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hellacioushag · 3 years

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tw: abuse/sexual assault

the hypocrisy of people using faux outrage about others drawing parallels between tamlin and azriel’s stories when they didn’t bat an eye about someone drawing similarities between a rapist and a sexual assault survivor to justify their shipping needs is astounding. if you read the post no one was saying tamlin and azriel are the same. i’m gonna detail my own thoughts on why these two mirror each others narrative, but with key differences.

abusive childhoods:

i feel like people forget that both tamlin and azriel were victims of an abusive household. the key difference is azriel’s history has made him want to defend those who cannot defend themselves/punish those who are the perpetrators of violence while tamlin gave into his anger and violence at the world. it’s a classic tale of being an abuse victim. you either grow up to separate yourself from your past and do better than your parents or you become just like them.

tamlin’s brothers would have murdered him as a babe in his bassinet if they suspected he had potential or desire for the high lord position. we also know tamlin’s father held slaves and was aligned with others who shared his view of the world in the war. pair these bits together and we can assume tamlin’s father was a more aggressive and violent father than even beron is. tamlin grew up in a home where he did not feel safe. and when his father tasked tamlin with finding out his enemy’s secrets tamlin obliged.

he was present and possibly participated in the butcher and murder of rhys’ family. this was a significant moment for tamlin’s turn into becoming an abuser like his father. he could have lied, he could have denied knowing the information about rhys’ mother and sister, but instead he gave that information over to his father knowing he was signing a death warrant. some could argue that he may have done this because of his own father’s abusive tendencies toward him, but this was the moment imo that tamlin went from a victim to a predator.

as for azriel we all know the abuse he suffered by his family. how his brothers tortured him and tried to have him killed. how he was denied any affection or love growing up and was taught that his existence was a stain on his family’s reputation. azriel could have easily turned into an abuser himself the way tamlin did, but being dumped into the illyrian camps and finding cassian and rhys saved him from that fate. his brotherhood with them was the turning point for azriel to no longer be a victim, but a survivor.

anger issues:

you can’t deny that both tamlin and azriel suffer with anger and control issues. it’s clear in the text they both have a barely contained, deep-seated anger that could be deathly when let loose. the key difference is tamlin has no one to reign him in, no one of his equal to calm that rage. azriel has this support system and has been shown to have utilized it when needed. i’m not going to go into a full analysis on all the examples, but I will point out the main ones I think we all know.

tamlin’s explosive anger was shown when he blew apart the library when feyre and he disagreed about her safety measures in acomaf. he could have easily hurt her had she not had magic to protect her (as seen when this same moment was repeated in acowar). tamlin let his rage and helplessness consume his every thought about protecting the person he loved and instead became the very threat he sought to protect her from. he let his paranoia about her being in danger prevent him from listening to her needs and locked her in a cage. this in itself was abusive, there’s no arguing this point. the part to note is that he as a high lord had no one of equal measure to talk him down, to help him see reason. when lucien tried to step in he was dismissed and abused himself. when feyre tried to speak up on her own behalf tamlin refused to listen and as high lord his word/wants/needs were law in his lands. he had no one who could provide a healthy perspective and so left unchecked he continued his abusive behavior.

azriel’s cold, lethal anger was shown when he exploded at the meeting with the high lords in acowar and attacked eris for a slight against mor. he was inches from letting the rage take hold of him and ending eris’s life. feyre, his high lady and friend, was able to calm him down and make him see reason. azriel is a trained spy and torture master, he’s supposed to be able to keep a cool head in high stressed situations, to act unemotionally to get his job done. however reliving the trauma of seeing a broken mor and imagining eris leaving her there consumed him with rage he could no longer contain. i’m not here to justify his actions. mor’s own trauma of seeing azriel fly off the deep end is enough for me to condemn his behavior. i am however pointing out that i think his reaction was not just about mor, but about reliving his own helplessness and loss of control and letting it consume him into a lethal rage.

the key difference with tamlin and azriel’s moments of all consuming rage is that azriel had someone to talk him down and let him see reason. tamlin refused the help of his own support system (lucien/feyre) and instead gave into his abusive and volatile tendencies. azriel could have easily done that same, but because of his brotherhood and friendships he has people to pull him back from the edge.

desire for love and acceptance:

both tamlin and azriel (and all characters in this series tbh) have a strong desire to love and be loved in return. the problem is when that desire for love becomes an obsession and entitlement. it becomes harmful when you think you’re owed something.

tamlin let his desire for feyre become obsessive. he had his soldiers hunt her down to drag her back to his home. he refused to accept that she was happy and healing away from him because he was in despair without her. he couldn’t fathom that she could be finding peace when he was being torn apart. he allied himself with monsters because he convinced himself that his love for feyre was the stuff of legend and that he was acting in a heroic manner. and even when he found out that she had a mate, something that is considered a sacred bond above all things to their people, he refused to accept that the cauldron/the mother/fate could be so cruel to deny him his happily ever after. feyre was his and he would reclaim her no matter what. he would defy the mother herself for his love. the problem with this is that he did not take into account feyre’s needs. when you love someone you put their needs above your own. he didn’t care that feyre was mated, that she loved rhys, because his obsession for her and belief that she belonged to him outweighed all reason. his love for her turned toxic if you can even call it love to begin with.

azriel is a bit different, but the parallels are there. he’s not at the obsessive point yet (masturbating to pain killers notwithstanding) and he may never get there. one could argue he spent 500+ years being obsessed with mor, but his support system held him in check. that when he saw mor flirting and sleeping with others he leaned on his brothers, on cassian, to distract him and help him through the pain of knowing the person he loved didn’t love him back. and regarding elain i think whatever is between them is entirely too new to relate it to his feelings for mor, but it’s also looking to be just as unhealthy. he didn’t bat an eye about fighting lucien in a blood duel and seemed to welcome the challenge. he knows that if lucien were to die that pain could destroy elain. even if she doesn’t love lucien, has not accepted the mating bond, she and he are soulbound. if he were to die it could shatter her, but he didn’t seem to think of that consequence at all.

when he questioned the wisdom of making them mates in the first place, when he claimed “what if the cauldron was wrong?” and then rationalized his thoughts by saying 3 sisters for 3 brothers.... this is a callback to tamlin refusing to believe the cauldron would deny him love by mating feyre to rhys. questioning why he doesn’t have a mate of his own isn’t inherently bad, but implying that because his brothers found mates with 2 of 3 sisters so lucien doesn’t deserve the 3rd is. when he doesn’t talk to his brother about why he desires elain and instead talks about why fate has robbed him of a sister it stands to reason why rhys would take exception to this way of thinking. it’s bordering on toxic and i’m glad rhys was there to pull rank on azriel.

are tamlin and azriel the same?

no, didn’t you listen to anything said? they are not the same and the key difference as to why is because azriel has a support system of brothers and friends that he can rely on to keep him in check. tamlin has pushed away any form of support and has embraced his beastly abusive behavior. saying that their story parallels is not saying azriel is an abuser like tamlin. it’s pointing out why tamlin’s story is a cautionary tale for azriel’s future journey. it’s outlining that while they may share similar aspects of an abusive past, anger issues, and longing for love and affection they are not the same people at their core because of the way they deal with their trauma.

#acotar #acotar metas #acosf #azriel #tamlin #they are not the same #but they do parallel to each other #can't wait to see people say i'm a tamlin apologist #or i'm equating az and tamlin #cause people in this fandom seem to not understand how to comprehensively read

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dappersheep · 3 years

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Food Fantasy: An Analysis on what killed a Golden Goose (3/3)

Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived at our final destination.

Again before we start, we have our obligatory disclaimers. I do not own the game or its characters, nor do I claim to know the true history and likely fate of this game. I am entitled to the thoughts and opinions written within this post. Feel free to agree or disagree with the points being made.

This post also remains untagged from the main foofan tag. Only my followers will see this.

We are in the third and final stretch, and the checkpoint is past the cut.

Community

So... here we are, fellow Master Attendants.

As consumers of this piece of entertainment media, we are free to enjoy it however we wish. Appreciating what is there, creating something new from what exists, playing the game by the meta or however you want to play it (within your means and at your own risk of course). There's no one true and absolute way to experience the game.

However, just as you can enjoy something, doesn't mean you can't also point out flaws or shortcomings of the media in question. As an active veteran player, I've already pointed out the many gameplay design flaws already. And I'd be pretty dumb to say that Food Fantasy's writing is perfect. Hell, it has a lot of holes from a worldbuilding consistency standpoint.

And what of things from the community side? Yes, there will be times you'd see content you consider cringe, or something in fanon you don't agree with. Or there happens to be fan theories and fangirling posts you don't like the take of because of X or Y.

And that's fine. If we all happen to play the same way, like the same thing, agree on the same thing and produce the same thing, well, this would be one helluva boring community, wouldn't it?

But what if someone decides the way you're playing the game is wrong and harasses you over it? What happens if someone decides that their interpretation of the game's flavor text and lore is more important than what anyone else thought about it? What happens if someone decides that they're absolutely right, and you and everyone else who disagrees deserves to be bullied out of the fandom?

As much as I want to say we aren't part of the problem why the game is deteriorating, we are unfortunately, part of the reason why the game is as such even if most of the blame is directed towards Funtoy and Elex themselves.

⦁ Whale Authority. Whales will always be part of a gacha game's ecosystem. Without them, the game won't be able to maintain its upkeep costs, moreso for one that services global regions instead of just one. But when a game decides to cater its decisions of what features should be prioritized and when it should be launched around only its most elite paying players' voices -even if that influence has since tapered off-, you know there is something wrong with the publisher's management team and priorities.

⦁ Interguild drama. While I did not personally follow any of this, this has certainly been the peak of in-game tension back in the day. Poaching good players from both competitive and smaller guilds, guild mergers that often ended up making the annexed guild/s the equivalent of UK colonized India or Australia, suck-ups chummying up to guild leaders to keep a spot in an active, high ranking guild (for bragging rights!) despite never contributing much to overall damage, and just general dislike of certain players' attitudes. Actions like this have disillusioned many players about their playing experience and the reason why many eventually just lost the motivation to log into FooFan.

⦁ Cheaters. You know very well about the Hacker-teme I've mentioned before, but that was in context of Elex being incompetent with dealing with them. Here, I would like to point out the players who are desperate to dominate the playing field for whatever reason to the point that they would resort to cheating the ranks with forceful modifications of the APK. Whether it is to rank high in catacombs weekly, get a top spot in daily disaster damage, or weasel their way into the competitive whale ranks of a major ranking event, these are the people who have no qualms messing with the code to give themselves an easier time with the game. And if they're caught? Some pretend that they've made a mistake, some quickly sell the account to escape the blame, some others just scamper away into the dark and hide in the lower ranks where they can't be found. Others simply don't care and keep cheating until Elex decides to finally ban them... if Elex ever decides their rebates score isn't worth saving the account.

⦁ Ship wars. Ah yes, a staple of drama in any fandom. There doesn't need much explanation to this as we've all had our fair share of running into a battleground in whatever fandom we visit. Someone ships BB52 wholeheartedly? Nope, problematic 'age gaps'. Someone likes Napoleon with Pastel? Someone's bound to misinterpret their bios in order to justify that Napoleon was being abusive. Spaghetti and Borscht? Borscht is minor coded, ship her with Vodka instead. Whiskey and Pizza or Cassata? Cancelled! And I've never heard of the Foe Yay trope or pretend I don't know about it! Rarepairs? Disgusting! No fanon in my canon playground! Turkey and Eggnog? Gasp! How dare you, you pedo-shipper-even-though-you-never-said-you-shipped-them-romantically-but-that-isn't-my-point!

⦁ Character Obsession: Bias. On one hand, you love a character so much. Relate to a character so much. You have thus pulled this character into the folds of your bosom and coo at them like a mother dove and get so minutely triggered if someone so much as makes one disagreeable or joking comment about the character that you fly into an overreactive ballistic rage that would make a Canadian goose honk in fear. You don't care what they are in canon. You don't care about the possibility of mistranslation. What matters is the fanon space you carved out for them to exist in and that's all that matters. The problem with this is when this obsession takes over common sense and social etiquette and it steps into harassment territory. You begin to think: I'm the only one who 'understands' the character. I'm the only one who wishes better for the character, everyone else is out to defame them! Oh wait, you like them too? Do you like them the way *I* like them? No? Maybe if you're my 'friend', I'd let it slide. But to everyone else? No one else has the right to like them as much as I do. No one! Never mind that they're completely fictional- No one hurts my bias because in turn, they're hurting *me*!

⦁ Character Obsession: Anti. On the other hand, you hate a character so much. This character just makes you see so much red. Their smug little smirk just makes your blood boil. Their fictional backstory makes you recoil in disgust. You hate that someone else loves a character you hate so much. You cannot *believe* that someone could be so daringly stupid to like a problematic character. They must be problematic too then. They must be hiding real life secrets that are problematic! Yes, yes. That's right. That person's a supporter of abuse. That person's into pedophilia. That person is into military lolita fashion that Japan started the trend of but clearly Japan was part of the Axis Powers! And that... that person... that person... is a roleplayer and a yaoi fangirl properly interacting with minors and adults. How dare they...!

⦁ Fan Translations. Normally it wouldn't be a problem that a group or two or several are translating pieces of the game's lore ahead of the official. But with Elex's very delayed translations and extreme allergic reactions to translating Food Soul bios, people have become dependent on fan-translation groups to get their fix. The problem herein lies... is when the translators get drunk off the power that they are one of a handful in a small community who can magically transcribe the oriental moonrunes into English. The problem starts when the translator starts to have an inclination. The problem starts when the translator loses their professional detachment and start adding in details here and there into the fan translated product that ultimately changes the meaning and direction of the entire story. The problem is also escalated when that translator's embellished product is touted as the truth by their followers. If there was an upcoming character whose backstory is connected to a character they hated (either because of someone or they just don't like the character) and you were hoping to read the fan translation? How would you know that what you get isn't something doctored to the point it's basically fanfiction?

⦁ Social Justice Vigilantism. Sometimes someone does not have a character obsession or need it to be annoying. Sometimes, someone just wants to ring the alarm over something they find 'problematic' in order to police and sanitize the enjoyment of the media for 'everyone'. They no longer really take enjoyment out of a new Food Soul design being leaked, they no longer read the lore just to enjoy what it has to offer. Instead, they nitpick bits and pieces of the design and point it out repeatedly as a reason why the whole thing is bad. They point out bits of the story and inject their interpretations of it without really comprehending what they've read in full and react badly to it. What's worse is that they have no qualms publicly posting their reactions and eagerly and hungrily await those likes and echoes of agreement that they were right.

⦁ Circles of Influence. Everyone has a group they eventually gravitate to in a fandom. It comes with its own pros and cons. Sometimes you join a group because someone you admire is in there, sometimes you join a group because you just want to mingle and see more content. All valid reasons. Arguments can't be avoided in a group, it has to happen... But you have to take care. You have to take care to feel the change in the air of the group. When someone starts pushing people to agree with them. When your most admired people start to feel overly sensitive about certain characters or issues. When you start to feel obligated to spy on other groups outside of this one for 'nonbelievers', 'traitors' and 'heretics' who do not think the way this group does, and that bringing back bits and pieces of gossip as offerings would somehow make you more favored in the eyes of the inner clique or remain inside it. There is a gripping sense of annoyance when that person comes in to complain but you can't do anything about it but nod and agree. There is a pervading sense of fear and apprehension of overstepping an invisible boundary. There is fear that you might be next on the chopping block, after witnessing one of the others being ganged up on and thrown out without a second thought, their name spat upon like they're worth less than dirt. And so reluctant you are to give up what you have with them that when they push you to do something you are reluctant to do, all in the name of 'harmony and justice'... You do it. Even though it would mean offering yourself up to the mob with no salvation, and the stark realization that... [they] never cared about you as a friend.

And we've come to the end of this analysis trilogy. The writing got a little bit strange in this post, but honestly this is the best way I could put it. I'm aware things can and will be more complicated than the bullet points I've written but I'm just one person and I tried very hard to keep details of all the drama that happened in this fandom as vague as possible. Of course, that wouldn't work if you know what I am talking about.

The community is quiet now for the most part, the game is somewhere between limbo and the living plane. Things could be better for us, but I don't really count on it.

I wish I could leave a bit of a moral warning or something. But rather than do that, I just hope this was an entertaining read into one individual's eyes into Food Fantasy and everything that makes it up.

