hyde and its evil commander, Mrs. Thornhill, and how Wednesday’s known skill for potionmaking ended up saving the principal with one of her concocted antidotes. Indeed, what a tale of misery, murder, and mystery it was. Agatha Christie would be pleased, you thought.

…

Staring up at the gothic architecture, in all its dark, sullen glory, you thought it impressive. At least your parents were not wrong about the appearance and atmosphere of the place. Nevermore is most certainly a school reserved for only the best of freaks and goths; you could see students roaming about under the gables, curved archways, gargoyles, and on the marbled and grassy surfaces of the quad and the lawn surrounding the gothic concrete creature. It looked more like an overdone mansion than a school. Students dressed in matching dark purple and blue uniforms, some with black glasses, others with mixed expressions of glee, curiosity, suspicion, or dread, and carrying books, backpacks, trinkets, or all three; it made them look like little characters from a story that were hiding powers and ambiguous morality.

Making your way through the school entrance with your parents on your heels and gossiping about the glorious days of their youth—yuck!—you came face to face with the gold plaque of Principal Weems. You could hear her typing away on her laptop and talking on the phone about a banquet, or was it a dance? Her voice was distinctly sweet yet deep—how dark could it go?—and smoothly rich, the voice of someone who was not afraid to demand respect and authority she likely felt she was rightly due…and of someone who was used to receiving it promptly, with haste…someone who rarely found herself matched and challenged. Hmm, you might actually have some fun here, Des. With that thought, you knocked sharply on her door, hearing her voice come to a halt before she murmured a short apology and goodbye, followed by a short silence and then the rhythmic, steady click of her heels as she approached the other side of the wooden barrier.

#michelle's works #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #principal larissa weems #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa weems

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avelera · 6 months

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The Three Act Structure as Foreshadowing in Across the Spiderverse

I re-watched Across the Spiderverse yesterday, as its a perennial favorite in our household, and once again found the crafting of the story so rich that there's always something new to discover. In this case, whether or not we've left Miles in a good place or a bad place at the end of the film is left ambiguous, and this ambiguity is built into the very structure of the film.

In a Shakespearean comedy or tragedy, one easy way to chart which one the story takes place in is whether it begins in a good place or a bad place. If the story opens with happiness and triumph, bad news, you're in a tragedy. And vice versa, if something bad happens at the beginning, good news, you're in a comedy.

For example, Othello begins with Othello's triumphant return to the city after a successful military campaign, honored and adored by the city, and ends in the destruction of everything and everyone he loves. Whereas in Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice's best friend Hero is falsely accused of infidelity, creating the dramatic action of the story (gross simplification) and unlike poor Desdemona in Othello, by the end her name is cleared and all the happy couples can get married.

Right, so back to Across the Spiderverse, Act 1 opens with Gwen and Miles, our co-protagonists, in a bad place. Their secrecy around their Spider-Person identities are leaving their family lives in shambles, with Gwen estranged from her father and Miles feeling alienated from his parents. However, Act 1 ends on a happy, hopeful note in the form of the Spiderverse HQ. Miles finally got his wish to reunite with his Spider-family, and the future (literally, 2099) seems bright.

But watch out. Because Spider-verse brilliantly uses story hooks to pull you from one Act to the next. Act 1 really follows its own plot structure, with The Spot as action, A-plot villain being battled throughout. The emotional, B-plot story is around family trust and loneliness. By the end, Mumbhattan is saved, though the Spot got away, tugging us along through the story, and Miles and Gwen's loneliness is at least temporarily solved with all the new and old Spider-friends they meet.

However, this means we go into Act 2 in triumph. Which means we've got tragedy on the horizon. Act 2 has Miguel as our villain, they don't make much secret of it, and the encounter with him as Miles eventually flees the Spiderverse HQ is the action climax of Act 2. Our themes of belonging reemerge and echo Into the Spiderverse, (sometimes with direct visual call-backs, flashes of the younger Miles while he flickers between universes, as well as with the return of Peter B.).

Now, this is where the structure gets interesting. Because I argue that Act 2 ends with Miles escaping Spiderverse HQ and Gwen being forcibly kicked out. Act 3 is a shorter Act, but not as short as it seems, from when Miles ends up in Universe 42 to the end credits is actually a pretty long sequence. In that sequence, we close out other important beats in the story, like the dangling thread of Gwen and her father's estrangement.

So, Gwen's story in Act 3 begins with a tragedy: she's been kicked out of Spiderverse HQ against her will. This consequence she's feared since the beginning, that she'll be forced to return to her home universe, is finally realized. However, note that structure again, because she starts in a bad place, we can fully expect her to end in a good place. And she does! She reconciles with her father, defeats the bad guys like 90's Spider-Man (Ben Reilly) and gets the band back together. She has finally resolved her emotional story, which began in tragedy and thus moved towards comedy/happiness. She is full-actualized with her allies by her side and her father back in her corner.

Miles though? Miles story gets really interesting in Act 3.

Because at first glance, his story would be the opposite of Gwen's. She was kicked out of HQ, but Miles fled which means his arrival should be a triumph. That would mean he's set up for tragedy, and that is what it appears to be at first. He ends up imprisoned by the Universe 42 Miles Morales and Uncle Aaron, apparently getting ready for a fight for his life and for the life of his father.

However, it's actually a bit ambiguous if he opens tragically or comedically. Because Miles doesn't know where he is. So arguably, you could flip the truth of the opening of Act 3 - Miles begins tragically, because he tried to go home but he's actually far from it, in another universe.

But here the flipping gets even more interesting and complex, because I'm not convinced Miles is the good guy in Universe 42. His speech to Universe 42 Rio about how he "beat them all" in terms of his former Spider-friends sure sounds a lot like a villain speech. Miles also dives in by making a lot of assumptions when he arrives there, like that Uncle Aaron is a bad guy here too, that he's the Prowler, and that this means he's a supervillain. When he learns that Universe 42 Miles has assumed the mantle of the Prowler, he continues to try to talk them into joining, "the good side" all based on almost zero information. They laugh at him. But why are they laughing?

All we know about Universe 42 is that they never had a Spider-man. That Miles was supposed to be the Spider-man of this universe, but the collider transported the radioactive spider so it bit our Miles instead. Miles knows nothing about what this unprotected universe suffered as a result but at first glance, it's clearly bad. Indeed, on that point alone as Miguel pointed out, our Miles is a villain in this universe because his becoming Spider-man robbed them of their Miles Spider-man.

And actually, knowing that Miles is Miles, that he's a good kid at heart, there's just as much evidence that in this universe, Miles is already a good guy, that Uncle Aaron is his mentor (after all Uncle Aaron was always a bit on the fence about evil and in a world that's gone to evil, it's easy to imagine that he leans good). Thus, 42-Miles and 42-Aaron's anger and dark amusement at Original Miles speech about good vs. evil could be because they're offended to be labeled as villains by this privileged kid who never lost anything, who indeed comes from a privileged universe where his father never died.

So going back to the Act 3 structure, from the Miles perspective, which is subjective and not objective, the Act begins with a triumphant escape, and therefore must be headed towards a tragic defeat - capture by his evil alternate universe self. But Miles didn't know at first that he was tragically in the wrong universe. Which means that he could actually be in a structural comedy: beginning the Act with something bad happening, a transport accident gone wrong, and ending it exactly where he needs to be: surrounded by heroes who can help him, his own alternate universe self who is a good guy in this universe, along with Uncle Aaron. All of the darkness is in Miles's head, because he just came from a place where he was betrayed by supposed allies, but actually it's much more complicated than that, ending in ambiguity.

#writing #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spider-man #miles morales #maggie rambles #writing structure

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foxes-that-run · 7 months

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Sweet Creature

Harry said that Sweet Creature is about one person, and that he will never say who, adding if he would never tell them it wasn't about them. I think the protagonist has changed since it was written. It was a closer in the Live on tour set, and often emotional like this time in New York.

It was played once on HSLoveOT at Wembley. Harry talked about Gemma first bringing him to London for xfactor and he’d “like to play a song for her tonight”. He thanked London. So its matured in meaning and he sung it to Gemma, who had a baby 8 months later:

youtube

19 February 2016

At the Troubadour (at 21:40) on it's launch 19 May 2017, Harry said Sweet Creature was written a few weeks after his birthday 1 February 2016. It was written at the Village in Los Angeles. There is a photo of him at the studio on the 19th February. He also said it was the first song he wrote “for” the album (1:22). Harry said that one song (two ghosts) was written before leaving the band but everything on debut except 3 songs were written between July and December 2016.

Sweet creatures opening melody is similar to Blackbird by the Beatles. Blackbird is a McCartney song, interestingly, Harry was photographed with Ringo at the Clive Davis Grammy party. From I'm Not Happy (possibly the same night) and Pop Tart it might have been the first time they saw each other after the 2015 BBMAs 8 months earlier, 1D had been touring for most of that.

Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard

‘Sweet Creature’ appears in Shakespeare’s Othello. A tragedy, Othello is newly married to the beautiful (and faithful) Desdemona. The villain, Lago resents Othello and drives him mad by insinuating that the handsome and charismatic Cassio had an affair with Desdemona. Lago tells Othello that he heard Cassio talk in his sleep:

In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.” And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard…”

It’s a really interesting reference. On one hand, Harry is singing with genuine affection and fits the imagined role of Cassio. However, as described in Woman Harry was jealous and he’s also the villain, messing with CH, in a laughably effective way.

If the Othello reference holds, Desdemona had also not cheated on Othello. But by 28 February Harry tweeted 'You can shake an apple off an apple tree.' And by April 29 that may have changed (Illicit Affairs / I did something bad).

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Sweet creature Had another talk about where it's going wrong But we're still young We don't know where we're going But we know where we belong

In out of the Woods and interviews about it Taylor talked about the relationship being tentative and plagued by challenges and poor communication.

Harry did not know where he was going, One Direction was broken up and although he started recording he had not signed a solo record deal.

TS and HS were unable to let each other go for years, often singing about belonging, or eventually being together. Particularly Someday, Satellite, As it Was, The 1 and End Game.

[Pre-Chorus] And, oh, we started Two hearts in one home It's hard when we argue We're both stubborn, I know But oh

'Two hearts one home' references Hopelessly by Crosby, Stills and Nash hoping on Harry’s Another Man Mix Tape. “They are One Person / They are Two Alone”, Nash was longing for Joni Mitchell, an idol of Taylor’s. This line is often read as referring to Gemma and when played it again in 2023 Harry agreed. However I think it wouldn’t have been dropped from the set if it was about Gemma.

In 2016 though, his 'home' was not a building. In the first 2 minutes of the Fine Line interview with Zane Lowe Harry talks about not feeling at home and feeling lost in his house in London on a 5 day 1D break, and glad when it ended. Taylor was a home of the heart, a part of his world and separate to the band. Woman Exile has more on ‘home’.

The idea of one’s sweetheart being home is in the Notebook, Harry’s favourite movie. Old Noah says it to his kids when they ask him to come home with him, his wife is his home.

[Chorus] Sweet creature, sweet creature Wherever I go, you bring me home Sweet creature, sweet creature When I run out of road, you bring me home

‘When I run out of road’ reminds us of the amount of Driving in Haylor songs. But this is referring specifically to Harry’s anxiety going solo and trust/hope that Taylor would be there for him. 7 months later in New Years Day she agreed: “I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, Or if you strike out and you're crawling home”

[Verse 2] Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

I think here though the Garden is the beach at Taylors Rhode Island home, (bought when they first dated) where the 1989 and 1989 TV covers and rolling stone beach shoot was. This shoot is referenced in the videos for Style and End Game.

Similar lyrical references are in Cruel Summer (snuck in through the garden gate to seal our fate), Blank Space (Rose Garden filled with thorns) and Betty (In the Garden would you trust me).

Not speaking is also a common theme, best put in Fine Line: "Spreading you open Is the only way of knowing you", and The 1: "And if you wanted me, you really should've showed."

And he posted this when it was released

#haylor #sweet creature #harry styles #Youtube #harry styles debut #hs1

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ask-redwoods · 9 months

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Hello hello! So I often put up ask boxes on various social media regarding my ocs and sometimes I will doodle responses. However they only last for a day and I'd like to always have some sort of box open! Hence this account. Here's a visual guide to my main Ocs;

And then here's some quick introductions with basic details about each of them;

Ichabod: Moth hybrid who spends most of his time partying and getting his version of intoxicated. He's a little awkward socially, goofy, and tends to not bring up his past. He's close friends with Ura.

Ura: a fish-based siren, she doesn't take anything seriously and is considered rude or mean-spirited by most. Honestly I would describe her as a malicious bimbo. She's friends with Ichabod.

Salardi: Another goofy guy, however he can be a little air-headed at times and forgets important things they have to do, or even sometimes the fact that his gel-like exterior has a potent poison able to paralyze a fully grown moose for a few hours. Unlikely friends with Elgaria.

Elgaria: A researcher/scientist interested in bringing immortality to those who are mortal. Highly intelligent and curious about almost everything, with a soft spot for humans. Frequently conducts experiments on living and non-living things, but makes a point to ask for consent nowadays.

Valentine: They are a friendly, chill bird hybrid who loves to cloud watch and stargaze. Can "predict the future" for you if you let him, he's right 100% of the time with 30% of his predictions.

The Traveler: A re(tired) angel who is known as the guide for the forest, generally very neutral in opinion but seems to care for those they encounter. Sometimes tough to find.

Desdemona: Standoffish exterior with an incredibly caring interior. She loves cats and gardening, and holds a grudge against Ichabod and Ura. Always seems to have her guard up for some reason.

The Reaper: A mysterious figure in the forest, symbolizes death and is said to only be noticeable by the poppy petals that follow them, however it is likely too late if you see them.

Spider Queen: A troubled creature with a heavy hatred of everything around her, especially spiders of any kind. Bringing up Elgaria will send her into a frenzy where she can rant for hours.

Nymphaea: Highly respected and immortal being who offers comfort to those who seek it. Soft-spoken and motherly.

Thank you for reading! I will draw as many responses as I can, I really enjoy talking about my critters!

#art #my ocs #original character #ask my characters #ask my ocs #creature design #character design #character development

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zirawrites · 1 year

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I liked your romanced companions reacting to sole cheating. How would they react to being cheated on with one another? Like sole is cheating on x with y, it would be a little extreme to get with all companions at once.

Here is the reaction that inspired this post in case anyone wants to read it :)

I chose which companion Sole had an affair with at random, hope this was what you were looking for! I agree that their canon harem always rubbed me the wrong way lol

Cait: Cait’s cheeks flushed as red as her hair. She had Sole cornered in the Third Rail, Magnolia’s jazz sounding more like grating white noise than a melodic song. “Ya cheated on me with MacCready? That grubby, shit-for-brains, no-good cave-dwelling merc?” Cait nearly punched herself in the face wiping away a fallen tear. “I always thought he was sweet on me, but it was just to keep me from thinkin you two were sleeping together. Get out of my damn life, Sole. I didn’t deserve that.”

Curie: Curie could have stomached Sole’s infidelity if it was an anonymous drifter. Some wastelander who they’d met at a bar or during a supply run. But Piper? She was Curie’s friend, too. How could she be so naive? “I suppose I have more to learn about humans than I thought before.” Curie shoved her things in a scavenged duffle bag, her back turned away from Sole. “Do not try to find me. Either of you. I already feel foolish enough.”

Danse: Danse had always feared he wouldn’t be enough for Sole. He had never dated before. Never been in love. Was never sure if he held Sole too tightly, or at an arm’s length. But when Sole admitted they had been sleeping with Preston, he wondered if he ever held their attention at all. “I didn’t take Preston as an adulterer,” Danse admitted, his teeth grit together. “Ironic how you two could do so good for the Commonwealth, yet betray your inner circle so harshly.”

Deacon: Deacon rarely missed details. He knew whenever a Railroad agent cut their hair two inches, or when Carrington changed the brand of antiseptics he used to clean medical supplies, or whether Desdemona was in a mood just judging by her posture. That was why he was so shocked he never picked up that Sole was cheating on him with Curie. “She’s a good gal,” Deacon said flatly, his shades pushed up to the skin between his eyes. “Shame she doesn’t know what a bastard you are.”

Hancock: The mayor was all about having a good time, but only when both parties consented. He had never given Sole permission to stray from their monogamous relationship, let alone with Cait. “So you two were fine huffing my chems and drinking my wine all while fucking under my roof?” He dismissed Sole with a curt wave of his ghoulified hand. “Get out of Goodneighbor, Sunshine. And don’t come back.”