#ravings of a madman #food fantasy but not tagged right

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kairoscelrosis · 3 years

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Ocean Eyes - A Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader Fic

Series: Star Trek TOS

Pairings: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader, Implied Spirk

Characters: Reader, Leonard “Bones” McCoy, James T Kirk, Spock, Montgomery Scotty, Nyota Uhura

Trigger Warnings: No triggers apply.

Word Count: 5,202 words

Author’s Note:

This is my first fic! It has a small amount of fluff, but its mainly full of a plot revolving around the two mentioned relationships.

You can also find this fic on Wattpad.

Summary:

Y/N is confused about her feelings for Dr. McCoy. When Spock and Kirk come to know, they devise a fantabulous plan to bring both of them together.

I was lying down on my bed in a darkened room. Thoughts wandered, but always stopped on one thing. Rather, on one person. It’s weird. I had always liked him a lot – platonically, of course. This was different. “What the hell?”, I said out loud. But that didn’t help the storm raging in my mind. My alarm beeped. 1530 hours. “Damn.” I huffed, got changed, and left for the Bridge. My eight-hour shift was about to begin.

______________________________________________________________

On the bridge

“Captain.”, I said in a confident, but tired voice. “Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting for Beta Shift.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Kirk replied without looking towards me. “Please report to Mr. Spock for this shift’s agenda. You will be taking over from him for the Beta shift.”

I walked over to Mr. Spock’s science station. “Commander Spock. Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting.” His head bobbed in a small greeting.

Spock and I had known each other since my academy days when he was my professor for most subjects. He was my role model and mentor, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He was also my closest friend on the ship.

After briefing me with the progress he had made on the current star charting assignment and about his inferences on the nearby nebula, Spock walked over to Kirk, and whispered something. Kirk nodded and said, “Please continue with our research assignments. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I’ll be in my quarters.”

______________________________________________________________

Spock’s POV

After filling in Y/N, I walked over to the Captain and quietly said, “Captain, I would like to speak with you.” He nodded, gave his usual orders, and both of us left the bridge for his quarters.

Once in the sanctuary of his quarters, the Captain turned to me, and asked, “What is it, Mr. Spock? You seem concerned.”

I replied in the affirmative, and said, “My concern is for Lieutenant Y/L/N, sir. She seems to be ‘out of her elements’, as would be expressed in Terran colloquial.”

The Captain offered a small, though rueful smile at this. “I agree with you Mr. Spock. She is not one of the outspoken ones, but she does seem a bit… subdued. Perhaps we should ask her what the problem is?”

“Perhaps. Though I have another suggestion sir. We are going to take a short shore leave on Star Base 12 in a few hours. Why not relieve Lieutenant Y/L/N early from her Beta shift so that she can recuperate and make the most out of this shore leave?”

“Yes Mr. Spock. An excellent idea. Anyhow, we take shore leaves only once in a blue moon, so why not allow her to rest a bit before going back out into the dark. I believe we will establish orbit around Star Base 12 by 1800 hours. I myself will relieve her at 1830 hours. Thank you for bringing this to my notice Mr. Spock.”

“My pleasure.”

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later…

Y/N’s POV

After several attempts to refuse an early shore leave and in complete denial of any need of this favour, I had finally beamed down onto Star Base 12.

Along with Scotty.

You might wonder why I was accompanied by the Chief Engineer. That was because of my resistance to go down. Kirk had asked Scotty to accompany me so that I did not sneak back onto the ship. I sighed inwardly.

Wanting to make the most of this time, I asked Scotty to come along with me to a street market. I loved the vibe of street markets – the dim lights, the muffled voices, walking around – it was the perfect ambience to relax.

“Hey Scotty! Come on!” I turned and called to Scotty, who was dragging his feet like a bored teenager. “Ach lass! I didn’t know that I’d have to babysit ya today. I wanted to go to the bar.” He moaned.

“Okay, okay, Lieutenant Commander Scott. Lieutenant Y/L/N will not hold you for long. Come, roam around with me for a while, and then we’ll both go to the bar.”

His face lit up like that of a child on Christmas morning. After that, there was a certain bounce in his step, not stalling anymore.

While scanning the stalls, I saw a small, wooden stringed instrument which piqued my interest. Picking it up gingerly, I held it in my hands. It felt right.

“Ah lass! What are ya doing with a ukulele?”

“You know the name of this instrument?” The shopkeeper asked, visibly surprised.

“Yes of course! My gran used to play this really well. She got it as an heirloom from her mother, who got it from her mother.”

I strummed the strings of the ukulele tentatively. A beautiful sound, though not very melodious, emerged.

“Can I buy this? It’s beautiful.”

The shopkeeper smiled, “You have really good taste. I can see you play this beautifully. That will be ten credits. If you want, I can teach this to you as well.” Her offer seemed genuine.

“Thank you so much!”

______________________________________________________________

At the bar

I let an evil grin emerge. Scotty had his head down. I had known his weakness, and now I had the chance to escape.

Well, escape is a strong word, but I had been forced to come down – so it was justified.

I had just drunk a glass of iced tea, not preferring to be hungover the next morning. I had never really liked drinking anyway.

As I was sneaking out of the bar, I saw HIM coming in. My heart immediately jumped into my mouth, beating like crazy. I hid behind the table where an employee was granting entry to the guests. He gave me a weird look but did nothing about me being there.

Once certain that HE was gone, I brushed my clothes, held my head high and started to walk towards the door, when I heard someone call me, and I froze.

“Y/N? Whatcha doin’ here? I thought ya didn’t drink.” The southern drawl rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“H-Hey Doc. Yeah, I don’t drink. I was just giving Scotty some company. I’m going back to my room now.”

“’Kay, great! Have a nice evening.” He sauntered away to where Scotty lay knocked out.

This was getting harder day by day.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I was back in my quarters on the Enterprise. Last night had been great, though I won’t admit this to anyone.

After encountering Bones at the bar, I had gone to the shopkeeper who had sold me the ukulele, and I sat there till late at night, learning the basics. I picked up the chords pretty quickly and was onto my first song by midnight. The street shops were open till 2 in the morning, and the shopkeeper seemed keen on teaching me, so I figured why not learn as much as I could.

She told me she had many copies (yes, actual paper copies!) of songs. She called them scores or sheet music. She gave me all the copies of scores she possessed, and I was so grateful!

Rand smuggled me back onto the ship by manning the transporter. She was going down in a while and didn’t mind disobeying Kirk.

The clock flashed 0800 hours as I was snapped out of my thoughts about the previous night. I wanted to utilize the rest of my shore leave efficiently. I got up, showered, and walked to the replicator. When nothing came out even after swiping the card multiple times, I let a sigh out and decided that I’d have to go to the mess.

I swaggered along the deserted decks and corridors of the ship, making no effort to conceal myself. Most people were down on the planet, including the two I wanted to avoid.

Walking into the mess, I ordered popcorn (weird choice, I know) and sat down. Spock, who had entered the mess just after me, slid into the seat opposite me, both of us falling into a comfortable silence. We often had our breakfast together. I was one of the people closest to Spock.

Putting down the Vulcan equivalent of an apple, Spock looked at me and asked, “How are you Y/N? You seemed extremely sombre yesterday. That is unlike you.”

The corner of my mouth lifted slightly at his concern. “I am fine.” I replied. “I guess the work got to me. Yesterday was a nice break.” So much for not telling anyone, I thought, amused. “I don’t think Kirk thought of relieving me early yesterday. Someone else was behind that move.” I gave a teasing grin. Spock’s eyes crinkled in a semblance of a grin.

Once done with our respective meals, I said, “Come to my quarters tonight, Spock. I’ll tell you about my evening and you can tell me about yours. Maybe I’ll even play you something. Bring your lyre as well. I wanna hear you play it.”

Spock bobbed his head, confirming that he’d be there.

______________________________________________________________

That evening

I heard knocking at the door. “Come in.” Spock walked in with his Vulcan lyre in hand. I gave him a smile.

Though my quarters were small, I had made enough space for us to sit comfortably, without invading each other’s space. He sat down on the straight backed, cushioned seat which he preferred, and I pulled my desk chair to sit on.

We talked about the events of last night, me reciting everything other than the event when I ran into the Doc (that incident was kept to myself for the time being). Spock told how he had done some work in the science lab, read a book, and practiced playing the lyre (though he didn’t need any).

“You said that you were going to play for me?” It was more a request than a question. “Yeah.”, I replied. “I bought this old Terran stringed instrument called the ukulele yesterday, and the lady who sold it to me taught me how to read sheet music and also helped me play my first song. It’s “Ocean Eyes” by Billie Eilish from 2016. I’ve heard it before. You wanna hear it?”

Spock lifted his eyebrows in classic Spock fashion, essaying his agreement.

I rarely sang, but when I did, it was only in the privacy of my own quarters. Spock had heard me sing, though not very often.

I started strumming, trying to pick the beat from where I had to start the vocal.

I've been watchin' you for some time Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes Burning cities and napalm skies Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Your ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen fro…

I faltered. Spock nodded, his eyes intently watching, eyebrow perked. I could see something glint in his eyes but didn’t understand what it was. I resumed the strumming.

I've never fallen from quite this high Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind Careful creature made friends with time He left her lonely with a diamond mind And those ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen from quite this high Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I had been nervous, not because it was my first time playing this song in front of somebody (because I knew Spock would never disregard the importance of beginning, and subsequently growing as a person), but because this song reminded me of a certain someone. If Spock connected the dots, I don’t know what his reaction would be, and whether he would tell McCoy or Jim.

There was silence for a moment. Spock opened his mouth to say something, but then, his communicator beeped. Flipping it open, he said, “Spock here.”

Kirk’s voice cracked through. “Mr. Spock. I request you to please report to my quarters. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Spock looked at me, that glint still there. I nodded my assent and picked up his lyre from my bed and handed it to him, as he stood from his chair to leave.

I mouthed, “See you later”, and then the door shut.

Lying down on my bed, I decided that it would be best to go to sleep.

But sleep just wouldn’t come.

______________________________________________________________

Spock’s POV

I had had a nice evening with Y/N, though the lyrics of her song still perplexed me. I was reminded of someone by those lyrics, but I can’t seem to determine whom. My brain was “short-circuiting”, as Jim would say, but I was not able to put a finger on who the song pointed to. I had known Y/N long enough to know that this wasn’t just “nothing”, though that’s what she wanted me to believe.

I didn’t know what to make of Jim’s call either. He had planned to stay ashore for at least 12 more hours, but he now was aboard the ship. Though Jim’s words had been authoritative, his tone was friendly and indicated that this had nothing to do with the ship.

I knocked on the door of Jim’s quarters, and heard a small “Come in”. When I walked in, Jim was seated at his desk, his hands intertwined into a tent. “A ‘deep in thought’ position” I thought.

“Jim. Is something troubling you?” Jim looked up and gestured me to sit down. I complied. “No Spock, nothing is troubling me. It’s just, I think I know now why Y/N has been so quiet.”

I gave him a quizzical look.

“Spock, I believe you were with Y/N when I called you?” I nodded. I couldn’t understand where this was going.

“What were you doing?” One of my eyebrows lifted in confusion. Why was Jim asking that?

“Jim, I don’t think you should ask that. I think, on Earth, this is called snooping. Though you are a good friend of Y/N’s, it is my moral responsibility not to tell you anything about what she told or did in confidence.”

Jim’s eyes expressed the same warmth as his smile when I said that. “True gentleman you are, Mr. Spock. Okay, I’ll tell you why I asked that question.” My eyebrows perched higher, indicating my interest.

“I was going to Y/N’s chamber to admonish her for not following her Captain’s orders.”

My expression moved from interested to inquiring.

“I had ordered Y/N to stay on the planet for the entirety of the shore leave. However, when I went to her room at the lodging, she wasn’t there. She had told McCoy that she would be in her room. I knew where she would be – in her quarters, aboard the Enterprise. I walked to her quarters, mock-fuming, and was about to knock, when I heard her start singing.”

I opened my mouth to rebuke Jim for eavesdropping, when he interrupted, “I know Spock, but I had no intention to eavesdrop. I was just drawn to her voice and that song. I love that song.”

“Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish?”

“Yeah, that one. I was surprised that you didn’t hear me standing outside, what with your enhanced hearing.”

I paused for a moment before I spoke, staring past Jim’s shoulder, my eyes resting on his laurels. “I had been thinking about something.”

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

Spock had apparently zoned out. That was a first.

“I think I can guess what you were thinking about.”

Spock’s eyebrows flew up. “Do you?” he enquired.

��Yes Spock, I think I do. And I think you do too, now. You have arrived at a conclusion, and I would like you to share it with me.”

Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then turned to face me. “I think this has something to do with Dr. McCoy.” My smile turned into a grin. Spock was REALLY smart with this stuff for a person who swore by logic. Spock took this as a confirmation that he was correct.

“I assume I am correct. However, I do not fully understand.”, he remarked.

“My dear Spock, I was surprised that you inferred this much.” If Spock’s brows could go higher, they would have. “It is my hypothesis that Y/N likes Dr. McCoy, but she is in denial.” Spock’s face expressed a mixture of distaste and bewilderment. I chuckled.

“I have known Y/N since our academy days. She is slightly younger than me, but she was always a prodigy. Always top of the class. Not just with marks or grades, but with her work ethic as well. She has never been in a relationship; she never felt the need to be in one. Now, she reminds me a lot of someone I know. Maybe that’s why both of them are such good friends.” I looked at Spock. His face radiated a hint of pride.

I continued. “And now, she is faced by this overwhelming feeling, one I doubt she ever felt before. And she is uncertain, how to act on this feeling, or whether to act at all.”

Realization dawned on Spock’s visage. Then, it was replaced by dubiousness and even a hint of distaste. “But why Dr. McCoy?” he asked. I let out a hearty laugh. Everyone knew of the friendly banter between him and McCoy.

“No Jim, I am serious. I care for Y/N deeply, though not in a romantic sense. If the doctor did anything to hurt her, I would disapprove.”

By “disapprove” I knew Spock would go on a killing spree. And the first would be Bones. I grinned inwardly. This was starting to get interesting, and I now had a chance to tease Spock.

“Isn’t disapproval a human emotion?” I tried (and failed) to keep the smirk off my face.

Spock looked at me dead in the eyes. My stomach suddenly became a bottomless pit. With an intense gaze, he whispered, “Yes.”

______________________________________________________________

Bones’ POV

I was on my way to the Transporter Room when Uhura said that she had a message from Joanna. Her messages really made my day. I asked her to transfer the message to the intercom in the Transporter Room.

I walked into the transporter room, which seemed to be deserted. “Never mind”, I thought. I would have preferred to listen to the message alone, so I didn’t mind. I switched on the intercom and confirmed that I had reached the Transporter Room.

Immediately, Joanna’s message started playing.

“Hey Papa!”, her sweet voice chirped. I smiled. “I was a few light years away from Earth, so decided that why not spend my holiday on our home planet. I went to Georgia and checked on our house and the farm. Everything is in place. I am off to India to spend a week or two. I have a month before I join the Farragut as their nurse trainee. I am really excited! Tell me if the Enterprise’s schedule matches with the Farragut’s, so that we can meet soon. Love you and meet you soon!”

“Wow”, I breathed. “What an exciting young lady.” I thanked Uhura, and then typed up my message on my PADD and sent it to her. I still like sending her emails, though they were considered ancient. “Hmm.” I hummed. “Forever the sensualist.”

______________________________________________________________

Later that evening

I was trying to find the bar where Scotty had asked me to join him, when I caught a glimpse of Y/N coming out of a bar. I had heard that she had been accompanied by Scotty onto the surface, so I started walking towards her. I heard some laughter and turned to look in the direction of the commotion. Seeing nothing of significance, I faced again towards my destination, searching for Y/N, but she had disappeared. “Weird”, I mumbled.

I stepped into the foyer and was about to enter the bar when I turned around, wondering where Y/N had gone. And there she was! I called out her name and made small talk. Then we both went our separate ways.

I spotted Scotty and hurried towards his seat. “Got started without me, huh?”, I teased. Scotty, who had had is head down, lifted it and slurred, “Why are yer cheeks red, eh McCoy? Had a swig on the ship, huh?” I knitted my eyebrows together. I hadn’t been drinking. I dismissed it to be the cold.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

A blinding light flashed in my eyes. “Who’s it? What’re you doin’?” I caught a glimpse of a blue shirt. It reminded me of someone.