MacCready: MacCready had told Sole he’d follow her until the day he died. They had swapped stories of their deceased spouses. Cleaned each other’s wounds. Shared a bed. But nothing hurt more than knowing Sole had cheated on him with Danse; someone he didn’t like, but still a man who was in their inner circle. “Don’t touch me!” MacCready slapped Sole’s hand from his arm, eyes brimming with hot tears. “Fuck off to the Prydwyn and go live your happily ever after.” He didn’t care about swearing. Duncan would understand.

Preston: The general could hardly look at Sole. He had trusted them with the Minutemen. Trusted them with his heart. And Sole had betrayed everything Preston felt secure within. “Hancock, really?” His voice warbled, on the verge of breaking. “Am I really so boring that you need your thrills with the Commonwealth’s craziest mayor?” He didn’t mean the insult. Hell, he had half a mind to apologize to Hancock later. But while Sole’s love brought out the best in him, their betrayal coaxed out his worst.

Piper: “Boy am I stupid.” Piper gave a clipped laugh that shook at the end. “All this time you’ve been helping me write about synths replacing humans, and you’ve been sleeping with one all along.” She was talking about X6-88; a damn courser for crying out loud. “Were you just waiting to swap me with some machine? Is X6 playing you, or are we both just playing ourselves?”

Nick: “I suppose only the Commonwealth’s greatest secret agent could pull one over on its greatest detective.” Nick’s voice was flat, his joke humorless. “I hope you and Deacon are very happy, Sole. Honestly. Just stay out of my way and we won’t have a problem.”

X6-88: X6 was more disgusted with Sole’s choice of lover than their actual affair. Nick Valentine was a Gen 2 synth. As a courser, X6 was superior to him in every way. “I suppose you have less taste than I thought.” He had nothing more to say. X6 was happy to go back to the Institute and ask Father for another courser to be reassigned as Sole’s bodyguard.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reaction #fallout 4 reactions #nick valentine #preston garvey #fallout 4 deacon #maccready #x6 88 #fallout 4 piper #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 cait #hancock #danse

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stygiusfic · 1 year

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styg’s story thoughts (I): character reactions

(This post is brought to you by my wonderful friends who asked about my thoughts on plotting!)

We tend to think of plotting as what happens next or what the characters do, ie. action. But stories are a cycle of action-reaction, and we don't always give the reaction part its full weight. Three-act structure has both action and reaction beats, yet the so-called "major" beats that manuals like Save the Cat recommend defining first are all action: Catalyst, Break into 2, Midpoint, All Is Lost, Break into 3...

Of course all of those have matching reaction beats, so reactions aren't being ignored by the 3-act model; it's just that the established process is to figure out reactions after you've got the action down. Chronologically, that makes sense. But I think that leads us to see reactions as the less important half, when in fact they are what breathes life into any story.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and it's helped me feel a lot more connected to whatever I'm writing, so I want to talk about it here.

Reactions shape a story to a degree that sets it apart from others with similar chains of events. Because anything could happen to anyone—but people rarely view or feel about everything the same exact way. The same events told from different perspectives can radically change what type of story it becomes!

Imagine this: if you're going somewhere with plenty of time to spare, and you miss the train you were planning to take, well, it's alright, you can wait for the next one, or maybe walk partway. But if you're running late, like I often am, and you miss the train, you're probably going to get really stressed out. And if you were going somewhere important to you, there will be an added layer of urgency and frustration when you miss the train, making that seem even more dire.

What I mean is: no event is intrinsically significant. The characters' reactions make it so.

Any event is important in the eyes of the story and the audience only to the degree that the characters assign importance to it. And this degree of importance also determines who the characters are, which in turn answers the question of what they do next.

Here's a classic example that blew my mind when I heard it phrased in these terms recently: Shakespeare's Othello.

The action that jumpstarts the tragic spiral—Iago planting Othello’s wife’s handkerchief in Cassio’s room—is in itself only significant because of Othello's reaction. If Othello had decided to not freak out and jump to conclusions when he discovered it—if, instead, he'd had a healthy conversation with his wife and cleared up Iago's deception—the story would have been very different! But Othello reacts with jealousy and mistrust of Desdemona (as Iago wanted him to). Those feelings fester, and move him to eventually kill her and, later, himself. That’s why the story becomes a tragedy—because Othello’s reactions leave no room for any other outcome.

And it starts with a stupid handkerchief! But the handkerchief is important to us because it's important to Othello.

This is why, when trying to come up with "big" moments for an outline, sometimes rather than starting with actions it's easier to think first: what kind of reaction am I looking to provoke at this stage? Am I looking for a turn for the better or a turn for the worse? And then second: what kind of action would trigger that reaction?

The ways in which characters care, or don't—and by extension the ways we as the audience care—make up a big part of the story and can define tone and genre as well.

Another example: imagine a character commits murder.

Murder is an act that we can all universally agree is big and bad and world-shaking. There are countless stories that center around a murder (or many) and how they shape the lives of the characters who suffered in the wake of that act, creating stories of revenge or disillusionment or justice.

In those stories, murder is Big. But then on the other end of the spectrum, we have Tarantino movies, where characters will shoot someone and not even look while they do it, and the story moves on unbothered. This lack of reaction is a kind of reaction too. It tells us: this is a story in which murder is small and easy and the deaths of random people are unimportant. We don't linger in the unimportant. Those murders carry no moral weight for the audience; we're likelier to feel amazement at the fake blood fountaining on-screen than mourn the loss of a life. But the story will linger in the deaths of characters who are significant, like Bill in Kill Bill. The time spent in his final monologue and the unpacking of motivations and consequences set him apart from the nameless dead and honor his importance to the story.

I believe this is, in part, what people are trying to communicate when they say "show, don't tell". (Which is flawed advice for prose, especially if taken to the extreme, because it was originally an adage for theater, but anyway.) What it means is, if you want the audience to perceive something as important, show the character reacting to it like it's important. Spend time and words in the moments that affect your characters. If you just "tell" the information and move right along, and we don't see any notable reaction, we can assume it's not important and we don't need to emotionally attach to it.

This is an oversimplification. Sometimes telling is preferable to showing, because showing takes more words and being straightforward has its own place. (And sometimes telling lets you set things up discreetly on the side so you can expand on them later, so you just make them seem unimportant until they're not. There are a million reasons to tell instead of show.)

But I really love that deciding how much time and space you spend on reactions shapes the action and pacing and feel of the story. Every genre you can think of that "feels" a particular way when done right feels that way because reactions are consistent with the inner logic of the genre. (Meeting a certain stranger a number of times in different places can be exciting in the set-up of a romance; but if it's a thriller, the character noticing the pattern may well be concerned instead.)

I've been trying more than ever to look for big reactions, and reverse-engineer the events that would prompt them by getting at the heart of the character, because watching someone care too much is way more engaging than watching them care only a little.

#styg story thoughts #writing thoughts #this may become a series of posts who knows #the blanket disclaimer is all writing advice is flawed and deeply personal #and you should pick and choose what works or doesn't work for you

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notasapleasure · 1 year

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Othello, National Theatre (2013)

We're not here to talk about my state-instilled Pavlovian response (negative) to Shakespeare. We're here to talk about the one Valid Man in this play: Montano.

I don't need to walk it through, you all know the plot, don't you?

Don't you?

Go check it, I'll wait.

This is a great production, with Adrian Lester (of Hustle swag) as Othello, Rory Kinnear as Iago (yes, he of the Badmingtons from OFMD, playing bad guy bingo) and my BELOVED Lady Sarah from Garrow's Law (forever faves), Lyndsey Marshal as Emilia. I say it's great, though it is a modern setting (military) and....really brought home to me how much I don't think this play adapts to a modern setting at all. Not so much for the racial tension, but for the balance of power between the genders. Anyway sorry yes, we're really not here to talk about that. And the modern setting does mean we are blessed with a slutty t-shirt I have no doubt you'll all adore.

Man of many hats!

Montano was commander of the Venetian army in Cyprus and they were having a Bad Old Time against the Ottomans (yeah, modern setting, I know, just...Shakespeare goggles or whatever). The Duke of Venice decided to relieve him and put Othello in charge instead - and Montano is happy for it! (cf. Iago's response to having his position 'usurped' when Cassio is promoted ahead of him)

I'm afraid the subs in that first image refer to Desdemona, Othello's wife, not Montano 😏

Anyhoo, Othello's arrival coincides with a storm that wrecks the Turkish fleet, and there is Much Celebration! Meanwhile, Iago has orchestrated a fight between Cassio and Rodriguo - knowing that if he can get Cassio drunk he won't be able to control his temper.