“Y/N?”

“Bones why do you have to drink so much? You always get hungover and start hallucinating. Then I have to take care of you. Dammit, I’m a Starship captain, not a doctor.”

“Ah Jimmy boy. Take me home now, will ya?”

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I woke up with a splitting headache. When I opened my eyes and looked around that I realized I was not in my quarters. Hell, I wasn’t even on the Enterprise.

“Shit.” I cursed softly.

“Finally, you are up, huh? I really think you could’ve given Sleeping Beauty a run for the money.”

I huffed. I knew that voice well. Maybe too well. And I knew what that meant. “I’m sorry Jim. Just got flown away with the drinking last night. I don’t even remember you picking me up.”

“I think we should stop booking an extra room for you. You always end up crashing in mine during shore leaves.”, Jim remarked sarcastically, getting up from the reading chair and putting down his PADD.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better.” He handed me a glass of lemonade.

“What, you’re gonna use my own hacks against me?”

“Shut up and drink it.”

I accepted the glass and started taking sips from it.

“You know, you said something last night which made me think a lot.”

“Well, that’s new.” I remarked with a smirk.

Jim feigned annoyance, then continued. “You know, when I came to pick you up last night, I was wearing a blue shirt.”

“Mh-hm”

“And when you saw me, you said, ‘Y/N?’. Were you expecting her or something?”

“Hmm. I don’t remember saying that actually. Maybe that was because I saw her last night before going into the bar. She was hiding from somebody, I guess. And I was surprised to even see her at a bar – she doesn’t drink, you know.”

Jim nodded. “Do you know where she went?”

“She said she was going to her room.” I said, matter-of-factly.

“’Kay.”

______________________________________________________________

That evening

Jim had left for the Enterprise – he had some work onboard. I decided that I’d roam around the markets for a while. I never was a fan of shopping, but Christine always asked me to take small memorabilia from each planet I visited for Joanna. She seemed to like it – so I didn’t mind too much.

Hands tucked behind my back, I strolled through the stalls. I came across a shop selling ancient art prints. There were abstract paintings, movie poster recreations and the like. I picked up a print of warm toned abstract art and a recreation of the Titanic poster for Joanna. Suddenly, a small necklace and bracelet caught my eye. It didn’t seem to have any lustre, but it had an aura that I was drawn to. Entranced, I asked what it was.

“It is Vokaya – a rare Vulcan jewel.” The shopkeeper said. He was Vulcan as well. So much for being in a green-hobgoblin-free zone. But really, I was mesmerised by this ornament, and ended up buying it.

Walking back to my room, I huffed. I had never been an impulsive buyer. Thinking about the peculiar feeling that had filled me, I walked down the corridor and entered my room.

And collided with someone standing straight like a rod.

I groaned. I knew who this was.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

The next morning

I finally got out of my bed – I had barely gotten any sleep. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about my encounter with Bones last night and Spock’s reaction to me singing that song. He must have figured it out by now.

“Well – how bad can the situation get?” I murmured.

Before I could go into the washroom to get ready for the day, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

In stormed Jim Kirk – his expression unreadable.

“Captain? What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Jim, please; I’m off duty.” Sitting down on the chair where Spock had sat last night, he said, “Calm down Y/N. Nothing’s wrong. Can’t a friend come to talk to another friend when everyone else is on shore leave?” He flashed that “I am charming” smile. I rolled my eyes.

“Sit down Jim. Let me get dressed. Then we can have breakfast together in the mess.”

Jim shook his head. “I think we should eat in my quarters.”

That was new. Why did Jim want to have breakfast alone? “Okay…” I said, sounding hesitant.

Jim gave me a smile, a genuine one. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Really. It’s nothing.”

Knowing Jim for so many years had made one thing clear:

When he said, “It’s nothing.”, there really WAS something.

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

When I entered Y/N’s quarters, she looked a mess. She had always been an extremely graceful and likeable person – after all, we both were nerds. But today, there was something off. She had eyebags beneath her eyes, and her tired demeanour indicated that she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

But I could not bail out on Spock’s plan. So, it would have to do.

Spock had come up with something which was very unlike Spock – but the man never failed to surprise me. We had done what we had to do with McCoy. It hadn’t been easy, because he would not sleep at night, and kept protesting when he woke up. But we had managed.

He was in his quarters, unaware what was happening. We had brought him aboard forcefully. He won’t sit there for long. We had to hurry.

“Hey, Jim. Let’s go.”

I snapped my head in the direction of the voice.

“After you”

As the door slid open, a small voice came through.

“I am sorry Y/N.”

And then, Y/N slumped unconscious.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

Bones POV

Spock and Jim had been acting weird. Like, they have always been slightly off their hooks, but today, there was an air of urgency about them.

That is extremely discomforting with Spock, because usually he is the patient one preventing Jim from running around like a headless chicken.

I was pacing around my quarters. I had been asked to stay inside until called. “Captain’s orders.”, Jim had said.

I huffed. Did he really think I was going to listen to him? It had been a while since they had left, and I decided to get some work done.

Before I could decide what was the agenda for today, my intercom whistled. “McCoy here.”

“Uhura here.” Her voice was strained. “Doctor, please hurry to the Bridge. There is an emergency. Y/N has fainted.” Cursing under my breath, I picked up my medical kit and rushed out of the door.

The doors of the turbolift slid open and I walked out, worried what had happened. I looked around but there was no one. Perplexed, I scanned the bridge for any signs of hastened evacuation. My eyes landed on a head poking from the Captain’s chair.

I walked to the chair and turned it around. Y/N was slumped unconscious in it. I took her pulse, but it was really faint. I took out a hypo and filled it with cordrazine. This was risky material, but it would wake Y/N up for sure. The hypo hissed as it pressed it into her forearm, and she stirred.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

My head was throbbing. My eyes fluttered, but they won’t open. “Too bright”, I mumbled. Someone standing next to me said, “Computer, dim the lights.” The voice mumbled something, then stopped. My eyes opened, and then focussed on the person kneeling beside me. “Doctor?” I said, voice cracking.

“Yeah Y/N. What happened? Why did you faint? Why are you sitting in the Captain’s chair? Do you remember anything?”

I looked around, a bewildered look covering my face. I didn’t remember coming to the bridge. “I don’t know Doc… I don’t even remember coming to the bridge…” McCoy got up quickly and started examining me with his tricorder.

“No signs of mental trauma. Are you sure you don’t remember coming here?” I nodded. Looking around, I now noticed that the lighting was pinkish. “Hey Doc… why is the lighting here pink?” I failed to keep the smile off my face.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. When you woke up, I ordered the computer to dim the lights. It did, but the lights also became pink.”

Suddenly, it hit me. “Oh my God. I just remembered. This has something to do with Jim. And Spock. Jim had come to my quarters to invite me for breakfast. When I was about to walk out, somebody said, ‘I am sorry Y/N.’, and then I fainted.”

McCoy’s eyes had grown wide. He seemed angry. “Come on. Let’s find the two devils.”

I tried getting up but stumbled. McCoy held my forearm and held me up. Then he stopped. “Y/N. There’s a piece of paper stuck to your back.” Confused, I asked him to remove it. “It won’t come off.”

“What does it say?”

“Um… It says, ‘I’ve been watching you for some time; Can’t stop staring at those ocean eyes.’”

I froze. I turned around to face McCoy and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, but I could see the gears turning in his mind. Would he be angry? Or upset? I half expected him to just shrug and walk away, when surprisingly he held my hand and kissed it.

I tilted my head like a confused squirrel, giving him a look of *almost* disbelief.

He chuckled, “Yeah I get it now. But before we get all sweet, I really wanna hunt down both the red-blooded and the green-blooded devils. They are not going to get away with this.”

I looked into his eyes, for the first time today.

And I felt myself sinking deep into the ocean of his eyes.

______________________________________________________________

Epilogue

Spock’s POV

We had watched the events on the bridge as they took place trough the security cameras. By we, I mean Jim, I and Uhura.

Uhura was laughing so hard that she was on the verge of choking. Jim was bursting with laughter and happiness, his cheeks red. The sight made me want to smile broadly.

“Oh my God Spock, you really are a genius. This was the cleverest shipping of two people ever!”

I tilted my head, asking him what “shipping” meant.

“Never mind. Let’s go now. Otherwise, Bones will hypo the lives out of us. And Y/N adding to the party is not going to be beneficial.”

He gripped my hand and lead the way, running through the corridors of our beloved ship.

And I didn’t mind being by his side one bit.

#leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #spock #jim kirk #james t kirk #tos #star trek #st:tos #nyota uhura #uhura #bones x reader #implied spirk #jim x spock

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the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter VII

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

Last week I uploaded a new chapter nearly daily; unhappily from now on, I will take a little longer. I had a week of holidays, and I could permit myself to write every day. Despite that, I'll make my best effort to upload periodically! Thank you for your comprehension and support!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VIII coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 040

TW: None!

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"(Y/n)?!"

"Anibal!"-The named one exclaimed.

Kurapika was extremely disoriented. Just a few instants before; they were surrounded by armed men, cornered, threatened, and ambushed. Aspiring to analyze the changes affecting his situation, he surveyed his surroundings. Except the people cornering them were just as baffled. He turned to (Y/n), desiring to have an explanation or at slightest a confirmation that everything was going for the best. Who turned to see him with their smile and a relieved look on their eyes. The unique remaining option was to trust (Y/n).

"What are you doing, band of lunatics?! Are you out of your mind?"-The fat man started to scold again.

"Boss, I-"The fusty and horribly dressed man got cut.

"But what are you waiting for? For the pigs to fly? Lower your weapons already and get away from them!"-He raged anew-"Are you blind? Don't they see that they are peers of mine?"

"Mr. Anibal! Hello!"-(Y/n) attempted to obtain the man's attention with a friendly greeting.

"Mx. (Y/n), what are you doing here. Why the hell do my workers have you like this? Since when do you come to places like these?"- It was clear to Kurapika that the man and his lover knew each other. They didn't appear to have a tense relationship. Leastwise they were out of peril.

"We were calmly purchasing when we were interrupted in a terribly rude way."-they accused feigning outrage, or at the minimum, Kurapika knew they were pretending.-"One should not approach clients this manner!"-next they turned to the man named Richard, who was leaning against the wall in fear-"I'm so sorry Richard, I'm not saying that for you, you've always been very courteous to me."- that was a sincere regret, they felt bad that the man might feel insulted by what was just said.

While (Y/n) approached Kurapika to, after all this time, give an account, the bearded man also whispered something to his chief.

"Kurapika, everything will be fine; I know this man! I'm their doctor. I am convinced that they would allow us to leave."-Their explanation was vague. However, Kurapika recognized that the situation did not allow for details. The priority was to reach somewhere safe.

"(Y/n)."- A guttural voice called their names.

"Eh, yes?"-Their tone was more uncertain. Kurapika didn't like that.

"I can't let you go that easy. You are the one who attacked one of my dealers and stole merchandise."-Even if the nearly bald person didn't have a threatening tone, it was rather grave.

Kurapika couldn't allow it to escalate anymore. He summoned his chains and prepared to attack. (Y/n) discerned that and had to stop it.

"Kurapika, I implore you. I know how to mend this difficulty. I warrant you I will explain everything to you."-they wept lightly touching one of his hands.

He understood that contact occurred to be crucial to (Y/n); losing it would be grave. He was full of pressure. It was clear that losing so much charge of the circumstances filled him with uncertainty. In contrast, he did not want a scarcity of trust in (Y/n) to disserve them. He lowered his hand. (Y/n) nodded with gratitude and smiled at him anew.

"Understandable. Let me speak to Mr. Rafael, please."-they requested- "I presume he will want to resolve this matter personally. It is doubtful that he would be pleased that something occurred to his doctor."-they approached, a clear threat despite the calm and friendly tone.

The fat man took a cell phone out of one of the pockets of his pants, dialed a number, put the speaker, and placed the phone on the table. Following a few seconds, a squeaky, choppy male voice was heard. Kurapika couldn't identify what was being said, as it was in a language he didn't understand.

"Mr. Rafael, Hello, it's (Y/n)."-they greeted in a much more certain tone.

"Hi, Mx. (Y/n)! A pleasure to talk to you. With what can I help you?"-the squeaky voice answered as if the person was talking to an old friend of his.

"Yes, Mr. Rafael. Your workers attacked me and my associates, without us even inciting them. Luckily your brother was present. There is a subject I require to discuss with you, please."-(Y/n) began to explain.

"An absurd action. I did not give the order to attack you at any time."-Was what the alleged "Rafael" responded.

The tension of the men around them increased. By how he speaks, he was the leader of the presents. And considering the reciprocities (Y/n) had with him, what they had done for sure was serious-

"I'm sure of it, Mr. Rafael. It seems to me your brother did."-their tone was modest in the place of angry. It was an "innocent" accusation.

They adopted a low profile, even more considering the status of power and advantage they possessed was brought to light.

"Have you gone crazy, Anibal? Explain yourself"-

"They are the ones who stole the merchandise."-the fat man gulped trying to justify himself.

"It is true."- they added.

Kurapika's stress and fear increased again. "What were they doing? They could perfectly deny everything. It is ill-considered to confess!" doubts echoed in his mind. He was preparing to attack again.

"Except, you know me, I am a good and honorable person."-they continued- "I was preparing to rightly buy from one of your vendors. Still, when I arrived, he threatened me and doubled the agreed price. It was extortion so he could keep the excess money."- their timbre turned into indignation.- "You understand how shameful betrayals are. I am persuaded you will validate my reasons."- they finalized.

"What did you steal to get to this?"-Every time the squeaky voice directed to (Y/n), he was calm.

"Eyes."-the fat man rushed to respond.

"How many?"- was the single ask the piping voice made

"A pair."-(Y/n) rejoined with their iconic smile. Lastly applying a fearless voice.

"Just a pair? Are you telling me that my doctor was attacked for a pair of eyes?"-the person in the other line scoffed.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Rafael."-All the cards were in (Y/n)'s favor.

"I'm so sorry, Mx. (Y/n). I can't believe my brother treated you like this because of a pair of eyes, even more considering how much you had helped my family."-I had already finished-" One pair of eyes is not enough reason for that rudeness. Don't worry, you can leave in peace."- Kurapika realized that the speeches of (Y/n) had been carefully chosen to arrive at that result. They knew the person strongly and knew how to manage him.

"I knew you would understand, is your mother doing fine?"-they asked gracefully as if everything that had just arrived didn't have any weight.

"Perfectly, thank you."-he answered.

"Me alegro, saludela de mi parte, por favor. Tenga buen día. (I'm glad, tell her I say hi, please. Have a nice day)"- (Y/n) concluded in the same language the voice used at the beginning of the call.

The person on the other end of the line hung up. The group of armed men looked at each other, knowing that what the future held would not be pleasing.

"As this was a misunderstanding, we withdrew."- (Y/n) got up from their chair, walked over to the old man named Richard, and gave him some money-"I deeply apologize for this error, Richard, this is for you to arrange your door."-They were playing with the patience of the rest.

Did they need to have a hint of humor at that precise time? Kurapika was exhausted and stressed out of his mind; he was standing at the entrance waiting. He just wanted to leave the place for good.

"Have a good afternoon, gentlemen!"-they mocked, following Kurapika out of the store.

They entered the car, Kurapika in the passenger's seat, and (Y/n) placed the scarlet eyes safely on the back seats to eventually join him in front.

"I excuse Kurapika. I am aware this affected you greatly. As I promised, I will clarify the matter."-they sighed with an apologetic smile.

Kurapika was still irritated, and his head ached. Although, as much as he was bothered not being in control of conditions and working beside someone extra could be tedious at times, he was grateful. He could not dispute that his partner was cunning and sneaky. They knew what they were doing, and if it weren't for them, they wouldn't have the scarlet eyes at that moment; and they would probably have cuts provoked by shattered glass. He was relieved that everything ended well.

"Mr. Rafael is the head of a mafia that operates on the black market. They are mainly concerned with obtaining and trafficking merchandise."-they put their hands together. resting them on their lap, they had their gaze focused on them as they explained.-"He comes from another country and he brought his family with him, whom he entrusted to positions in the mafia. Among them was his mother, who does not speak English. The lady contracted Bell's Palsy disorder. Reasonably, being wanted personages, going to the hospital was threatening. And I provided her the treatment."-They turned to view him, making gestures with their hands as they continued to unfold.-"I mean, I could do it without raising misgivings. It is not unusual for psychiatrists to examine patients at their residencies! And psychiatrists are neurologists specialized in behavior and mental disorders! Plus, I speak Spanish as well!"-they mumbled, feeling responsible for all the trouble they just experienced.

"It's alright. I understand. Having a high-ranking person in the framework on your side is beneficial to retrieve elements of your clan. However, why didn't you told me?"-he tried not to trouble. The reasons were legitimate after all.

"I'm not sure."-they lowered their gaze again.-"I never imagined that something like this would appear. I was shallow, sorry. Thank you for understanding and trusting me, they are valuable connections for my objective."

It was unpleasant for Kurapika to be upset with (Y / n). He didn't want to be upset.

"You're sneakier than you seem."-He offered them a sweet smile.

They laughed, he loved that laughter. He was undeniably ready to fight anyone who said their precious (Y/n)'s laugh was ugly.

"I also wasn't aware you spoke Spanish."-the blonde continued to tease.

"Well, Unilium lived in a place where the habitants speak Spanish. We also had our languages, so we spoke both."-they smiled-"I also like languages, they're amusing!"

There were so several details that Kurapika still didn't know about them. Still, he was certain he desired to discover them.

"You are so strange (Y/n). But that's maybe why I love you."

They couldn't help but give a soft and loving smile.-"I love you the most."

#kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika x reader #hxh scenarios #hxh x reader #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika kurta #hunter x hunter #kurapika #kurapika imagine

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inspired-by-the-music · 3 years

Text

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Warning: This chapter contains themes of bullying, especially in regard to one’s appearance.

Chapter 4: The Boy Who Couldn’t Give More

Lei’s POV

When I turned twelve, I was officially cast as an S.M. trainee. For many reasons, I would rather not describe every trial and hardship. I don’t want to tell you every high and low, so I will just tell you about what stands out as the worst and (somehow) the best day of training.

I’m sorry if you think this approach isn’t entirely honest. There are just some things that I would rather not remember. Plus, I worry that if I detail everything that ever troubled me, you won’t be able to understand that I was, in my own way, happy. I hope you understand me. I hope you believe that I am happy— that I have always been as happy as I can be.

I was probably naïve to believe that I would find a real friend in the training rooms full of people closer to my age. Environments like the one in which idols are trained aren’t exactly conducive to healthy relationships, if you know what I mean. Everything was a competition. Everybody wanted to be the best dancer, the best singer, the best rapper, the best visual.

Everybody except Mark Lee, who was content with being his best. I would never tell him this because he would probably get the wrong idea, but I admired him first. It was never a crush. I just wanted to possess his passion, his optimism, his ability to smile through every challenge.

Because of Super Junior’s influence, I didn’t struggle with dancing, singing, and rapping as much as some of the others. By no means was I perfect or anything. My pronunciations were always weird because of my accent and my braces. I could probably count on one hand how many times an instructor praised me. Talent-wise, I was average. I could have passed on to my debut under everyone’s radar if I didn’t look so different.

Even though I was among the youngest trainees, I towered over the other girls. While they were petite, I was naturally muscular, and my dedication to taekwondo only added definition to those muscles. My hair, although long and dark like everyone else’s, fell in tangled curls over my shoulders. While my braces were closing the gap in my front teeth little by little, my teeth were still way too big for my face. At age twelve, the only beauty standards I met were credited to my cartoonish eyes and pale skin.

Anyway, there was never a moment for as long that I can remember that I didn’t feel different because of my appearance. At twelve years old, I think the last thing anybody wants to do is stand out— especially for looking the wrong way. It was uncomfortable enough when I cursed myself for looking the way I did; it was worse when others noticed the differences and started to point them out.

I guess I always knew that I wasn’t popular. Because most of the girls were older than me— and none of them were quite as inviting as Taeyeon or Amber— I didn’t quite know how to befriend them. Heeding Sehun’s advice, I didn’t talk to the boys under any circumstances. Everybody probably thought that I was mute or that I didn’t understand the language well enough to speak.

Still, even though I didn’t have any delusions about my popularity, I wasn’t quite prepared to hear what they— the girls— thought of me.

I looked like a chipmunk. I was a giant. My hair looked like a bush. My pale skin made me look like a vampire— and apparently not in a cool way. I was fat.

That last one always bothered me because in all my years of self-criticizing, I never once thought I was fat. Yeah, my cheeks were full and I wasn’t crazy about looking like a super tall baby because of that, but my body— I wasn’t overweight. And even if I had been, why should that warrant commentary from people who never bothered to say a word to my face?

The most insulting part was that the girls would drop their voices just slightly into half-whispers. They would speak Korean quickly, obviously assuming that I didn’t know the language, assuming that I hadn’t lived in the same country as them for most of my life.

Trying to follow Sehun’s advice, I reminded myself that some people wouldn’t like me. I told myself that was okay. I fixed my eyes on the shiny wooden floor and kept them there through every practice. Just keep your eyes down, I told myself, and they will stop staring.

Even when they kept staring, I knew that I wouldn’t stand up to those girls. How could I have argued when I agreed that (visually, at least) I was as far from perfect as an idol could be? I think that if I could have disagreed with them, even internally, their voices wouldn’t have followed me.

Mark didn’t want to argue with them either, but he must have heard them too. Every day that we had co-ed training, he would sit next to me and, between stretches, say, “You’re beautiful, Lei.”

At first, I eyed him cautiously, unsure of what to do with the attention. Nobody who wasn’t Mom or Super Junior or any of those “safe” people had ever called me beautiful before Mark did.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Mark. There was always something endearing about the obvious fact that he couldn't have lied even if he wanted to. The issue was just— what did it matter if Mark thought I was beautiful if I couldn’t smile at my reflection? What good were Mark’s compliments when his voice didn’t follow me into the dark?

Sehun told me that it doesn’t matter if people dislike me. During trainee days, I learned that it didn’t matter if people liked me either. Maybe that’s toxic. Maybe it’s untrue. But it’s what I believed for years.

The mean girls’ voices followed me because they spoke my insecurities. If I could have learned to admire myself, then Mark’s voice would have followed me. Even then, at twelve years old, it was clear that Mark’s admiration was no substitute for self-love, so — please don’t judge me too harshly for this— I didn’t want him to look at me with little hearts in his eyes. His feelings served no purpose, and, to my absolute horror, everybody noticed how Mark looked at me.

Everybody noticed that we spoke exclusively in English. Everybody who couldn’t understand us misinterpreted our very casual friendship as a young budding romance— even our dance instructor, who warned us once when we were partnered together, “Be mindful never to meet each other’s eyes while performing for an audience. Be mindful!”

Mark and I flinched as we heard for the first time, “You don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted because she was distracted by romance!”

No, I decided then as the instructor looked solely at me, I didn’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted.

Squirming under scrutiny whenever I stood too close to Mark, I understood why Sehun warned me to stay away from boys. It doesn’t matter what your intentions are; people see only what they want to see or whatever will justify their hatred. That’s another lesson I learned as a trainee.

Anyhow, I think I was doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact that I was absolutely miserable behind a carefully crafted blank stare until the day I overheard one of the girls saying, “You know, she’s only becoming an idol because her mom is a manager!”

That was true enough that, even if I had the nerve to bicker back, I couldn’t have truthfully argued. I lowered my head so I wouldn’t catch my blush in the mirrored wall.

I hadn’t even lowered my backpack before another girl said, “Yeah. I bet she’ll get to debut before all of us because—” She glanced over to see if I was paying attention. Satisfied when I broke our eye contact to stare down at my sneakers, she continued, “her Mom has been sleeping with Heechul for years. Who knows how many executives rely on her for favors?”

When I looked up from my feet, I saw red. Before I even processed the words, I had grabbed the girl around her shoulder, fingers digging small bruises into her bare skin exposed under her tank top, and growled, “Who are you talking about?” as if I didn’t know.

Even if she hadn’t been trembling like a leaf as she stared up at me, too terrified to speak, I wouldn’t have let her answer. “Just go back to calling me chipmunk cheeks or bush head or vampire or fatty or Mark lover or whatever makes you feel clever and better than me.” My entire body flushed, and I hoped that I was burning her with my fingertips. “Don’t say another word about my mom ever again, or I’ll—”

I didn’t even get to threaten to knock her crooked teeth down her throat. Johnny, who was my senior by about four years, carefully pried me off of the girl, tutting, “Ladies, ladies, isn’t training challenging enough without all this fighting?”

It was.

“Can’t we all be friends?”

No. I never could have been friends with those girls, and I said so plainly, snatching my hands out of Johnny’s gentle grasp to cross my arms over my chest. You’ll find that I can hold a grudge like no other. I’m not saying that’s a good thing; it’s just a fact.

“We don’t want to be your friend either,” the girl spat at me. “We don’t want anything to do with the daughter of a glorified hooker! Just look at you.” Her glare trailed from my head down to my toes. “You’re wild. I don’t wonder where you got it from, but at least your Mom knows how to hide—”

Had Johnny not been standing there as an insurmountable barrier, I would have punched that girl, and I probably would have been kicked out of the agency, and my behavior would have reflected poorly on Mom. Fortunately, while I was too furious to think clearly, Johnny was there to wrap me in an almost suffocating hug, trusting that I wouldn’t strike him in my rage.

“Just take the day off,” he urged quietly. “I’ll tell the trainers you got sick, and—”

I started to shake my head and insist on peacefully standing my ground before a sharp pang of nauseated hunger pierced through my stomach. Owing to my lack of appetite those days, I hadn’t eaten much for dinner the night before, and I had woken up too late to eat breakfast that morning.

Johnny promised, “I’ll take care of these girls. Just go and take some time to yourself, please.”

When he wiped my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, I realized that I was crying. I ran out of the room purely to escape the embarrassment of having been reduced to scalding tears by something so stupid in front of so many other trainees. It was a failed attempt; embarrassment followed me into the hallway.

Eager to try again to make me feel better, Mark chased after me, calling my name. “Are you okay?”

As I slumped down at the table by the vending machine, I thought the answer was obvious. Still, I took the chance to lie. “Yes.” When I brought a hand up to touch my cheek, I was relieved to find that I wasn’t crying anymore.

I had an epiphany: even if I’m not strong, I can pretend to be. Clenching my jaw, forcing my hands into fists under the table, I said, “You should go to practice, Mark, and you should stay away from me.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because,” I forced myself to look away from his pained expression, “you don’t want people like those girls to talk about you. They’ll bully you if you keep being nice to me.”

“I don’t care.” Mark stood across from me, but he wouldn’t take a seat. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

I said, “Well I care.” I really did. I didn’t want to put the target on Mark’s back. “I don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted,” I swore without knowing her whole story.

Mark scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I just know that I like you, and I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t to please anybody.”

Too annoyed by Mark’s stubborn resolve to like me without knowing me to feel flattered, I kind of rolled my eyes.

“Does that mean you don’t like me that way too?” Mark wheezed, and I understood that he had a crush on me. On some level, I guess I had always known, but I tried to ignore it because I didn’t want to hurt him.

No, I didn’t like Mark like that, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him— not when he looked so sad. Thinking of Sehun (as usual), I mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to like anyone like that.”

Slowly, Mark nodded, and I think he understood that I would never return his feelings. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I’ll just keep liking you anyway.” Without waiting for me to reply that I didn’t think feelings worked that way— I didn’t have to give him permission to like me— he bowed and ran back to practice, carrying most of the burden of his unrequited feelings.

I was sitting there, feeling small because I had given in to my temper, feeling cruel and cold because I rejected Mark’s pure infatuation, when Sehun sat across from me. I didn’t meet his eyes as he laid his head down on the table.

He asked, “What’s up with your face?”

For some reason, that question set my eyes watering again. I tried to wipe the tears before he could notice, but nothing got past Sehun. His eyebrows twitched. “What’s wrong, Lei?”

My chin dimpled as I lied, “I’m just hungry.” Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. My stomach growled loudly enough for him and everyone in the building to hear.

Perhaps eager to believe that I wasn’t troubled by anything too serious, Sehun nodded. “That’s nothing to cry about.”

I watched him spring from his seat and pound a fist against the side of the vending machine. A pack of chocolates fell out without payment. “Here you go.” He tossed the candy before me. When I only stared at it, he said, “If that’s not enough, and if you’re not busy, I was about to go to McDonald’s. You can come if you want.”

That must have been the first time that I didn’t burn to be in Sehun’s company. I didn’t exactly want him to rush to leave, but I also didn’t want him to stand there looking at me that way— like I was falling apart. It’s impossible to please me when I’m upset. I frown if you try to talk to me about my feelings, and I frown more if you try to act like everything is okay.

More than anything, I wanted to be alone in my room where nobody could see my flaws. I couldn’t even console myself with the thought that these feelings would pass within a few years by the time I debuted because it was starting to sink into my mind: the realization that every day for the rest of my life, people would try to tear me apart with their eyes. They would try to weigh me down and drown me with their expectations. There wasn’t any way to eradicate that overwhelming sense of dread because it was rooted too deeply in reality.

I would just have to try to silence it— the dawning knowledge that I would always be more human (a wounded one, at that) than idol— until Mom found me at the table by the vending machine as she always did at the end of long days. Then, I would be too afraid to say anything on the ride home. And then, not too long after we walked through the door, she would probably fall asleep on the couch again, and I wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell her about the unnamed monster tearing me apart even if I miraculously found the courage to string words together. I would just turn the television off, drop the remote on the coffee table, run upstairs to my room, and tuck my radio into bed so I could fall into restless sleep while listening to SHINee because they were real idols. I would comfort myself by imagining that my voice could become for others what Onew’s, Jonghyun’s, Key’s, Minho’s, and Taemin’s— especially Taemin’s— were for me: inspiration and healing.

I wouldn’t have wanted to repeat those girls’ insults to Mom anyway. Imagining her disappointment if I confessed to almost punching someone, I sank. It was best to just keep biting my tongue. I would get used to the taste of blood, and soon the pain would scar and numb.

Looking back, I can see that I kept too much to myself. I went through too many trials alone because I was determined to become strong and self-sufficient even if that meant being forged by fire. In some ways, now I think that strength is a little overrated. Maybe I could have been happier— maybe my shoulders wouldn't have felt so heavy had I talked to Mom or Heechul or Yesung or Donghae or anyone. But I couldn’t. I just couldn't.

Once upon a time, I prided myself on my honesty, but it’s easy to be honest when your feelings are simple. It’s easy to be honest when you feel the right things— happy when you’re supposed to be happy, excited when you’re supposed to be excited, sad only when you’re supposed to be sad. It was too hard to shake the fear of being a burden. I never wanted to be a burden.

Despite deciding to carry my own weight, I wasn’t strong enough. That's why I dropped pieces of myself left and right to become something like the blank canvas my instructors wanted.

Sehun broke through my spiraling thoughts with the promise, “I won’t make you talk about it. I just—” he gnawed on his bottom lip— “I’ll feel like trash if I leave you here alone when you’re hurt.”

Sehun rarely talked about feelings first. His shoulders were tense; the muscles along his jaw were protruding. Obviously, he was making himself uncomfortable in an attempt to console me. Half numb with shock, moved by his concern, I nodded and (after grabbing the candy) followed him outside where we boarded the bus.

This is a little embarrassing to admit following my promise to work through my feelings alone: our bus wasn’t even five minutes down the road before I blurted, “I almost punched somebody today.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but he tried to hide his surprise and/or disapproval behind his natural stoic expression. Taking the candy from my hand, he opened the box, popped a colored chocolate into his mouth, and asked, “Why?”

“A girl called my mom a hooker.” I tried to replicate Sehun’s calm, even tone.

Sehun choked, and I felt somewhat vindicated in my rage when his pale face flushed crimson.

“I tried to be good. I tried to be a proper lady,” I promised. “I tried to be strong like you said. Remember my tenth birthday, when you explained that some people are just gonna dislike me, and I can’t shed tears for everyone?”

“Yeah.” Sehun nodded once he noticed that I was looking to him for a response. He returned the candy to me. “I remember.”

“So I tried not to shed tears when they made fun of my hair, my teeth, my skin, and my weight. I told myself that even if they’re right—”

Sehun interrupted to say, “They’re not,” in a tone so stern and authoritative that I never could have argued back.

I nodded, cheeks burning pink. “Well, even if they were, and I’m not saying that I believe them,” I added when Sehun cut his dark eyes at me— “I told myself that being pretty isn’t that important anyway.”