No one's going to out-do Montano in drinking Othello's health!

Yes, I made myself figure out an easy-ish way of giffing, finally. I'll take requests later if anyone has any for other scenes...

Montano (totally ignorant of Iago's plans) challenges Cassio to SHOTS SHOT SHOTS (per original script) to Othello's honour.

Best quality? Hims wiggles.

Cassio is getting uh. Angry. And goddy. He tries to get everyone to pray with him.

Iago has a brief chat alone with Montano to claim Cassio is like this all the time and make Montano worry that someone should warn Othello.

Iago's evidently angling for Montano to do so, but he doesn't really get the chance, as Rodriguo, having provoked Cassio as planned, comes running in pursued by Cassio and Montano tries to break it up.

Cassio...really is an angry drunk. Who doesn't like Montano pointing out that he is drunk. An alarm is raised, a brawl breaks out, but Cassio really uh. Has it in for the big guy.

(who hasn't dreamed of climbing him like you're a big cat trying to bring down some kind of glorious ancient megafauna with your teeeth?)

Poor Montano. Bleeding profusely and Othello suggests he started the fight!

Whump fans, I have so many more stills and a little video clip - it will all be available when I'm done watching through the list, which will be very soon now :')

He has to go away and recuperate for a long time (a LONG time, this play is three hours long, which is very long when you already know how it’s going to end and it’s all just yes ok we know it’s a tragedy ok but where’s the goddamn catharsis???), but pops up again with his head taped up at the end. Mainly to stand around looking miserable while the Tragic Ending plays out, but he remains a good man, and that’s rare in this play.

The precise moment he realises Desdemona isn’t just...having a nap while they all argue (???)

Making sure Othello doesn’t get away, but also ready to...run unarmed after Iago. He gives the gun to Desdemona’s uncle and dashes off.

Brings back Iago, then disarms Othello (again)!

Striking a pose

Curtain call!

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Rating

Dead? Nope! A talent in a tragedy!

Evil? Not at all! The closest character I think I’ve seen him play to Brasso? And even more of a talent to live and not be evil in a tragedy!

Affects the plot? Yes - and the drinking contest isn’t pre-meditated, nor is his good-natured intervention in Cassio’s fight.

I find this play very long. I love a bit of foreshadowing and fated tragedy, but ever since I had to study this in school I found the ending a let-down after such plainly presented and inevitable misery. Montano is only in a couple of scenes relatively early and a couple at the end. They may be good scenes, and I may be able to see much of merit in the rest of the play, but it is a slog. Look at these screenshots though and tell me 3.5/5 isn’t fair, with the t-shirt gaining that extra .5 all by itself.

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Bonus: some stills from the behind the scenes footage of choreography of the brawl. They’re a bit blurry and a lot are just.....his back. I apologise for nothing.

#adventures in joplin sibtain's imdb page #joplin sibtain #chook sibtain #othello #national theatre #ntathome #othello 2013

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disastergenius · 2 years

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Details from the Deaf West Spring Awakening pt1

Alright because apparently I’m falling back into my Deaf West Spring Awakening obsession again, here is my running list of favorite details that are in the most beautiful show I’ve ever seen. based on the Wallis version which is my favorite version i’ve seen (to be added to in future)

· Because ive only seen the bootleg, I hadn’t ever seen the dress/guitar pass at the beginning of the show until I watched rehearsal footage, but it’s so simple and good to establish the show.

· The enraptured way that all the cast signs/sings through Mama Who Bore Me with Wendla. Everyone else being allowed to move except for Moritz.

· While Wendla sings Mama Who Bore Me, her mother washes her hands and I don’t really know what this is meant to symbolize but it feels like it should have some deeper meaning about wanting to communicate and still being unable to

· The “her whole…heart” joke with Wendla’s mother beginning to sign ‘vagina’ and then moving it up to make ‘heart’

· I always forget Patrick Page is in this because he like, never talks about it and no one ever asks him about it when they go through past shows he’s been in. I guess he’s got a very long career with more iconic roles than Adult Men in DWSA but I’m sad he rarely gets to talk about it.

· This setting where the Voices are all relegated to sitting where you can barely see them is another very good establishing moment

· Melchior signing when the teacher isn’t looking so his deaf classmates can follow along in the conversation as well, even signing a bit behind his back

· What do you think they’re writing on the blackboards during All That’s Known?

· While Moritz and Melchior talk about his dreams, and they talk about their fellow classmates; Otto isn’t paying attention so he doesn’t notice, but Georg does and gives the best “wtf” face in the background

· The tapping the table for timing cues when Moritz starts Bitch of Living

· the JUMP off the desk! YES Alex Boniello!

· The lighting of this show is obviously extremely important in both a interpretive way to give meaning and as lighting cues for everyone to note, but I think Bitch of Living is where this becomes most apparent

· The minor inclusion of Sean being Bobby Mahler in his khakis

· Otto’s little roll under the table

· Ilse on the balcony during the start of My Junk is so sad. She can see them but can’t join them.

· Everything about the Desdemona scene is funnier, it’s so clever for them to literally give him a hand

· Otto and Ernst covering their eyes when Frau Grossenbussenhalster and Georg

· Ernst’s voice circling Hanschen on the bicycle despite him being surrounded by the girls previously, good foreshadowing

· Also the little spin he does with Ali Stroker is cool staging

· “It’s as if the whole world is obsessed with penis and vagina” what an ace mood (to be clear, Melchior is very much not ace but what a relatable sentiment)

· I loved listening to Alex and Daniel explain the way that jokes get lost in translation because of course they would, especially the timing, but it’s something that doesn’t really make sense until you see it and it’s very smart of them to figure out a way to make sure it plays every time they do it

· The cigarette pass between Moritz and his voice

· This isn’t technically show specific, but thankful for the Seth Meyers performance for being the closest thing we’re going to get to a proshot and they did it the correct way by not focusing on the singing actors but by focusing on the signing actors

· The circles being so personally drawn, then rubbed away in haste and embarrassment

· Oh the ship

· I really like that they put the 3 guitarists up on the overhead balcony for this part, you can’t see it really well but that’s a neat thing for staging

· Also cannot imagine having to carry the double bass around that stage all the time

· The pairs and symbolism has already been dissected but it’s beautiful every time

· Frankly one could write an essay on this musical and a whole separate one just on all that they put into Touch Me

· The tree is actually very cool to me in the way that it is constructed and the callback later in the graveyard where they are then individual trees, apart from each other

· the different places they put the sign for bruise on each other, such good symbolism

· Moritz not hugging Hanschen, good for him

· I love how they imply that one of the reasons Moritz is not passed even though they have the space is because of him being Deaf, especially with the Milan Conference decisions hanging over the school plotlines. They never have to say it and yet it is crystal clear just why the teachers don’t care

· The Dark I Know Well is another song you do a lot of analysis on. My personal interpretation has always been that the girls (+Ernst) are representing either experiences they have had or ones they are in danger of. Sort of in the way that 1/3 women experience sexual harassment/abuse, so literally everyone knows someone who has or has been a victim. The boys are both the perpetrators, reaching out and still appearing like a threat (circling the bed, grouped together with arms outstretched, not lovingly but grabbing). The adult man could be trying to stop them but he does the same movement, showing he is just as guilty (reminds me of the idea of, they know people who have done this but if they don’t speak out against them it doesn’t matter)

· The hand on the ankle is a signal for Marta to start her verse with Ilse but it ends up being slightly terrifying in this interpretation. Like she’s literally never free from this experience of someone touching her

· The beating scene is so weirdly fascinating in this version, I love the staging but it still plays weird to me

· The gun being the same gun moritz later uses is so so sad

· I love the decision to make Moritz’s father deaf as well because the communication theme ends up being about parents and children (the original). We don’t need Moritz’s father to be disappointed in him because he is deaf and failing, we already have that in the school. They have the same problems as everyone else in many ways

· Frau Gabor never once looks at Moritz during And Then There Were None. She looks towards him, she looks around him, she walks by him. She never looks at him. He is pleading with her, signing at her, begging her to notice him struggling

· Mirror Blue Night what a weird song: staging is gorgeous though, although I understand the confusion from a deaf audience who would have no idea what is happening, the good news is that the hearing audience also has no idea

· So very happy they didn’t go for the animal masks

· Oh the consent angle for this entire hayloft scene is so so interesting but I do not have the ability to discuss that without yelling

· The very obvious religious imagery they use with two of them dressed as alter boys swinging their lanterns is a good costuming choice

This got very long so part 2 incoming

#deaf west spring awakening #dwsa #spring awakening #deaf west #spring awakening revival

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kiasnocturnality · 2 years

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Hii hello! If i may ask, and apologies if you have answered this before, but what were your inspirations for making all your ocs? How did you go about creating them and having them be so unique? Do you have any advice?