“It’s not,” Sehun agreed instantly. “Being pretty on the outside isn’t important at all.”

Without thinking, I grumbled, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the most handsome person on the planet.” I didn’t care that he gave me that warning glare. I was telling the truth, not flirting. Heart pounding, I maintained, “It’s easy to say that beauty doesn’t matter when you’re beautiful.”

Sehun frowned at me. “I didn’t say that beauty doesn’t matter. I said that being pretty on the outside isn’t important at all, and I’m right. Superficial beauty is overrated, and nothing as subjective as the words ‘pretty’ and ‘handsome’ can ever define a person.” Turning his gaze out the window, he concluded, “Or, at least, they shouldn't. Those words are too small.”

It occurred to me that Sehun was right. I was in danger of becoming the kind of person who couldn’t look past my reflection long enough to find anything worthwhile inside. Shame washed over me, and hot tears spilled onto my hands, which formed fists around the candy box.

“Please don’t be disappointed in me, Sehun. I promise that I’ll work harder to believe what you say.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I swear that I never would have tried to fight about anybody’s opinions about my appearance. I’m not that shallow. It’s just— they talked about my mom, and she—” my voice wavered— “she’s everything to me. If my whole world was just one person, it would be her. She— you know, there aren’t many people who only deserve compliments, but she’s one of them.”

It didn’t matter that those girls were probably too cowardly to ever talk about Mom where she, Super Junior, or any of the many idols who loved her could hear. They had no right to insult Mom when she worked to the point of exhaustion, when she greeted everybody with her sparkling smile, when she treated everybody with kindness, when she was the most beautiful person in the world— inside and out. They had no right to ridicule her when they wanted to hurt me.

“I know,” Sehun said softly.

When I looked up at him, he was looking down at me, eyebrows knit together in anger or concern, and for half a second, I thought he was mad at me. My stomach sank until he swore, “I’m not disappointed in you, Lei. I told you not to care what people say, and I also told you not to be a pushover. I’m—” He wrestled with his words before deciding, “I’m proud of you. Not just for following my advice, but for working so hard to become an idol. I know it’s not easy.”

He raised his hand, and I held my breath because I thought he was going to hug me, but his hand stopped short and landed atop my head. He patted my hair twice. “Maybe just— um— try to avoid fist fights. It won’t be good for anybody if I have to get involved.”

At first, when Sehun retracted his hand, his protective anger was real and frightening. It lit a fire in his eyes. But then he made a spectacle of popping his knuckles, and we broke into a fit of laughter that lasted so long that we missed our stop.

It wasn’t often that I heard Sehun’s laugh. It sounded more youthful and golden than you can probably imagine. Still, as happy as I felt even with our mistake, I apologized as I finally stuffed a piece of chocolate into my mouth. “I’m sorry we missed the stop.”

“Don’t sweat small stuff like that,” Sehun instructed, shrugging. Moments later, he said, “I’m sorry too.”

I cocked my head to the side and wondered aloud, “For what?” but Sehun didn’t respond with words. He gave me this look that I had never seen before— one that held about a thousand foreign words that I wanted desperately to understand, but my conscience whispered that it was wrong to ask for a translation.

It seemed that Sehun was sorry for a lot, but I couldn’t understand why. From the day we met, he had been an unlikely sort of friend— a protector— and all crushes aside, I truly loved who he was in my life. Beyond the childish infatuation that made my heart race and painted my pale cheeks pink, there was a warm love that shaped every memory of him— a love that shaped aspects of my own character.

It didn’t matter that he would never look at me the way I looked at him; maybe no two people ever look at each other in the same light anyway. He didn’t have to love me or stay by my side as an almost imaginary Prince Charming. I was just grateful that we crossed paths, even if the way we met determined that he would always see me as a gap-toothed nine-year-old. I was beyond happy to sit beside him for a moment where I could admire him up close. I was content, knowing that I would always remember my first crush as a good person.

Of course, I didn’t tell Sehun anything like that. He didn’t appreciate that sort of sentiment. While talking to Mark, I decided that I would never date because I couldn't stand the whispers or the stares. Looking at Sehun, though, I knew that I would forget that decision in an instant if ever we woke up one day (when I was older, of course) and Sehun wanted to love me.

If that day should come, I wouldn’t notice any stare because I would be too busy admiring his every feature. I wouldn’t hear any whisper because I would be too busy listening to his every word.

For that moment, however, I was fulfilled just by smiling at him because I believed that feelings don’t have to be expressed with words to be real. Feelings don’t have to be reciprocated to be real. Sehun didn’t have to give me permission to love him; I always had, and I always would, and nothing could change that.

“I’m about to say something very mushy,” Sehun grimaced, “and I have a feeling that you’re really gonna like it, so write it down or record it in your memory because I won’t repeat myself no matter how many times you beg.”

Holding my nose up in the air, I asserted, “I never beg.” Sehun laughed, and my heart swelled, and I prayed with all of my soul that someday somebody with a warm, gentle touch and a kind, bright smile would make his heart swell too.

“You’re like your mom,” he said, meeting my eyes. He didn’t say it as an insult like those girls did. He said it with a faint hint of a smile— the smile that imprinted forever on my heart. “You’re one of the people who only deserve compliments.” Then, as if he couldn’t tell from my unrestrained smile that he had given me the greatest praise imaginable, Sehun turned his gaze back out the window and mumbled, “I’m really sorry that I can’t give you more.”

14 notes · View notes

switchblademouse · 3 years

Text

All you could do was laugh.

What other response could you have after seeing death run rampant through your world? The old lady buried one morning when the sun felt harsh and new, then her tiny grandchild ready to be buried soon before the sun set heavy and ripe that very same day. Watching as the people took over the streets howling right in the open, drowning out everything else in their grief. Then watching as those same people burnt down the walls of all the lives around them, smashed the whole world to rubble under the stampede of thousands of charging feet, when all that unanswered grief of theirs turned into righteous rage.

What more was there to do than sit back and laugh at them?

I had warned them. As had many others before me, and after me. We were silenced, all of us. Told we were being too negative for their comfort. Told we shouldn't tell them of the open dangers they faced, unless we gave them the choice to run from such uncomfortable topics beforehand. We, the ones who could see the dangers, had been screaming our warnings at these people for years. We who had already been dying had been begging this blind public for that justice they loved dearly for so very long now. Our suffering had not mattered to these people who thought of themselves as Good People. Where was all of that elitist high ground they once waved above us beggars? Above those of us who had all been denied the basics of human life; and yet we all ended up watching them crumble at our feet for so much less than we had already survived.

We could do nothing but laugh. Throw our heads back and shake from the gasping breathing that came with the horrid and hysterical laughter of those who had been pushed too far for too long. We the people who have only just realized that the others who put us there always knew that our suffering was the worst possible thing anyone could live through. Those awful Good People had let us all suffer while knowing these things; simply because they couldn't care less to act on helping others if they couldn't get something for themselves out of it. Why did such people still dare call themselves "good" to our faces?

We laugh as they fall at our feet, suffering too, in all the ways they looked away from dismissively when that suffering was in our lives once.

We laugh as they bleed out in front of us, blood pooling in a dark river that twists with whirpools of tears, and the many empty, begging promises of desperate human beings trying to avoid the consequences of their own misdeeds brought to their feet.

We laugh as they call us evil, for those moments are the only truly humorous times we still have in our lives, after all this madness.

Because they don't realize they lost that right to feel morally superior to me so very long ago.

We no longer see a human being in our own reflection these days.

We no longer want to.

For all those humans we have seen walking through our life are not what we wish to ever see ourselves become.

The cruel actions those humans who call themselves good take when they simply feel justified in destroying everything they find distasteful are not those we seek to emulate.

So, we will destroy every last human being, and the destructive despair they drag around them like the chaotic wake behind a great storm.

I am perfectly fine being the grinning villain these days.

For if such beings as humans call me evil, then I must be doing so very well as a person.

Isn't that funny?

Just absolutely hilarious?

I see humans, but no humanity.

All you can do is laugh.

[Just a Random Writer in the Electronic Void. Don't mind me. I just got bored. Sorry about the rough copy /Edit: Went back and edited for spelling and grammar because it bugged me, no longer a rough copy/. Not sorry about the chills. Villains are such an interesting topic. Any of us could be one to somebody else. Enjoy this one, or don't. Not exactly my best work after all. Guess I should just laugh it off, huh?]

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End Copypasta

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This right here is copypasta from my YouTube commentary. The video was a wonderful VillainCore playlist, titled "i see humans but no humanity: a villain playlist", posted by username "cupid". (Quote marks are mine. I sincerely apologize for not linking it here. I like giving credit to the creators, but I have no clue how to link that through my phone app here. Sorry!)

I designed this for the authors notes to be at the end, to increase the impact of the writing. In commentary style story posts, putting the authors note at the top deters people from reading by breaking that story immersion. If you put those authors notes at the end of the comment-story you are writing? You get more readership, because the hook for your story can do it's job properly. That's an important tip I recommend you keep in mind if you post stories in places like commentary or reply sections. Just make sure your hook strikes well!

Anyway? Because this was designed for that hook to hit first? I do apologize for having to drop my copypasta without context. It is what it is.

Before I'm done? I would like to make another more personal apology. Someone accused me of "humble-bragging" after the original note to this. I had no idea what that meant. I looked it up. Honestly? I was appalled that they thought that, and confused. When I brag I'm not subtle about it! I also wasn't sure why they would think anyone would over just what I wrote there. I asked some friends. Turns out? My writing is better than I thought it was. I know I'm good, but I didn't think a quick short story like this, done in an hour could be well written for me. I was corrected on something. My standards for excellence were significantly higher for myself than they were for my readers. So, what I legitimately thought wasn't good enough, everyone else thought was me humble-bragging.

I felt the need to apologize for this. I didn't want to alter my original post, for personal reasons. But I want to apologize now, before anyone says I'm doing that. I wasn't, but I'm still struggling to wrap my head around the fact that I'm not just a good writer. I'm a writer who is apparently, on occasion, so good at what they do that they make people think I must be full of crap if I say I don't believe I did well.

Do you know how hard that is to accept?! I'm freaking out. My image of myself does NOT match with that! Even if I was confident about being a good writer, this is still a shock. I'm working on it. It's just taking me a while.

So, on top of my writing tip today?

Take this to heart.

Just because you think you aren't good enough yet, doesn't mean you aren't great already.

Your lackluster effort, just might be a high quality piece in others eyes.

Look at your stuff through some of your biggest supporters eyes at some point.

It could be the best thing you will ever do for your self-confidence.

I hope you all have a weird and wonderful day from here.

~ Tapestry

#original prose #writerslife #story blurb #writing practice #villaincore #chills #writing tips #life advice #life tips #writing techniques #writers on tumblr

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dakotacrisis · 5 years

Text

Transferred (2)

I am back with the salt!

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After explaining what had happened in the classroom, the principal gave Marinette three days detention. If Lila was there she probably would have talked Mr. Damocles into a full blown week of detention. Why stop there? Lila had already dragged her down far enough that she probably could have gotten Marinette suspended.

Mr. Damocles dismissed Marinette back to class. She wasn’t ready to head back into the belly of the beast yet and made a detour for the locker room. She laid back on one of the benches and stared at the ceiling.

“Marinette?” Tikki popped out of her purse, “Do you want me to pull up your ‘Feel Better’ playlist?”

“No. Thanks though, Tikki.” she held the kwami close, “I just need some time to breathe.”

“Why don’t you say something? What is happening to you can’t be justified by any means.”

“It’ll just be my word against Lila’s. I may be the one with the deeper history with my classmates but she knows how to turn the situation around to look like the victim. She’s like a more manipulative Chloe. Everyone knows Chloe is full of it so they aren’t taken in. With Lila though they only know what she’s shown them. What she’s shown them reflects back on me like a funhouse mirror.”

“Marinette? You in here?” Tikki disappeared back into Marinette’s purse. Adrien walked into the locker room. “There you are, I got worried when you didn’t come back to class earlier.”

“I’m fine,” Marinette sat up, “Lila got to me is all.”

“I saw that.” He sat down next to her, “I’ve seen you get mad before but to rush her like that…”

“That’s not how I am. Even at my angriest I’ve never resorted to violence as a means to vent my rage. It’s like she’s getting in my head. Pushing all my buttons in the perfect way so I explode.”

“It won’t be like this forever. The truth will come out and then she won’t have a leg to stand on.”

“How much longer though? I can’t keep going on like this, Adrien.”

“I can’t say. But you’re strong, stronger than all of us. Our everyday Ladybug, remember?” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “No matter how much she tries to distort the truth you’ll always have me in your corner.”

Marinette’s brain was short circuiting at the contact. She still had enough sense about her to listen to what Adrien was saying though. “Thanks, Adrien.”

They walked back to class and Adrien politely nudged Nino back to the desk with Alya. Everyone else was staring at Marinette like a fairy tale villain. Truly that stunt with Lila had tilted the scales in her favor. Adrien had enough foresight to keep her shielded from the worst of it by keeping her close. Her own shining knight.

Adrien even walked her home to make sure no one accosted her.

She’s strong. She can be strong. Even when she’s not Ladybug she can do anything. No weakness. No sadness. She can’t fall prey to Lila’s attacks. She won’t!

As the days went by Lila’s assault was unending. Every incident was at best inconvenient or at worst horribly damaging to her psyche and/or reputation. Marinette kept a brave face and didn’t let it break until she was alone. The process of holding everything in was grating on her already shot nerves. If things didn’t get better soon Marinette wasn’t sure how long she was going to last.

Another day dawned and Marinette gathered her courage as she walked into the school building. “Marinette!” Rose ran up to her, “Look at what a fan of Kitty Section made us?”

Marinette took the little pencil topper out of Rose’s hand. Each one was meant to look like a little chibi of each member in their band gear. “These are adorable, Rose! Kitty Section has really taken off since that tv concert, huh?”

“It is really exciting.” Juleka smiled.

“Excuse me ladies,” Max walked up to the group, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a travel charger anywhere have you?”

“No. Did you lose yours?” Marinette asked.

“It was in my locker but now it’s gone.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it.” The girls promised and they all went to class.

It was a shame that Max had lost his charger. Maybe it was just a boy thing. Nino’s headphones went missing yesterday too.

The next day Mylene was in mourning since she couldn’t find her favorite headband. It was a birthday present from Ivan and it had disappeared without a trace. Even the Kitty Section pencil toppers Rose and Juleka had been showing off to their classmates had vanished. There was no way this could be a coincidence. There was a thief among them. Marinette’s immediate hunch was one Lila Rossi but she didn’t say anything. How could she? She didn’t have any proof outside of her distrust of the girl.

“No! No! No!” Lila was in her seat at the back of the class looking frantic as she deposited the contents of her bag out on the desk.

“Something wrong, Lila?” Alya was the first to ask.

“My phone is gone!” Lila sniffled, “I need it on me at all times in case of emergencies. I’m one of Clara Nightingale’s emergency contacts. If she gets hurt I’ll have no way of knowing!”

Marinette scoffed. An emergency contact to Clara Nightingale? Marinette was sure Lila had never so much had been in the same room as Clara let alone be good enough friends to be an emergency contact. Just another tall tale.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you find it.” Nino grabbed his phone and dialed Lila’s number.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

All eyes swiveled to where Marinette was sitting. Her bookbag was ringing.

No…

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Hesitantly Marinette reached for her bag and unzipped the front pocket. Sure enough there was Lila’s phone.

How had she managed to sneak her phone in there? It must have been when Marinette went to the bathroom earlier. Stupid! You would think that she would have learned not to leave her belongings alone with that snake slithering about.

“Marinette, why did you take my phone?” Lila stuck out her bottom lip.

“I didn’t take your phone!”

“You do realize that you just pulled it out of your bag, right?” Alya eyed Marinette suspiciously, “Also, you kinda have a track record of palming people’s phones.”

“But I didn’t--Hey!” Kim had grabbed Marinette’s bag. “Give it back!” Marinette reached for it but Kim was too tall.

“If you stole my phone then what if you stole all the recent missing items of our classmates?” Lila had quickly gotten over her ‘shock’ of Marinette’s ‘theft’. “I think it would put us all at ease if we made sure you aren’t the thief in our midst.”

Kim unzipped Marinette’s bag and rummaged around. “Look what we have here.” he pulled out a pair of headphones. “These are yours, aren’t they Nino?”