Wishing you a wonderful day!

🫖🍵🍵

AHHHH!! I love questions like these lol, I always wanna talk about my OCs hehe

I've already made a few other posts about how I came up with their names and some fun facts about them/ their creation which can be found on my blog

In general my blog was inspired by darlingverse! I really love her blog and characters and I wanted to try it out for myself! I'd also been wanting to write for original characters for a while and wanted to do so on a separate blog bc I want my main blog to remain as reader-inserts and fanfics

Alois was originally inspired by Alucard from Castlevania! I wanted a character with a tragic background as opposed to a story that's currently going through tragedy and someone who's classy and sensitive. I like the idea of non-humans hiding amongst/ living alongside us so I made the whole backstory with his ancestor and the night court and his big family (ahem also if any of you ever want to ask his sibling something or make requests for them, I would love that). The albinism was originally just for character design but it soon became a defining factor of his family and status. The night court has been separate from the human world for a long time so I thought that they would have different means of measuring power in society such as the strength of their supernatural abilities as dictated by their heritage (made clear in the Leblanc family by their albinism).

Nasana was inspired by a drabble I wrote on anon on nagaparadise's blog! I love nagas a lot and want to make more content for them lol. A lot of Nasana's character is based on aesthetics and I wanted him to be quite solitary because who doesn't love a "I hate everyone but my s/o and Lixue" trope?

Takeshi was prompted by some of wyyvern's art and his character was heavily inspired by Tomoe from Kamisama Kiss! I wanted someone as mean as he was flirty and as caring as he was cold. He's old so I wanted to give his character a lot of development and yet not enough at the same time if that makes sense? Take has done some terrible things in the past and while he does not actively try to redeem himself or feel overly guilty, he is able to recognise that he was a victim of his abandonment and having no moral guide made him what he was - there was a brief period of time where he hated his nogitsune nature but he quickly recognised that while his circumstances had not been his fault, it was his responsibility to come to the realisation that he needed to change and then to make that change of his own will.

Desdemona was my little bisexual heart wanting to put some women on this blog AHAHA. She's very much a femme-fatale, she learned English through old films so she speaks with a transatlantic accent. I wanted a woman who was classy and gothic, much like Lady Dimitrescu. Also mommy issues go brrrrr

Aphaeleon was just from a want to make an angel OC! I really enjoyed learning about angelology and Enochian and I just love the idea of someone whose corruption has deluded him into viewing his own corruption as purity. I went to catholic schools when I was younger (I'm a Hellenist now though lol) but I still really like the catholic 'aesthetic' and I've also taken some inspiration from the band Ghost in terms of this character in a modern setting finding a way to charm people and gather his own following (though of course Aphae's is a bit more extreme than a metal band lol).

Va'ari and Taru were inspired by House of the Dragon and Fëanor and Fingolfin from the Silmarillion (originally they were going to be twins but I decided to make the succession crisis worse hehe). I wanted a setting where I would write court politics, fractured families and a succession crisis and also I thought that faeries would have some good potential for dark/yandere content hehe (Taruqu'inel being so desperate for love that he tricks you into giving you his name so you can't leave if he commands you to stay? HELLO?? Va'ariniel needing to secure everything she has so she can't lose it making her trick you into eating fae food so you can't return to your own world? I'll write it one day)

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deyondwashere · 1 year

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Let’s Talk Graves (Part 2/3)

(Purple text means it has the chance to be changed or deleted)

Role in story

Y'all ready for this? This could get real incoherent real fast because I'm just gonna babble.

Relationships

Within the Transformation, Graves mostly keeps to himself. Id say the people he is closest to is the Ophelia Family (Ace, Mona, Desdemona, and Cecilia). A quick refresher, the family is the top of the top, literally the most important people you could talk to within the organization. In his old concept (more on that later) he was somewhat of an uncle to Mona and Cecilia. He was a little younger then Ace and he had spent the majority of his life with him so he thought of him as a brother even though Ace is a "only child." Since then I have changed his concept though. Now instead of being in his Mid-30s he's about 17. I'm still trying to play with the idea that he still calls himself an uncle to them but I'm not sure if it's gonna stick.

Graves has a older sister that I imagine is about 25. Her name is Melody, that's her nickname atleast. She's called that because she can sing like, really well. No like, really really well. She has the ability to make the words she sing become reality. Of course there are limitations, one thing she can do however is heal dead bodies. She can't bring them back to life, but she can restore their corpse. She can't do it to someone who is overly decomposed though. Graves and her have a deal. If she helps him with dead bodies coming in, then he'll revive their brother. Who died of "natural causes" a few years back.

At his time in the lab, there was one subject that particularly interested him. James. A boy with the powers to make vines with poisonous thorns. Of course everyone had interesting powers but James interested him for a different reason. He wasn't in control of himself- a spirit was. The spirit that gave the vessels their powers are called guardians, and normally when this guardian tries to take control over the vessel without permission, it makes the vessel go feral. Attacking anything and everything like a rabid animal. A subject went feral a few years back and that's how the 4 of them got out of the lab. So either James allowed his guardian, Lucas, so take over, or he was on the verge of going feral at all times. Graves takes “special” interest in James during Crystals.

The Transformation

Graves decided to join the transformation sometime after his brother died, he was maybe about 9-12. He got word from someone that they were hosting an experiment. It had to do with creating some sort of "weapon" using biological beings. Combining souls to create them. Graves, being incredibly interested in death (even from a young age) was instantly hooked. He was able to get to the human world and instantly began rising through the ranks because of his high level of skill and his impressive hold on his powers at such a young age. By the time he was 15, he was already beginning to get eyed by the Ophelia Family themselves. Once his first expirment was closed due to a lack of subjects he began working for the transformation full time. After some time he was scouted out for another big experiment, for most this would seem absolutely impossible, or completely out of their range. However graves wasn't "most" people. He almost instantly took the job. What was it you ask? Nothing too important, just create immortality.

Graves decided to start at the bottom, with plants. Since he wasn't quite ready to take on live human souls, he decided that "live" would have to be his starting point. If you've ever been to Graves' house, then you would know that in his backyard he has a huge compost though because his garden is always dead or dying. That compost pile started from those plants that he killed at the beginning. Try after try and he couldn't get them to come back. He eventually got fed up and decided to move to wild mice or other rodents. That was the other ingredient in his compost pile. He found the work awfully boring, and a pain to clean up. So eventually he requested a human subject. His request was granted and from then on he very rarely got to test on traitors to the transformation or people who were dying. Is his times of need he would resort to picking the homeless off of the street. He was and still is a sick individual, perhaps some would blame it on his childhood.

Childhood

As stated before, Graves is from the Amilian world. He spent the first few years of his life there. I can probably do a world building post in the future but for now just know that The Amilian world functions as a monarchy with a clear divide between the poor and the rich. Within the poor, many of them are part of the transformation. It's like a virus, and that world is where it's rooted. They prey for the weak and vulnerable to build their cause. At this point, they've lost the reason of why they started it and now they're just in it for power. One has to wonder how it got this bad Graves' family was well off, held in high regards for their history of incredible powers. As you can tell, him and his sister were no exception to the pattern. If you've ever watched The Owl House, I imagine their house sort of worker like the Blight family, but with no hope of redemption. His father was working most of the time, maybe coming home once a month. His mother was around but something about her was always vacant and absent. Graves described his mothers eyes as "the same as roadkill, dull and empty." This left their 3 kids basically home alone. Melody was the oldest, Graves was the middle child, and Zm9yZ290dGVu was the youngest. Graves was quiet and never interacted with anyone, he was in his own world. Meanwhile, Melody and the youngest had a relationship that was... less then ideal. She believed that it was his fault that their life had gone to shit. She never let him leave her sight and even at some points getting quite physical with him. One day, out of the blue, the family came out with the news that he had died of "natural causes." Melody felt absolutely awful about it, now regretting her past choices. (Fun Fact! The inspiration for this story line was the song "You are a Useless Child" by Kikuo) She almost immediately turned to Graves to bring him back, he refused. He was fully capable of doing so, but he didn't want to. She begged him and said she'd do anything. And so that's how they struck up a deal, she helps with his expirmemts, and he will “eventually” bring him back. God knows if he will pull through with his promise.

Morals

Speaking of god…let’s talk his beliefs shall we?

Coming soon lmao

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juniperberries-canisroot · 1 year

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Alternative Starts

*Inspired by the mod of the same name

**I can't mod my console

I altered the canon quite a bit and made some of my characters have stories that started before the actual game does. However I wanted Helgen & Alduin's return to act as a starting point since that's what the game does. Also cause I mis-interpreted the beginning the very first time I played it years ago and didn't realize the big scary dragon at the start was Alduin who got thrown throu time.

Chantilly Leice had a Dark BrotherHood contract to kill some dude who lived in Helgen. She was sneaking around as the execution takes place. Due to Alduin attacking she never got to fulfill her contract. I mean, Sithis got his soul since almost everyone dies at Helgen.

Ginseng Thorn-Summons was part of the Imperial army and was there when it all went down. However she is called by her actual name, Ginseng Blom-Bjerke. She goes throu Helgen keep with the Imperial dude and escapes, similar to what we do. She goes to WhiteRun to tell the Jarl of the news.

Leif Hartvig-Brand's story is pretty similar to what we get in game, got caught in an ambush near DarkLight tower. However he wasn't tryin to cross the border as Ralof says. Leif went out one night hunting and when he came back, he found his village near DarkLight Tower, set in flames by the Thalmor. Someone in the village snitched and told the Thalmor they have Talos worshippers. Leif tried to save his fiancée and her kids but they couldn't be saved, it was already too late for them. He got caught in the Thalmor attack and tried to run off. After a brief fight with a Thalmor wizard he gets injured, knocked out and wakes up on the cart. He ends up seeing the same wizard in Helgen, who is very recognizable by his unique face scars, not given to him by Leif, the wizard already had them.

Braun was captured in an Imperial Legion led ambush after the IL found out about the illegal fighting ring. He and some other fighters were captured and sent to Helgen for execution.

Desdemona is a traveler and happened to be in Helgen at the time of the execution. She escaped throu her own means. She travels to WhiteRun since it's nearby and while talking to Farengar Secret-Fire she mentions she saw a dragon while at Helgen. This prompts him to tell her to go tell the Jarl, which she does.

Electra was doing a job for a client that involved gettin into Helgen. Since it was heavily guarded she took out a stray Thalmor that was wandering around the city wall, dragged them off and stole their clothes so she could enter. She's an Altmer so the other Thalmor didn't think twice. She was having a drink at the bar when the wagon of prisoners shows up and she went to go watch. Then everything happened, she escaped on her own and went to WhiteRun to tell the dude 'yeah sorry a dragon burned down the entire village I didn't get your stupid generic family heirloom that looks no different from an iron sword'.

I may change Vanta Iris' story cause I'm not really happy with it. But for now she was wrongly accused of selling skooma within a holds walls. It doesn't help that she's a Khajiit. She wasn't part of a caravan but that doesn't mean the people are any less racist. They thought she was part of a caravan and was doing their 'illegal business' inside city walls. She is an alchemist and she was just selling someone a medicine to help them. The worse part is, that person asked her to make the medicine and they never got it cause she was arrested as their meeting was going on. She was shuffled throu the prison systems, got falsely accused of more crimes since some people saw a Khajiit as an easy scape-goat for their own crimes, and that all built up to her being executed. She escapes Helgen on her own and does not go to WhiteRun afterwards. Not right after Helgen anyway.

Melka's story is completely different from all my other DragonBorns, in the sense that they're not a character I play as and they don't follow the story of the game. I plan on writing them out as a villain, sort of like Miraak who was a DragonBorn. Except Melka is very much alive and not stuck in a Daedric Princes' realm. I just included them cause they are a DragonBorn.

#Skyrim #Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls V #tes #tesv #Chantilly Leice #Leif Hartvig-Brand #Ginseng Thorn-Summons #Vanta Iris #Desdemona #Braun #Melka #Electra #DragonBorn #LDB

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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 13: “Apollo’s Lyre”

Image of the Apollo statue on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier from Wikimedia Commons

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The chapter “Apollo’s Lyre” constitutes the basis for the “rooftop scene” between Raoul and Christine in the ALW version, but in the book, it is really all about Erik. It’s quite possibly the most important chapter in the novel because we meet our title hero face-to-face for the first time, and because Erik overhearing Christine‘s plan to escape provides a turning-point for the plot.

The symbol of Apollo's Lyre is not only present in the Apollo statue on the highest point of the rooftop (that Erik is supposedly clinging to here), but also adorns the chandelier both in the Palais Garnier and in the original production of the musical.

At the end of the preceding chapter, Raoul had vowed to take Christine away, but she is still at war with herself about the idea. She wants to leave because she is afraid, but at the same time, warns Raoul that he will probably need to force her to leave since she isn’t emotionally ready to let go:

““But if I refuse to go with you when the time comes for you to take me away, you must make me go!” [...] she spoke these words with a forcefulness that seemed to be directed against herself.”

Every time Raoul offers to take her away right then and there, Christine refuses with an excuse of why it’s not possible to leave just now. Yet she is afraid that the next time she goes to Erik, she may never leave again. Erik seems to make her feel very deeply - but too much feeling can be very terrifying, especially if it’s a wild ride on that emotional rollercoaster of ecstasy, horror, pity, despair and passion that he sends her on. It’s no wonder she rationally wants to get out before it consumes her, and yet is afraid of losing it.

While she begins telling Raoul the whole story from her perspective, they repeatedly think they hear sighs, but still remain in the same place. This is a bit odd, considering how they kept running around before, but now, Christine insists that they stay, which is a bit curious. It is possible that she thought they were safe - but considering her general unwillingness to leave, I think it is even possible that she might be subconsciously sabotaging her own escape plan.

When Christine speaks about how she first met Erik, it becomes clear that masquerading as the Angel of Music was not initially Erik‘s idea. When Christine heard Erik in her dressing-room for the first time three months ago, he sang and spoke to her like a real man, except that he had this beautiful angelic voice and was hiding in the passage behind her room, so that he could not be seen. The first person to suggest that he might indeed be the Angel of Music is Mama Valerius, who prompts Christine to ask Erik if he is the Angel her father had sent for her. Erik jumps at the opportunity presented to him and confirms that her assumption is correct, and asks if she will let him teach her. She consents, and together they make amazing progress, developing both Christine’s technique and her inspiration to hitherto unknown heights.

One day, Christine sees Raoul at the Opera, and eagerly tells Erik about it. I bet he bitterly cursed himself then for passing himself off as an Angel, leaving enough space in Christine’s heart for a real man. But his threats to leave cause her to despair and to try to ignore Raoul - also because a marriage to him would be out of her reach anyway. Now it’s Erik’s turn to whine and accuse Christine of being in love with Raoul in the same way we’ve seen Raoul do before. But just like with Raoul, she won’t have that and even challenges Erik that she will ask Raoul to accompany her to Perros. According to her, Erik’s jealous reaction made her realize that she loved Raoul. I wonder if madly jealous Raoul also made her realize that she might possibly be just a little bit in love with two very different men?

Subconsciously, she seems to kind of know already that Erik is not really an angel, because when the chandelier falls, she is half-mad with panic and terribly afraid that it may have killed “the Voice” (and it would be a bit difficult to kill a heavenly being even if you dropped a chandelier on it). She also admits that then, Raoul and Erik were both “the equal halves of her heart” (and I think they still are, beneath all the complications that have arisen in the meantime). She runs to her dressing-room because that is where she is most likely to find “the Voice”, and when she hears the sounds of Erik singing and playing the “Resurrection of Lazarus” on his violin, she follows his voice through the mirror without being able to say how exactly she disappeared through it. She suddenly finds herself being gripped by a man in a black cloak and a full-face mask and tries to fight back, but then faints. When she wakes, she is resting on the ground near a fountain, and Erik is gently tending to her, but doesn’t reply to her questions so as not to give himself away as “the Voice”. Christine recognizes César the horse, and realizes that even though she never believed in the ghost, she had heard the rumours about him stealing the horse.