“Yeah, I put that sticker on them.” Nino took the headphones back. “Marinette?”

“I didn’t--I don’t know how those got in there!” She knew perfectly well how they did. Lila.

Kim handed the bag over to Lila. “Look, the Kitty Section pencil toppers, Mylene’s favorite headband, and Max’s travel charger.”

“No!” She snatched her bag back from and emptied the rest of it. There wasn’t anymore pilfered items but it didn’t matter much now. “I swear to you all, I did not steal any of this! I’m being framed!”

“Who would frame you?”

“Lila! She’s been out to ruin me since she got here! All the pranks, my paper being deleted, the wrong name in the newspaper, the thefts. It’s all been her! You’re all just too blind to see it!”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I will not stand to hear your lies about me. I have done nothing wrong. I offered you friendship time and again and all you’ve ever done is yell at me. What have I ever done to you that I warrant this treatment?”

“Cut the crap, Lila! I don’t care if I’m the only one who can see through you, I will not take the fall for your sabotage again!”

“But I’ve never--”

“Liar! For once in your life tell the truth! You stole all that stuff and then slipped it into my bag so that it would look like I took it. I have to have some faith that everyone will see you for what you truly are. You. Are. A. LIAR!”

“I--I--” Lila bolted out of the room.

“Hey! Get back here!”

“Marinette!” It was Alya that snapped, “Just stop.”

“What?”

“Stop trying to make Lila the bad guy here.”

“She is the bad guy!”

“No. She isn’t.” Alya sighed and walked over to her friend, “You’ve been on edge lately and you’ve been taking out all that frustration on Lila. It isn’t fair. She’s here trying to get an education and make friends like the rest of us and you are resolute in your decision to hate her.”

“Alya, please,” Marinette begged, “Not you too. You’re a journalist. You’ve said it yourself that you have to have all the facts before you can make a concrete judgement. What makes more sense? That I would steal all this stuff and blame Lila because I got caught? Or that Lila, the girl you barely know, is a pathological liar and manipulator that hates me?”

“I don’t want to believe that either of you are a bad person. The facts as they are presented paint a telling picture. One that doesn’t portray you as much of a hero, I’m afraid.”

“Please…” Marinette was losing the will to live. Not Alya too. Please not her best friend.

“I’m sorry, Marinette. But I can’t condone this kind of behaviour. We all know why you really don’t like her and projecting your jealousy onto her just because she likes Adrien isn’t healthy. I think you owe her and everyone else here an apology.”

“Adrien? You think this is still about Adrien?” Marinette felt like she was going manic, “Not everything in my life revolves around him! I hate Lila because she is a liar, a thief, a manipulator, and a life ruiner. She has you all wrapped around her little finger and I can’t take it anymore. I will not stand here and be made the villain when all I’m doing is trying to rid the evil from my life.”

“Then how about you go?” Alix said. Everyone else nodded in silent agreement.

Marinette looked to Alya for something. Some kind of support. But she wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Fine…” Marinette stuffed everything back into her bag, “I don’t want to be a part of a class like this anyways.”

She kept a brave face, her heart hardening as she walked to the principal’s office. They talked for a couple minutes and Mr. Damocles started the paperwork for her transfer. After he told her it was in motion she thanked him and started to leave the school.

On her way out of the school she passed Adrien heading in. “Marinette, hey, where’s the fire?” he stopped her, “You’re crying…”

“I--” She sniffed loudly, “I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Adrien sat her down on the steps, “What happened?”

“Lila happened. What else would it be?” she spat.

Adrien listened patiently as Marinette ranted and blubbered about how Lila had framed her for stealing all the missing items. How she broke down and chewed Lila out. How the class turned on Marinette because of it. Finally she told him about her decision to take their suggestion and leave the school.

“But that is--” Adrien clenched and unclenched his fists, “This isn’t right! You shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll go in there and tell them all the truth right now.”

“Don’t. They’ll just turn on you too.” Marinette muttered into her knees.

“I don’t want you to go though.” Adrien took one of her hands and squeezed it, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you stay? We’ll move to a different class away from Lila.”

“That means so much but if I’m in this school Lila will still find a way. Being around all these people that think I’m the bad one is wreaking havoc on my mind. All it is going to lead to is even more stress and with everything else going on in my life that’s one thing I don’t need right now.”

“Marinette--”

“I can’t--I can’t--” Marinette hiccuped, fresh tears welling in her eyes, “I can’t anymore. I’m not strong--strong enough. I’m sorry,” she wiped at her eyes trying to banish the tears before they could spill, “I--I’m sorry I can’t be stronger. I’m sorry.”

Adrien pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “No. You don’t need to apologize.” He pulled back enough so he could look in her eyes, “Never apologize.”

She hugged him back burying her face into his neck as she pulled together her last shreds of dignity and strength. She never wanted to leave these arms. She was safe here. Accepted. At least one person still believed in her.

All too soon Marinette broke the hug and took a deep breath.

“You um,” she tried to force a smile, “You should head to class. I’ve been keeping you long enough.”

“You’re more important than a literature lecture right now,” He gave her a genuine smile, “When do you leave?”

“End of the week.”

“I’m gonna throw you a farewell party.”

“Who are you going to invite? All the people that still want to be associated with me?” Marinette joked but the comment was too real.

“It’ll be great...as great as a farewell party can be anyways.” Adrien helped her to her feet. “Are you going back to class?”

“No. Not today. I have to talk this whole transfer over with my parents anyway.”

“Where are you transferring to?”

“Lycee Carnot.”

“Hey, that’s where Kagami attends school.”

Marinette was too exhausted to curse her luck. Of course the school she would be transferring to would have her romantic rival. Kagami was better than Lila by far though. And at least she’ll know someone when she starts there. Even if the two of them haven’t really spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other.

They said goodbye and Marinette went home to explain further what the principal had called them about. Her parents were saddened to hear how horribly she had been suffering. Had they not been paying attention? Was that why she was so reclusive lately?

Marinette assured her parents that this was not their fault in the least. She was in a bad spot and now she was out of it. Things could only get better now that she would be leaving the toxic environment Lila had created. They let their daughter go and rest. After some self care and a heaping helping of her favorite dessert they would talk more about this transfer.

Tikki floated next to Marinette’s head as she laid in bed. “Are you sure about this, Marinette? Lila can be exposed. We can still fix this.”

“This is fixing it, Tikki.” Marinette pulled up her Feel Better playlist and breathed slowly.

Lila had gotten what she wanted but Marinette saw this as her own win. Karma was an unforgiving mistress and in time it would come for Lila. Then Marinette could sit back and watch the carnage with a smile and a snack.

---

(1) (3) (4)

#miraculous ladybug #transfer au #salt fic #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #writing

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pineaberry · 4 years

Text

Fictober: #29 and #30

SWTOR

STARRING: Satele Shan, and THERON SHAN having several moments!

PART 1: [X] | PART 2: [X] | PART 3: [X] | PART 4: [X]

PART 5: [X] | PART 6: [X] | PART 7: [X] | PART 8: [X] | PART 9: [X]

THE THRILLING CONCLUSION!

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME!

@sunsetofdoom @doomhamster @fluffynexu @anchanted-one @kunoichi-ume @cinlat @velvetsunset and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

_______________________

Theron woke up well past noon. A new record considering he hadn’t taken copious amounts of whisky. He rolled over to find the bed empty but Tikal’s scent lingered in the covers and he sighed happily. As his mind slowly woke up, his thoughts lingered on her. Tikal, The Gilded Lady, The Hero of Tython… different people, or perhaps just different aspects of the same person.

She confused him. A reasonable person would hate and resent her for what she had done to him. She had kidnapped him, infected him with an obedience virus, coerced him into helping her plans and that was just off the top of his head. Still, no one would ever claim that Theron was reasonable by any stretch of the imagination. He was chaotic and unpredictable to the point that he had torpedoed every relationship he had ever had.

His last tryst had broken up with him via text. ‘You take too much. You need more than I can give.’

Perhaps that was why it felt good to be with Tikal. With her there were limits. He took what was given and it always seemed to be exactly what he needed. It was warped and twisted but she had taken care of him all this time. Even when he had done something incredibly stupid, she had torn down the door and rescued him. Perhaps it was fitting that she was not the typical sort of Jedi.

Perhaps it’s all Stockholm’s.

Regardless, she had taken him to her bed last night and made the pain fade. That cold chill he always felt around his heart was gone. He sighed and stared at the ceiling all the while feeling foolish for believing she would have more than a fleeting interest in him. The mission was over. Their affair was finished. She had gone off to resume her duties and soon he would be well enough to travel back to Coruscant.

Tikal would never think about him again.

At that moment door opened and a polished gold protocol droid walked holding a tray of food. As the droid set the tray down, Theron saw it was also carrying a fresh change of clothes. He took that as his cue to get up and hobble into the refresher. When he emerged, the droid was patiently waiting.

“Good afternoon, I am C2-N2. Master Tikal apologizes for not being here, but the High Council requested her presence. She has tasked me with providing food and drink.”

He noted that his blaster, and favorite red jacket were also laid out on the freshly made bed. As he slipped on the new trousers, he noticed the knees were reinforced to hide his injury while he finished healing. Inside his red jacket were his holo and a discrete parcel of strong pain killers along with a note:

‘Take WITH food. Not when you planned to eat, not at lunch time. P.S. I don’t care if you’re not hungry.’

She still thought about him. He mattered.

A strange emotion welled up inside him and he cleared his throat. He thought about dismissing the droid, but decided to interrogate him instead. The silly thing was far too eager to please to notice.

It came as only a slight surprise to find out he was in the Jedi Temple on Tython. Of all the places to end up, he supposed this was the safest. Tikal would be back that afternoon as soon as her responsibilities allowed.

“She asked that your remain in the room,” Ceetoo stated as Theron picked up a muja fruit from the tray and walked past the droid.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Master Tikal predicted you would say that and so she requests that you not wander too far from the grounds as there are wild beasts roaming the forest. Additionally, she would like you to know that quote: ‘The amount of credits necessary to finance your medical bills would plunge the Republic into a recession’. End quote.”

Theron cracked a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He wandered out of the dormitories and into the main hallway. Under the hazy overcast light of day, the temple seemed significantly less threatening. He could appreciate the delicate carved walls now that they were no longer obscured by shadows. Padawans mulled around the corridors, some hurried about as though completing a specific errand, others still were trading the latest gossip. Few if any paid him any mind.

As he watched this unexpectedly mundane part of Temple life, he couldn’t help but think of his own childhood. As much as he tried to suppress the thoughts, the reality was that for a large portion of his life this had been his goal. There had been a time when his only thoughts were on visiting Tython and learning how to hone his power. To be here now, surrounded by the very life he was denied was disconcerting. He made a sharp and eventually ended up in the meditation garden but even this only reminded him of a life that would never come to pass.

He didn’t blame Master Zho, how could he? But there were times when he wondered if it would have been better to grow up with a normal family doing normal things and with normal expectations. Yes, there was a galaxy full of wonders that he would never be able to perceive. But perhaps ignorance was bliss if not the more merciful option.

As though the universe continued to conspire against him, he walked around the corner and straight into a small clearing where Satele Shan was waiting.

Fuck me…

“You seem troubled. Is everything alright?” she asked.

Oh perfectly fine. Just walking around taking in the visible reminders of a life I will never have.

“Getting shot will do that,” he grinned as he concealed his emotions from her as best he could.

“Yes, I heard you had been… indisposed.”

“All better now. No need to worry. Or… you know… continue not worrying,” Theron opened his arms as though to put himself under her scrutiny.

Satele looked visibly uncomfortable. She never quite knew how to address Theron. A part of her blamed his lack of emotional discipline, but a quieter, constant voice asked if she were being unreasonable considering the circumstances.

“Yes. I see. If you have a moment Theron, there is something I wish to speak to you about,” she motioned to a pair of benches behind her. Theron eyed Satele warily but followed. He had a bad feeling about this.

“If this is about me being here, don’t worry. I’ll be on the next shuttle to Coruscant.”

“No Theron. I want to ask you about Tikal. I understand you were with her these past few weeks working on a project,” Satele chose her words carefully but ultimately, there was no gentle way of saying it, “it has also come to my attention that you two have been… intimate.”

Theron felt an unpleasant jolt of outrage but remained stoic. “Why don’t you just come out and say what you need to say, Grand Master.”

There was a sharp inflection in the title that hammered home just how much distance was between them. Satele flinched but pressed on.

“It would be an unwise course of action for you to associate too much with Master Ameron. There are tasks that she needs to complete; flaws that she must work on,” she very nearly faltered when Theron gave an incredulous smile.

“So what. This is you telling me to stay away from the wrong crowd?”

“Theron, I understand this may be difficult to hear, but her path is already shrouded in shadow. The dark side touches her actions, and they will only get worse if you indulge in this relationship,” her explanation seemed to ignite a fire in Theron’s eyes.

“Which actions exactly? Because, I read her file. I know what she did. I know that you and the council dragged her all over the the galaxy with a chore list and then had the gall to complain about how she went about it.”

“The motivation behind her actions-”

“Don’t talk to me about motivation. You were the one who sent her out there with a laser sword and a hit list.”

Satele clenched her hands as she kept her own emotions in check. “Is that what you truly believe? Or is that what you tell yourself in order to continue to pursue her? You must know by now that she is not a traditional Jedi. And yes, we use her skills as a last resort, but that does not mean the ends justify the means. She is incapable of holding a normal relationship. Her attachment to you would not be healthy.”

“Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time I almost ruined a Jedi’s career prospects,” he replied unable to keep the bitterness from his tone and Satele’s brow furrowed.

“You misunderstand, I’m not speaking to you on Tikal’s behalf. I’m doing this for you. If you insist on this she will reciprocate. No matter how much you believe otherwise, it will end poorly. I don’t want that for you, Theron. I want to spare you the pain.”

“Then spare me the rest of this conversation,” he snapped as the simmering rage within him bubbled over, “who do you think you are to tell me who I can or can’t fuck? You lost that right the moment you checked the box opting out of having a son. And you know what? That’s fine. You got everything you wanted out of it, but don’t come to me now and pretend we have anything resembling a personal relationship. We’re coworkers at best. And if we’re being honest, considering your track record, you’re the least qualified person to be doling out relationship advice.”

Satele watched as Theron got up, too stunned to respond.

“Good talkin’ to you,” and with that caustic parting he stormed back to the dormitories. He didn’t know what was more infuriating, the Satele’s condescending advice, or the fact that she would condemn their relationship as a failure.

“If you insist on this she will reciprocate. No matter how much you believe otherwise, it will end poorly.”

Right, because the idea that she would love me is so inherently wrong.

He stopped short as the words penetrated the fog of anger. Satele’s warning wasn’t that Tikal would reject him. Her fear was that Tikal would embrace him. Something akin to hope bubbled in his heart.

“How was your walk?” He looked up to see Tikal in front of him. Impulse won out once more and he hugged her.

“Theron? Are you alright?”

He closed his eyes tightly and held on. Later he would blame the painkillers, but for now he needed to feel grounded. He needed to belong somewhere.

“I’m with you, you know that. Right?” he asked quietly and in response he felt her arms wrap around him.

“Well yes, but it’s nice to be told,” she mused and, in that moment, he knew it would all work out. Despite what anybody else thought, they would be okay.

________________________

Original Fictober Promp List HERE!

#Theron Shan #Satele Shan #SWTOR #SWTOR OCs #Tikal Ameron #fictober19

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spectrehqs · 4 years

Photo

congratulations ! welcome to spectrehqs ashcroft university. under the cut is a list of acceptances for all skeletons. thank you so much for applying & i’m so excited to start writing with you. please take a look at our checklist and send your account within the next twenty-four hours.

ANTONY: liam d’antona written by jason.

in a sea of applications, there’s something special about one that really sucks you in the way yours did, i really got whisked away. starting with the end and beginning a mystery that would have me hooked for the entirety of your app. lush with detail, i would sometimes forget about the sheer mystery of liam’s acceptance at ashcroft until you drew me back to it. in the midst of laying the seeds of his secret, you painted a picture of a character colorful, interesting and romantic, rife with nods to classic literature and film. even the side characters of the story, his grandparents and father, felt real and alive. i literally wrote myself this note halfway through – “i’m completely on the edge of my seat about why he doesn’t want to get in? it’s killing me.” and then by the end, “I’M SCREAMING.” a natural progression, of course. i loved the juxtaposition of both sides of the page in his letters – his drunk letter vs. his sober letter, and his voice was so endearing and real that by the end of your application, i felt like i knew liam but i also knew TOO much because it was so vulnerable. this application was like diving into a great book and i can’t wait to read more of your writing.