Erik takes Christine to the house by the lake, first on César’s back (that’s what he needed the horse for, after all) and then in the famous boat (which is rowed in the novel). She is no longer terrified, but feels strangely peaceful - an effect which she attributes to the possibility of having been drugged, even though she admits that at the same time, she was still in full possession of her senses.

“Lake Averne”, the name of the lake under the Opera House, is a play on words as well as meaning. First, “lac averne” is almost the same as “la caverne”, which means “the cavern”. There is also a real lake named “Lago d’Averno” in Italy, and in Roman mythology, that lake is one of the entrances to the Underworld. This fits with the fact that Erik also bears characteristics of Charon, the ferryman to the Underworld, whose name can be literally translated as “with glowing eyes”. The iconic boat ride certainly resembles the passage into the Hades, which is even alluded to in the novel.

The water tank below the Palais Garnier. Image from atlasobscura.com

Let’s stay in the Underworld for a moment. “The Phantom of the Opera” can also be seen as a variation on the story of Hades and Persephone (Christine’s ship in “Love Never Dies” is not called “Persephone” for nothing). Hades, the god of the Underworld, fell in love with the young and beautiful Persephone and wanted to marry her, but as the goddess of spring, she wasn’t willing to abandon the world above and go to live in the Underworld. Therefore Hades abducted her, she finally consented to marry him and became queen of the Underworld. Due to the intervention of her infuriated mother Demeter, it was finally decided that she would divide her time between living on earth for some months every year and living in the Underworld for the rest of the time.

When they arrive, Erik sets a confused Christine down in his brightly lit drawing-room, which has been decorated with an enormous amount of golden baskets full of flowers. It is not quite clear where all the flowers come from, so I guess he bought them all for her. With a salary of 20,000 francs, he could probably afford the luxury of spending so much on flower decorations… He tells her that she is in no danger, as long as she doesn’t touch his mask. When Christine realizes that the Voice is not an angel, she starts crying. Erik then kneels down in front of her and proceeds to tell her without further ado who he is, begs her to forgive him, and lays his heart at her feet. He confesses how much he loves her, and how wrong his actions were, but that he did everything out of love for her. It seems that Erik was rather anxious to reveal the truth that he is not really the Angel of Music and end his deception, but at the same time, was waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to explain everything without the risk of her running away from him forever. Keep in mind that he took on the role of the Angel of Music for just a couple of months, not years as it is commonly assumed.

Christine then stands up to demand her freedom, and is taken aback when he actually concedes it to her, telling her that she is free to leave. But after all, she does not leave because he starts to play the harp and sing for her. The piece he is singing here is the “Canzone del Salice” from Rossini’s “Otello”, in which Desdemona laments the cruelty of love. It is often assumed that the „Otello“ Leroux is referencing here is the more famous “Otello” by Verdi, but that one didn’t premiere until 1887, while the story is definitely set before 1886. Furthermore, Rossini’s version of the “willow song” is the only one that starts with a harp solo. The song is included in the playlist, listen to it here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/25ILZhCIWIRjJVK8SqDWzn?si=U5EPiO_ySBOlIy5XvI1BGw&dl_branch=1

The next morning, Christine awakes on the couch in „her“ bedroom (aka the “Louis-Philippe room”) where Erik must have carried her after she had fallen asleep. When she can‘t get out, she suffers a fit of hysterics, although it seems that she has simply been unable to locate the door set within the wall. Erik has been out shopping for her, which is a rather cute scene when he comes back with all the boxes for her while she yells at him. He calmly tells her to get ready for lunch, and she slams the door in his face so she can take a bath in peace. She places a pair of scissors within reach so that she could kill herself if Erik “stopped behaving like an honourable man”. Her concern is understandable, being alone with the man who is madly in love with her, however it is important to note that Erik never physically forces himself on her throughout the story.

Remarkably, Erik’s house had both hot and cold running water, something that was still very rare then, which suggests that he actually lived in better hygienic conditions than most people at that time, and that he was a skilled engineer.

When she finally joins him, he tells her that she does not need to be afraid, and that all he asks for is that she will spend 5 days with him. After that, he hopes that she will come back to see “poor Erik” from time to time, shedding a few tears beneath his black mask as he speaks. He serves Christine lunch in the drawing-room, consisting of crayfish, chicken wings and Tokay wine, but he himself does again not eat or drink. From their conversation, we learn that Erik has taken on his name “by chance”, whatever that means. The meaning of the name is “sole ruler” which is quite fitting for him.

When Christine has finished eating, Erik invites her to see his room, and she doesn’t hesitate as she instinctively trusts him. Apparently Erik has a very gothic taste as far as room decorating goes, and all this also plays heavily into the death symbolism of his character. Erik sleeping in a coffin is reminiscent of vampire stories, especially because it seems to be a choice and not a necessity. There is also an organ with the score of “Don Juan Triumphant” on it, written in Erik’s customary red ink(?). Erik tells her that he started composing it 20 years ago. Christine asks him to play her something from his “Don Juan”, but Erik refuses because “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”. It is quite significant that the “sing for me” motif is absent from the novel version, in contrast to the ALW version where it is very strong. Erik, in the novel, has no plans for Christine to sing any of his music. He wants her companionship and her love, and he wants to sing together with her and lose himself in their shared passion for music, but he definitely does not see her as an instrument of sorts. He did help advance her career, but not with the intention of having her perform his work.

Erik makes it clear that his own music is very different from Mozart’s „Don Giovanni“ and from “opera music” in general. “Don Juan Triumphant” can be seen as an allusion to Lord Byron’s epic poem “Don Juan” (in which, incidentally, Don Juan is sold as a slave to the sultana of Constantinople).

He sits down at the piano and starts singing the duet from “Otello” with Christine. There is of course more than one duet in “Otello”, but this one is most likely “Non arrestare il colpo/Notte per me funesta” from Act III (here: https://open.spotify.com/track/151M60b3qxzqKLDFwIVuUB?si=WX4TDWCeQVmIChqd6u7CyQ&dl_branch=1 and here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ep1OncGZCNR9yFevG6Pb6?si=QzG2JztuQ42MDoiVrLAaew&dl_branch=1 ) In this scene, Othello accuses Desdemona of betraying him, while she tries to convince him that she is innocent. She realizes that she has fallen victim to Iago’s plot, but Othello does not believe her and stabs her. This opera, for once, is in Italian, while most of the other pieces that appear in the “Phantom” are sung in French.

The unmasking in the novel happens while Christine is swept up in the passion of her duet with Erik. She “stepped closer to him, attracted and fascinated, enticed by the idea of dying at the center of such passion. But before dying [she] wanted to see his face…”

It’s not like she is sneaking up to him out of pure curiosity, but rather reacting to an instinctive wish to pull away the barrier between them. The scene is even more tragic because with a normal face, the passionate mood that Christine was in would have potentially led to her kissing him. But sadly, his face is anything but normal, so Christine recoils in horror instead. Erik’s reaction to the unmasking is violent and horrific as he goes mad with rage at her, even hurting his own face with her fingernails - an expression of his self-loathing. Throughout the scene, Christine seems fixated on the horror of his face more than his behaviour, though. Ashamed of himself, Erik crawls out of the room and shuts himself up in his bedroom.

“Apollo’s Lyre” by Annie Stegg Gerard

Erik’s appearance as described in the novel is indeed bordering the realm of the fantastic and supernatural. He is so stuffed with death symbolism that it is hard to take everything literally. Christine’s description makes it rather hard to see him as “real” because he seems to look like something straight out of a nightmare.

It is important to note that Erik is not just run-of-the-mill ugly, but that he is very clearly associated with death in many ways - from sleeping in a coffin and having funeral-style decor in his room to actually looking like a „living corpse“. Erik and Christine can be seen as a literal expression of the artistic topos „death and the maiden“, which especially towards the end of the 19th century associated death very strongly with the erotic (see https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/ for a very good overview of the motif). Death here is usually represented as either a skeleton or corpse, or as an angel - which is very much in line with Leroux’s Erik.

”Girl and Death” by Edvard Munch

Combined with the fact that Erik‘s music creates feelings of passion, rapture and ecstasy in Christine, it is not a big stretch to conclude that Erik is associated not only with death, but also with sexuality. The duality of sex as both a life-creating and life-threatening force was acutely perceived by the people of that period. Love and death are connected, and both are represented in Erik‘s character. ALW‘s musical adaptation recognized this strongly erotic undercurrent in the story and translated it very aptly into songs such as „Music of the night“ or „Point of no return“. The way in which Christine describes her lessons with Erik - that they “awakened an ardent, voracious, and sublime life” in her, and made her live in a “kind of ecstatic dream” can also be interpreted as her romantic awakening, with all the frightening emotional chaos attached to it.