BRUTUS: christopher ‘kit’ stanley written by hayley.

i was immediately struck by the juxtaposition you presented – the romanticism of kit’s name, home, and family, contrasted with their line of work and attitude. honestly, your sentence structure in that first paragraph really hit me hard and it set a great precedent for the rest of kit’s story. my jaw literally dropped when i read PENSHURST PLACE but i’m so glad you really went there with this character, going all the way to the top with the opulence and hitting home when it comes to what both ashcroft and the imperium society is all about. if you were worried about writing a controversial character, then stop, because kit exemplifies that in a way that is both relatable and painful. the way you wrote his introduction to lysander PAINED me because when i reached that point in the story, it was so satisfying to see such a lonely boy find such a heartwarming friendship, and it quickly becomes obvious how loyal lysander is to kit, how much he cares for him. the cherry on top is kit’s resentment toward octavia and how his relationship splintered with lysander as a result – leading to our ultimate climax. then when you casually dropped that big fucking secret in so casually at the end...the comment i wrote for myself? “GASP.” because damn, what else can i say? you’re on fire. i can’t wait to see how that unfolds. it’s a bad time to make enemies.

CLEOPATRA: iskra gill written by lara.

this was not the cleopatra i expected at all – in a good way. iskra would like to be unexpected anyway, i think, she’s that kind of girl. her relationship with her family intrigues me most because it is not one of loyalty, and the way she watches her brother crash and burn ( no pun intended ) after being overlooked for her whole life is a moment that i found myself cheering for as the reader ? iskra is a character that worked herself up from the top to the bottom and then back up to the top again, and has lived several lifetimes for someone so young. her secret at first did not strike me as unique – several apps across the board expressed a secret, harbored love for the elusive octavia, but yours was the one i chose because of that realness, that raw understanding that comes with an unrequited love, and how that transitioned into her affair with titus. i also adored your ‘list’ of secrets, which really served to humanize her in so many ways, and the bachelor in paradise detail ? i was laughing through tears. her last fucking text, and all of the final text messages you wrote. words cannot express. if i wasn’t sold already, your fucking LETTER DRAFTS, all of them, heartbreaking and lovely, i felt like i gained a real and full understanding for iskra’s relationship with octavia and how utterly isolated she must feel now. i can’t wait to see every single one of these elements in play on the dash !

CORDELIA: norah bardot written by nica.

interestingly enough, norah is a character that not only exemplifies the skeleton, but also shakespeare’s interpretation of cordelia: this soft innocence, good-hearted nature that comes with cordelia, but also a realness. compared to every other character, norah is different because her story is not rife with hatred, anger, or the tragedy of a broken home. norah’s is full of love and compassion – and all the ways that isn’t enough. the tiny details, like the soup kitchen and the way you described her mother’s comments, really made me feel the difference in relationship cordelia has with each parent. this line really sticks with me – “you wouldn’t know rebellion, you couldn’t afford to. naive innocence brushed across your forehead, branding you different.” i can’t think of better words and i won’t try. i am scared to accept a character like norah, of course, her gentle kindness and trusting nature are things that are about to get her eaten alive, but isn’t that the fun of it? you also captured her sheer genius as well, which the juxtaposition of that genius and also that naivety is *chefs kiss* – you get her and your interpretation was so well articulated. i am so fucking excited to write with you and read more of what you come up with.

HAMLET: thalia lukas written by brooke.

i can feel thalia’s rage and perhaps that runs in the family; rage for her father for how he treated them; rage for her mother for how she left; rage for society for what they did to her brother. thalia doesn’t come across any of her good qualities on her own, they come from lysander, which i found interesting, and i loved how you characterized her as this hopelessly ambitious person to the point of greed and dishonesty. i think you’ve created this sort of desperation in her that’s as strong and dangerous as any sort of violence and that’s what intrigued me at the start: where is this going? what disaster is thalia going to incur next? i also am so deeply drawn to and excited by thalia’s DISLIKE of octavia because ‘if octavia was a beautiful, blossomed rose, thalia was a thorny shrub.’ – all of her actions leading up to the disaster seem to justify all of thalia’s reactions afterward as well, and what we’re left with is a strong, passionate, disorderly mess that so exemplifies thalia, and every way you describe seems to just scream the outsider-ness that i was looking for and i love that she just doesn’t give a FUCK about octavia’s piece of mind – she’s looking for her own. i literally can’t wait to watch her clash with the rest of the muses we have on board here.

LADY MACBETH: valentine vega written by kiwi.

i won’t get into how hard of a decision this was, you already know. what i will get into is how hard it was to read this application, it was dark and gritty and just the right amount of unsettling. and upsetting. certain aspects of it were so hard to read that i did have to take a break ( i think you can guess exactly where ), but when it comes down to it, valentine fits into this plot seamlessly, and while you can’t blame her for her past, you can blame her for the present; and it really made me think about the fact that her crime was not just what she did to octavia, but what she did to lysander ( which is actually worse than what she did to octavia in val’s story, in my opinion. ) i love an app that can give me a new perspective on my own fucking plot. i remember getting to the second half of your application and a LIGHTBULB dawning over my head when i realized the connection between the first half of her story and the second half, and i would have to agree with you that octavia certainly did not know the entirety of the situation at hand. but using one murder to cover up another...the skeletons are stacking up, and i love how you took the initiative to explain the blackmail in a way that also involves val – it’s nearly impossible not to sympathize with her when you look at it solely from her side. i love how perfectly composed she seems now and the juxtaposition between both contrasting letters you wrote, the one that seems proper and poised and the other that seems completely unhinged, which i sense is the direction you’re going. i am excited to watch such a poised character fall from grace, but i will feel for her at the same time – which is precisely why this works.

MACBETH: dante campana written by pepper.

i was hooked from this line: at first, he did. your characterization for macbeth was just so unexpected because to begin with, dante is such a bright person with such a big heart! he is the warm one in a family of cold hearts! i wrote this comment halfway through reading, at the part where he unintentionally starts a nonprofit: “i'm halfway through wondering how tf dante killed anybody? doesn’t make sense.” and yet, you made it make sense. through his relationship with his sister – and the jaw-dropping, horrific event that culminated in her loss, we learn so much about dante and see a changed person. i’ve been thinking a lot about the line where he learns from his family, “if you wanted love, you had to earn it,” and i think that already sets up a lot for his motivations later in his life story, when he commits such an atrocious act. and i think that’s the pull of dante; he doesn’t seem like a killer. not to me, not to anyone. all the police would have to do is GOOGLE him in order to write him off as being completely incapable. he’s a hero, and yet...the progression into villain is tragic, shocking, and morally ambiguous, just the way we like it. there are so many things about him that make him ‘good,’ but yet can we really call him that? i don’t think so, no, and i love this play on the grey areas, and the ways we don’t see the killer under our own noses because of the way they are perceived. thank you so much for crafting such an intriguing, interesting backstory, and i can’t wait to see how dante reacts under all of this new pressure. i trust you will write it beautifully.

OPHELIA: theresa rigby written by nora.

my first comment: “u knew exactly what you were doing with this beautifully crafted symbolism, huh?” BUT I LOVED IT, the water baby symbolism was just the homage to ophelia i didn’t know i needed. i got strong sharp objects vibes throughout your application, and it’s hard not to associate theresa with death, but she owns it so completely and i can’t stop thinking about the image of her scribbling frantically in the pages of a diary. there’s something slightly unhinged about everything she does, but it’s hard to blame her – you can see every reason behind her actions in the layers of her upbringing. not to mention that you have such a gift for writing metaphors and comparisons that really bring the concepts you have in mind to life ! the cheesegrater one literally made me gasp, i could relate so deeply, and your entire app is filled with small nuggets of purely good writing just like that. such a treat to read. i also had to laugh at lady macbeth being her favorite shakespeare heroine, the way that’s what resonates with theresa and why, and the way that theresa lives her life is so HUMAN to me, and she completely endeared herself when she clumsily tried to quote Ginsberg bidding her friends goodbye. she’s ethereal, dreamlike, but theresa is also real, and that’s what i loved about your application so much. i was so excited by this application and i am even more excited to see more of theresa, because i know she’ll make me laugh, cry, and everything in between.

OTHELLO: christian bösch written by em.

it was the long haul to get an application for this skeleton but so, so worth it. i’m obsessed with your take, from how his history with his sister seamlessly transitions into his relationship with lady macbeth, how you’ve entwined christian so deeply in the octavia/lysander drama on his own, adding layers to his motivation for caving to lady macbeth’s whims. christian himself has many layers, and i wrote on your app, “i have no decision to make here. why do i keep reading this app again and again?” because it was just so fucking good, one of those things you read where you forget about everything else cause you’re lost in it for a moment. also, insanely impressed at the ways you dove into connection ideas with every skeleton, drawing similarities and differences between them and it meant a lot to me how much you clearly went through all the details. also, i loved the little bits of dialogue sprinkled throughout the background, i felt like i got a great sense of christian’s voice long before i reached the letter, and by the end you really empathize with his struggle. you can understand WHY it was so easy for lady macbeth to manipulate him in so many ways, and i didn’t even start talking about max ––– there’s just so much good shit to unpack here, i love it, and i can’t wait to continue peeling back the layers. as you can expect, christian will be faced with some major choices soon. only development will see where that takes him. i’m excited.

ROMEO: william “wolfie” preston written by samantha.

oh, wowie wow. a very hard choice, but you hit it so far out of the park it’s in another galaxy. reading wolfie’s story was like reading a beautiful tragedy, starting with his parents first words when he was born and on to every expectation they placed on him afterward. i feel like romeo was one of those skeletons that had the most laid out for it due to octavia, but you took every little detail, embellished, AND ran with it, which i loved. my favorite part of your app was actually where you wrote about wolfie seeing octavia’s ghost and the first things he said to her – you described their relationship already, but that dialogue back and forth really hit home for me and made me completely understand the weight of their relationship. and why wolfie is just so devastated by what happened that it’s completely changed him as a person. loss can really do that to you, huh? i also really appreciated the way you also incorporated oberon into the story, something i didn’t really see! the way he craves validation from the head of school/the society the same way he craves it from his parents was really hard-hitting and i loved being able to get some insight into that dynamic as well. your app was infused with so many little details and i felt like you also really brought octavia to life, with her names for statues and all. i also died a little at the scene you described at his football game, my heart SUNK for wolfie, because it’s hard to watch him try so hard again. and again. and again. the letter itself was beautiful as well and i appreciated your scene setting, which not only put his words into perspective, but did more to make wolfie seem more real. sure, he’s a golden boy, but he’s also a person, and i’m excited to watch how the events of this plot show all the cracks in his foundation. he’s changed and he’s changing and i’m excited for more.

TITUS: august reyn written by moosh.

i could not accept a titus that didn’t break my heart. and august broke my heart more times than i can count now, pretty much with every single fucking bullet point. i love the little contradictions; how he hates rich kids but he is one, doesn’t yell during fights but does during debates...i think the thing about august is he is cocky, charming, and at times aggressive, but he also has this sort of interesting moral code that motivates how he treats people and acts on the field; how he SCREAMS at the ref but is patient with his teammates? iconic. i feel like i got more upset over his grandmother’s passing than i did about octavia’s, which says a lot, but don’t think it passed me by how the two people who have really cared for august are no longer around. the moment in his life where he really fights back at his bully and learns the power of WEALTH was so impactful to me, and i think it characterizes many of his actions, prior and post. also the batman comparison was on point, of course. the way his relationship with his dad develops is heartbreaking, but even more heartbreaking is the fact that he loses a support system when things are at their worst. essentially, my heart snaps for august again and again, and reading about his development post-death was raw and hard, like i was reading something i shouldn’t be. i just want august to get a fucking win but i already know i’m going to put him through the ringer, sos sorry in advance. also huge props for roping him into the scandal surrounding octavia’s death in that way, i can’t wait to incorporate that into the plot overall.

#accepted

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goodticklebrain · 5 years

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Q&A August: Kevin Condardo and Dan Beaulieu

It’s the final installment of Q&A August! I hope you’ve had fun meeting some of my Shakespeare friends. I know I’ve had a lot of fun asking them these questions, and I’m definitely going to do this again some time, as I have SO MANY MORE cool Shakespeare friends for you to meet. But for now, let’s turn to my closers, my last and least, Kevin Condardo and Dan Beaulieu, the bros behind one of my favorite Shakespeare podcasts: No Holds Bard!

I was skeptical about No Holds Bard at first. Launched in 2015, it appeared to be two white dudes yelling about Shakespeare at each other, which did not particularly appeal to me. I didn’t even start listening to it until I met Dan and his partner in crime, Christine Penney, in person at the Shakespeare Theatre Association conference in 2016. Tousled and bewhiskered like a pirate, Dan was overwhelmingly brash, loud, unruly, obnoxious, insufferable… and somehow inexplicably charming. After meeting him, I finally started listening to No Holds Bard and found that the podcast was also brash, loud, unruly, obnoxious, insufferable… and somehow inexplicably charming.

Two things are immediately apparent upon listening to No Holds Bard: Dan and Kevin (his slightly less unruly and obnoxious co-host and the brains of the operation) both know their Shakespeare and love their Shakespeare. Their highly entertaining arguments and bro-y banter are backed up with serious knowledge of Shakespearean text and performance, and, in spite of their best efforts to contrary, you can actually learn a lot from them. Also (and this is important) they regularly make me laugh out loud.

In 2017 Kevin and Dan invited me to be their first ever guest on No Holds Bard. With some trepidation, I agreed and discovered that Kevin and Dan in real life are EXACTLY THE SAME as they are on the podcast. Recording with them was a blast, and since then I have thoroughly enjoyed keeping up with the podcast (occasionally falling months behind and then frantically trying to catch up) and interacting with them and other No Holds Bard listeners (a.k.a. Bardflies) on Twitter.

And so, it gives me great pleasure to present that charmingly insufferable duo, the joint top bananas of No Holds Bard, Kevin and Dan!

1. Who are you? Why Shakespeare?

KEVIN: I’m Kevin Condardo: host of the NO HOLDS BARD podcast (The Shakespeare Podcast Shakespeare Would Have Listened To*), performing arts administrator, Boston sports fan, and lover of all things theater. I’m the managing director of the Seven Stages Shakespeare Company based out of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and I work on the business end of the Off-Broadway theater industry in New York City.

My first introduction to Shakespeare was a terrible production of Romeo and Juliet that I saw on a school field trip in eighth grade, most notable for everyone being in Elizabethan costumes and having Mercutio thrusting himself seemingly on every other word in a failing effort at convincing school kids that Shakespeare was making dirty jokes and is therefore relatable. I loathed Shx until my sophomore year of college, when I auditioned for Cymbeline in college because it was a shared audition for the play I really wanted to be in (Twelve Angry Men). I was required to prepare a Shakespearian monologue and so I memorized and performed it with a British accent (as a sophomore in college!!), and about ten seconds in my professor Deb Kinghorn stopped me and asked me what the hell I was doing, and I said Shakespeare, and she said no I wasn’t. Somehow I was cast as a boorish, fratty Cloten, and over the course of that production I fell in love with Shakespeare and never looked back.

DAN: Hey! I’m Dan Beaulieu: I’m an avid Shakespeare lover, performer, director, student of the game. I am CO-host and top banana on the aforementioned No Holds Bard podcast with my fellow CO-host Kevin. I am the co-founder and Artistic Director of Seven Stages Shakespeare Company, a former Ambassador for the Shakespeare Society in NYC, member of the internationally renowned Passion in Practice and The Shakespeare Ensemble (both helmed by the incomparable Ben Crystal), and frequent collaborator with the New York City based company Rude Grooms (led by the always lovely Montgomery Sutton).

Why Shagspeare? I deeply admire his sprawling exploration of the human condition, his probing of Magick and Witches, his Timelessness, and perhaps most importantly the fact that it IS in fact for everybody, if you let it be.

2. What moment(s) in Shakespeare always make you laugh?

KEVIN: It’s more of an incredulous cackle than a laugh, but...after the Richard / Lady Anne scene, after we think we’ve seen the bunch-back’d toad bare his soul in expressing his love for his lady, he tells us “I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long” - cueing the audience to hopefully boo and hiss - after which Shakespeare gives him “What?” to respond to the disgusted audience. What a joy for an actor! (And if you have a Richard that doesn’t elicit at least one gasp on that line and thus has no audience members to give that “What?” to, you know you’re in for a long evening of theater.)