Raoul, on the other hand, is more associated with purity and propriety - which is reflected in how he views Christine, and the standards that she must conform to in his opinion.

Before seeing Erik’s face, Christine admits that she *would* have come back, but that now, she would never return because “you don’t go back into a grave with a corpse that loves you”. Note how she switches from the first person to the impersonal “you” in this sentence - “you” might not do that, but we already know she did in fact go back more than once. And she is still able to see something of the angel in him because he does not take advantage of the situation, but leaves her alone, turning to his music again.

And then, “music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. Erik starts playing the finale of “Don Juan Triumphant” where “ugliness, lifted on the wings of love, had dared to look beauty in the face”. Through the music, Christine can glimpse into the depths of Erik’s heart and soul, feel his torment and suffering, and is overwhelmed with compassion.

Once again, she is the one to tear down the wall between them. She pushes open the door to Erik’s room and asks him to show his face, sincerely thinking that she can handle it - but it turns out, she really isn’t quite able to when there’s no music between them. But she manages to put on a brave facade and lie to him about being able to look at him without horror. She despises herself for her lies, but then she also does what she must in order to be set free. Erik takes her for walks along the shore of the underground lake, and for carriage rides to the Bois de Boulogne (that’s where they ran into Raoul in Chapter 9). After two weeks, Erik finally trusts her so much that he is willing to set her free (with conditions, of course). It’s really heartbreaking when she mentions how he dared to try to make her look at him even when he wasn’t singing, like a “timid dog”. At this point, he is in her power just as much as she is in his.

When she finally leaves, she is moved more by his tears than by his threats, and his pain is what gets her to come back in the first place: “Those sobs attached me to him more strongly than I thought when I said good-bye to him.” Part of why she is afraid to leave is that she fears it will kill him if she leaves him.

At the end of the chapter, Raoul asks the fateful question that sums up the tragedy of Erik and Christine:

“You’re afraid, but do you love me? If Erik were handsome, would you love me?” “Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I keep hidden at the back of my mind, like sins?”

Christine’s reply along the lines of “Don‘t ask” was cut from the de Mattos translation. It clearly evidences that Christine has conflicted feelings for Erik that go beyond only horror or pity, and that she prefers to suppress them so she doesn't have to deal with them. The statement also shows that if Erik had not been cursed with his face, then things might have looked very different for him and Christine. Attentive readers of de Mattos might nevertheless notice that her next line „If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips“ evades addressing the „what ifs“ Raoul posed, but it still makes her appear less conflicted than she really is. Christine’s heart is a pretty deep ocean of secrets, and at the back of her mind, there seem to be quite a few things that she is unwilling to admit to herself, as Raoul suspected before:

“You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all that is still love, of the most exciting kind! The kind you don’t admit to yourself.”

I haven‘t really counted, but this must be like the fifth time that Raoul insists on his suspicion that Christine is in love with Erik, and he just can‘t get a „no“ out of her. That “no” is given very directly though when he asks her if she hates him. She kisses Raoul to prove that she loves him, at the same time telling him that the kiss is just a one-time thing („for the first and last time“). Then “the night is torn apart”, and the last thing they see is a pair of glowing eyes looking down on them from Apollo’s lyre - which are clearly Erik’s, who has overheard the entire conversation…

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

#phantom of the opera #leroux phantom #lerouxreadingguide #gaston leroux #erik x christine #erik the phantom #erik in love #christine daae #the phantom of the opera #opera ghost #apollo‘s lyre #leroux #the phantom #raoul de chagny #poto

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satohqbanana · 2 years

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Aveyond Divergent Fate Part 13-2

A/N: The Ghedahre adventure continues…

While Rhen and Dameon are taking care of the butchery, Elini is taking Lars around town to help him calm down. His mood isn't really improving that much, so they sit down by the nearby river to talk about it.

Elini tries to get Lars to speak again of a demon that might be pestering him in his dreams, but Lars directs the conversation to the events in New Witchwood - in particular, Desdemona's tale about the boy from the Empire.

Forced to speak more to satisfy Elini's curiosity, Lars admits that he thinks it was his dad. He goes to explain Shadwood's tradition of sending its students to do "good deeds", and while there might be other people who fit the description, Lars could only really think of his father as the brilliant youth who helped to close Ghedahre off.

"Why? Because he's learned in politics?" "No. It's because... only he could've thought of such a thing at that age." Lars looks away. "He, he was a genius. A true genius. I never knew what was going on in his head." Elini places a hand on Lars' shoulder. "Hey. Children aren't really required to attain the same greatness as their parents, you know. That would be nice of course, but, isn't it better to focus on living an honorable life?" Her words make Lars smirk. "Does that come from experience?"

With Lars in a better mood, the two proceed to gather some information about the Cathedral of Darkness.

They meet up with Rhen, Dameon, and Danny in a common house for living blood banks. Danny recounts his tale: after he lost Dameon in the Southern Isle, Danny searched high and low in the Eastern Isle but found no trace of his friends. Eventually, he got distracted by the sights and the experience. As he expresses desire to continue travelling, both Rhen and Dameon tell him to just go home.

As Danny continues his tale to match with Devin's story, Lars notices how Rhen acts towards Danny. Lars makes a mental note of this, and waits until Dameon and Elini take the still-weak Danny into a room.

"So..." Lars slides next to Rhen. "Is that the apple of your eye?" Rhen's face turns pink. "W-what?! No! What are you--no, um, okay, maybe I used to like him a lot, but now, I don't like him that much anymore. I'm just very conscious and stuff. I swear!" "And yet you're so flustered?" "Hey! I'm not the one with a girlfriend here!" Lars rolls his eyes. "Look, Reina and I are only a couple on the political level, but on a personal level, we're nothing more than friends." "You're such a mean boyfriend! I can't imagine anyone wanting to marry you!" Lars gasps, disappointed and offended. "Excuse me?! I am a rich, handsome, and powerful man! You, however, are too brash and brutish, men would find it difficult to see you a potential bride!" Now, Rhen herself is offended. "Listen to you! You are so mean! It isn't too bad for a woman to be this spirited and strong!" "Woman?! You're just a girl!" "And you're just a boy with an ego this small!"

Rhen and Lars have to take it outside to spar a bit and continue their banter. They cease their petty arguments when Elini and Dameon follow them outside to remind them of their goal.

The two continue to spar as Elini and Dameon fill in and consolidate their information. Ghedahre's local cathedral is where the portal to the Cathedral of Darkness resides. Since the Druid of Darkness stopped visiting them, the vampires have had bouts of melancholia and restlessness. Some of their fashionable coping mechanisms include collecting ghosts, eating elephant garlic, and touching the walls of the cathedral for spiritual guidance.

They do have a challenge though: the local cathedral is crowded by vampires trying to get their fill of daily spiritual "sustenance". It would be difficult to get inside. In addition, they would also have to deal with Rashnu's guardians.

As they talk, a vampress approaches them and offers to help.

"How do we know we can trust you?" questions Rhen as she disentangles herself from Lars. The vampress winks. "Well, shall I introduce myself to you? I am Te'ijal, former acolyte of darkness, ex-student of Rashnu, the one whom you seek. Quite embarrassing it is to admit, I only know of the alternate route to skip my teacher's, ahem, boring lessons. Until one day, I just skipped the whole thing altogether!" Rhen and Lars can't say they don't relate, and they have to hold back on their own laughter as Te'ijal cackles. Elini then asks, "Will you accompany us to him?" "Gladly!"

Te'ijal says there's more to explain, but she fears it is the human's bedtime now. While Rhen is slightly wary towards Te’ijal, they agree to meet in the morning. The vampress leaves, and the party begins to prepare for bed.

Shortly before they part ways, Lars stares at Rhen.

"...what?" He thinks about Elini's words. After a while, he finally shakes his head. "Nothing. Good night." "Y-yeah. Good night."

In spite of herself, and in spite of their earlier conversation, Rhen finds herself blushing. She hadn't expected Lars to do that!

#aveyond #aveyond divergent fate #av1 #anne's av1 au #annelaurant writing

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.