DAN: I think Petruchio’s entrance to the wedding, when costumed properly, is pretty hilarious. I also get a good chuckle out of “That’s a shelled peascod” from King Lear. Something about the phrase “Shelled Peascod” just gets me. Hamlet’s sardonic humor in the scene leading up to The Mousetrap is also stacked up with great laugh lines.

KEVIN: Do you mean country matters?

3. What's a favorite Shakespearean performance anecdote?

DAN: As a raging egoist, I’ll share my favorite anecdote from a performance I was in. I was playing Titus and in the scene where I lose my hand I was given a messenger bag to carry around with me. They actually had me carry it for the whole first half of the play so it wouldn’t be weird when I had it in this scene. The dummy hand was stored in there so when the “theater magic” moment happened I’d dip the hand out of the bag and TADA! I’m handless! Well, one night the hand fell out of the bag several moments before it was supposed to be cut off. I jumped on the hand like a fumbled football and took my rant from the floor of the stage. (It was a three quarter thrust, 70 seat black box so there wasn’t anywhere to hide.) After the show, several members of the cast commented on how I was “really feeling that scene”, not realizing I was not feeling it at all...I was simply scattering to figure out a way to justify a random hand lying on the ground moments before the audience would see it again.

KEVIN: When I was a company manager at Shakespeare in the Park in NYC, it was my responsibility to cancel or hold the show in case of inclement weather - which meant my “job” all summer was to sit in the back of the house and watch every performance while refreshing about five different weather apps and calculate if we were going to be able to get the show in. During The Merchant of Venice, we were flirting with a rainstorm all night - the sky looked very ominous from the start but nothing had fallen, even though I and the entire audience knew it was coming. The weather held all evening, up until Portia’s “The quality of mercy is not strained / It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven…” at which point, the gentlest rain you ever felt began to droppeth from heaven, allowing Portia to turn her palm up to feel the rain fall and the entire crowd to “ooh” in unison. Goosebump city.

4. What's one of the more unusual Shakespearean interpretations you've either seen or would like to see?

KEVIN: I’m no director, but I’d love to see an As You Like It set around 1910, where the music at the court is all Sousa marches and barber shop (basically The Music Man), and then when they go to the country you have the same musicians and instrumentations playing Jelly Roll Morton and the jazz and dixieland that was exploding at the same moment. (Artistic directors: I’ll be waiting by the phone for my call.)

DAN: I called you to do this several years ago, but...musicians.

I’d like to direct a production of Twelfth Night in a very large warehouse immersive experience where the central design conceit is a House of Mirrors….possibly around Halloween or in Coney Island during the winter. Full creep zone. Similarly, I think it’d be fun to do an As You Like It in a corn maze or a Jacobean influenced pageant production of Midsummer Night’s Dream as a haunted hayride that starts around 6pm and goes til midnight, getting scarier and scarier as the night goes on. Bring the little kids early for fun fairies and come back at 11pm for the weird ones.

5. What's one of your favorite Shakespearean "hidden gems"?

DAN: I’m a sucker for the fact that when Romeo and Juliet meet for the first time their exchange is a shared sonnet. It’s not necessarily “hidden” but I love when I see a production that is clearly “going there” with that moment.

KEVIN: I talk about it all the time on the podcast but I LOVE the King of France in All’s Well that Ends Well. So deferential, kind, funny, but also strong and forceful when required - along with some endlessly quotable lines. Perhaps more “underrated” than “hidden gem?”

DAN: I like that we both just couched our answers in “this isn’t exactly what you asked, but it’s the answer we’re going to give anyway”. If you enjoy this kind of response to questions, you’ll love our podcast!

6. What passages from Shakespeare have stayed with you?

KEVIN: Ironically and annoyingly, the Shakespeare quote I use the most is actually a misquote that got locked into my brain during my only professional gig - a production of Antony and Cleopatra at the Theater at Monmouth. There’s a sequence where Antony is waiting for an update from the field, and when the messenger arrives the actor playing Antony would turn violently to him and spew out “The news from Sicyon, ho!”. I loved the way he delivered the line and started incorporating it into my life every time someone entered a room with information that the rest of us were waiting on. Unfortunately, that line doesn’t exist - either the actor learned it wrong, or the director inverted it - and the actual line, “From Sicyon, ho, the news!”, doesn’t quite have the same allure.

DAN: I suppose I have to go with the two I have tattooed on my body, as they literally stay with me. They are “To Be” and “This above all, to thine own self be true”. I’m grateful that the verb in both lines is Be, which is deceptively simple. As an actor, it’s really what we’re asked to do---just be.

7. What Shakespeare plays have changed for you?

DAN: I used to make Pericles the butt of all of my “Shakespeare made mistakes too you know?!” jokes. Admittedly that was before I ever read it or worked on it. Now it is easily one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and one that I expect to see more and more of in the future. Disney is sleeping on a gold mine, though I hope Pixar beats them to it.

KEVIN: I have to ask: which play is the punchline to that joke now?

DAN: Henry VIII or Measure (come at me Measure lovers!)

KEVIN: For me, it’s the histories. A few summers ago, Seven Stages Shakespeare Company (helmed by Dan, Christine Penney, and myself) did a one-day, fourteen-hour reading of all eight of the linked history plays one after the other. After seeing the way the storylines feed so deeply one into the other (most particularly Margaret’s arc), I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see any one of them individually the same way again.

Mya interjects: The Seven Stages history day is definitely on my list of “productions I’m kicking myself for missing”. If you do it again, boys, let me know. I am available for any bit parts that don’t require replicating actual human emotions.

8. What Shakespearean character or characters do you identify the most with?

KEVIN: I feel the deepest connection to the seconds-in-command, but to choose the one that encapsulates that the most I’ll say Gloucester from King Lear. Ever since childhood I’ve always considered myself a second rather than a first - I took pride in Little League being the catcher that served as the psychologist for the pitchers, I relate much more to Tom Hagen than to Michael Corleone, and in Shakespeare I’m much more connected to the person who holds the ear of the person everyone is looking at rather than being the center of attention myself.

DAN: I feel a deep connection to Jaques- especially his description of melancholy and the cynical way he sees the world around him, as witnessed in the Seven Ages speech. I fancy myself a fool and appreciate Jaques function in the play, both as a countervoice to the romanticized experience of Arden so many have, his dismay at the murder of the deer, and his departure from the rest of the group at the end.

9. Where can we find out more about you? Are there any projects/events you would like us to check out?

KEVIN: I bare my soul weekly* on the NO HOLDS BARD podcast, which Dan frequently appears on as co-host / second banana. The show is available for download on iTunes and Stitcher, and also the full* archive is available on our website at noholdsbard.com. You should also follow us on Twitter @NoHoldsBardCast and on Facebook at Facebook.com SLAAAASSHHHH NoHoldsBardCast!

DAN: If you are the market for stuff about the top banana specifically check out my website at www.danbeauknows.com. Seven Stages has a ton of exciting projects coming up including season eight of ShakesBEERiences in NH and a full production of MacBeth this autumn near Halloween. If you want more luscious No Holds Bard Content, check out our Patreon at www.patreon.com slash noholdsbard. Also, I’ll be touring Japan with several dear friends, including Dylan Kammerer, Tim Jacobs, Andrew Codispoti, Ben Crystal and The Shakespeare Ensemble this September playing Hamlet in Hamlet, Banquo in MacBeth, and Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet. It’s a dream track with an incredible ensemble so if you are in Japan, come check it out!

(Back to Mya) Thanks so much to Kevin and Dan for answering my questions and helping me out this month! Confession: when I was scheduling my guests for this month, I deliberately penciled Kevin and Dan in for the last slot, not because I thought they’d be a particularly boffo ending (although, obviously, they are) but because I was sure they wouldn’t get their answers in until the very last second. To my shock, they send them in well over a week early, which, I can only assume, involved a great deal of personal sacrifice and discipline on their part. For that, and for constantly entertaining me as I drive around town, I am very grateful to them.

You can listen to me banter with Kevin and Dan on the following episodes of No Holds Bard:

#86 - Holy Sh*t It’s Mya Gosling

#138: The Fantasy Shakespeare Season Draft II

Also, do consider chucking a couple bucks their way each month on Patreon, as I do.

Thanks once again to EVERYONE who helped me out this month: Austin Tichenor, Kate Powers, Sam White, David Prosser, Kate Pitt, Christy Burgess, Kevin Condardo and Dan Beaulieu! I am so lucky in my friends and in my Shakespeare community. My life is still kind of crazy at the moment so I’m taking next week off, but I’ll be back after that (hopefully, and at last) with some new comics!

#Q&A august #shakespeare

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ofsinnersandsaints · 5 years

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where do you run

AO3

Keyleth is restless after her fight with Raishan and her forced alliance with a dragon she can't begin to trust.

When she can't sleep, she seeks out companionship and despite a castle full of allies the only person she can think to go to is Grog, and she finds the kind of comfort and understanding she hasn't known for a very long time.

It was sometime after midnight, and Keyleth had gotten zero sleep.

Not for lack of trying, she’d tossed and turned in her bed for more than an hour. As the clock crept towards one am she threw back the covers and moved to sit cross legged on the expensive rug covering the cold stone floor.

Mediation had worked in the past, so she closed her eyes and tried to settle her mind and calm her soul but no matter how hard she tried clear her thoughts, they inevitably drifted back to Raishan which made her want to punch something all over again.

She was exhausted, verging on punch-drunk, and getting increasingly frustrated at her lack of sleep.

Determined to give it one more try she tried imagine herself weightless, floating in a clear blue sky, but the whole time there was a pull, like a thread tied to her ribs, which kept tugging her attention down the hall to the second door on the left.

Restless, her skin feeling too tight, Keyleth got up with a curse and wrenched open the door to her bedroom and padded barefoot down the dimly lit hall.

There were guards at either end, but they didn’t seem to be paying her any mind. It was their job to make sure no one attacked, not to make sure everyone stayed in their proper rooms.

Still, she felt a little like a teenager sneaking into a boy’s room after the adults had gone to bed.

“Grog,” Keyleth called quietly through the door, because she worried a knock on his door might wake up Vex who had incredibly sensitive hearing. “Are you up?”

There was movement on the other side of the door, the heavy footsteps which she easily recognized as belonging to Grog. When he opened the door he looked obviously surprised to see her outside his room in the middle of the night. “Keyleth?”

“Were you sleeping?” she asked, suddenly embarrassed and uncertain. The last thing he probably wanted was to be bugged in the middle of the night by an awkward druid. He’d probably been getting ready to go bed; she should have thought this through instead of going on impulse. “I’m sorry-gods, I shouldn’t have barged in like this.”

Keyleth was already taking a step back when he smiled, small enough it was barely visible through his beard. “You didn’t barge in, you’re still in the hallway. Did you need something?”

She felt stupid and childish. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” and as if that explained everything Grog opened the door and waved her in. “Welcome to Casa Grog. You want something to drink?”

Keyleth followed him inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. “You have alcohol in your room?”

“I have the bag,” he explained, picking up the bag of holding and dropping it on the table which was half covered with weapons. “We’ve got that shitty tasting sand wine, but I was talking about the jug. You can get some decent beer out of it.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll have a drink.”

Grog pulled two cups from the bag, one looked like a piece of dented tin and the other was encrusted with gems, then the alchemy jug and poured them both a glass. He gave her the pretty jeweled one and Keyleth wondered if he was being kind or if he didn’t see a difference in the cups.

She imagined that, for him, it was what alcohol inside that mattered more.

Since there wasn’t a lot of options for sitting Keyleth perched herself on the edge of the bed, and Grog all but sprawled in the chair next to the table. Letting herself be distracted she studied the chair because Grog usually dwarfed most furniture, but this one actually seemed to be made for him. “Did Percy get you new furniture?”

“Yeah,” he said as a he took a long drag from the cup, then immediately reached for the jug to refill it. “Had it ‘specially made because all the shit here is made for scrawny people. I got a backache from everything. What are you doing here?”

He tacked the question on the end like he’d only just thought about it, but Keyleth knew he was more clever than he let on and was likely trying to catch her guard with the hopes of getting an honest answer.

“I can’t just want hang out?” she evaded, taking a large drink of the beer. She had the vague idea of getting drunk but wasn’t sure it was the best idea in current emotional state.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “But you’ve never wanted to before.”

“Fair enough.” She shifted, resting her feet on the foot board, and stared down at her bare toes peeking out from under her nightgown. “If you wanted to learn how to fire a gun, who would you go to?”

“Percy.”

She looked up at the immediate answer. “Throw a dagger?”

“Vax,” he answered, his brow lowered and she thought he understood she was leading up to something.

“And if someone wanted to learn to control their anger?”

“Me,” he answered as the corner of his lips twitched. “You feeling a need to control your anger, Kiki?”

Keyleth tried to portray a calm exterior, but there was a flame catching somewhere inside her and she thought if she didn’t vent some of the pressure she’d explode. Instead of screaming or yelling she just turned the cup in her hands, and kept her gaze steady with his. “You saw me with Raishan earlier.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And I lost control.”

Grog snorted. “You really didn’t.”

Keyleth was confused, she’d felt herself lose control, had watched almost as a bystander as she raged at the green dragon in human skin. She’d seen Vex’s surprise and worry, had felt Vax’s stare.

They all thought she’d lost it.

“What would you call it then?”

“Being righteously pissed the fuck off, but you didn’t lose control. I know what that looks like,” he bit out. “Kevdak lost control when he beat me within an inch of my life, Percy lost control with that punk kid who drove the Briarwood’s carriage. You yelled and it was fucking justified. If it had been me? If someone had gone after Wilhand? I’d have taken an axe to her head, fuck everything else.”

There was something about how controlled his voice was which made him seem all the more dangerous; lounging in a chair with every muscle relaxed, but eyes as hard as steel. Something shifted inside of her as she watched him; her heart was beating differently in her chest, and she could almost feel the blood in her veins pumping quicker.

It felt like rage, but the edges were smoother.

Keyleth took a long drink, the beer wetting her suddenly dry throat.

“I’ve never yelled like that before.”

“Yeah, you have.”

She was surprised at his rebuttal, and tried to search her recent memory for a time when she’d let loose as she had earlier that day. “I have?”

“Well,” he corrected, “Maybe not quite that mad, but you got pretty close when Tibs killed that old lady who was running away. You were worried we were losing our morality.”

Keyleth remembered it vividly, those months when it felt as if their group was going to fracture at any minute. “I’m still worried about it. I’m worried I’ll get so mad I’ll forget where my lines are and become the thing I hate.”

“If you’re looking for guidance in morality, I’d go see Pike. But if you want to know what I think?”

“I do,” and she was completely sincere about it.

“We’re about to fight a fucking conclave of dragons, and if you second guess everything you do it’s like having one arm tied behind your back and we need you at your best. You can’t go forward scared of what you’ll do; and when it comes down to it, if you cross a line, you can always walk back. You can’t take back what you did, but you can try and not do it again.”

“I never thought about it like that,” she admitted. She’d always seen ‘wrong’ as something you couldn’t go back from. In her mind she had two choices, do right all the time, or be evil, but that wasn’t how the world actually worked.

“Is this why you can’t sleep? You just keep worrying about Raishan?”

“I’m just so angry, and there’s so much inside of me and I don’t want it. I want her to feel it,” Keyleth all but growled, putting as much hatred and poison into the words as she could. “To carry the weight of it. I want-“

“Revenge,” Grog finished for her, his gaze level with hers.

Keyleth almost startled at the directness of it, of how he seemed to be looking into her as much as at her.

It was like being seen for the time, and she couldn’t turn away because this was what she’d come here in the middle of the night for.

Without even realizing she’d come here looking for the one thing she didn’t think she could get anywhere else: Understanding.

“I get revenge, Keyleth. You don’t have to explain it to me.” He pushed himself off the chair and walked across the room, bending at the knees so his eyes were level with hers. “You helped me get mine against Kevdak, I’ll help you get yours from Raishan.”

Yes, Grog understood, and he wouldn’t make her feel bad because to him anger wasn’t something to be buried or dismissed, anger was a tool the same as his axe or her spells. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he assured her, and she believed it. Then he did something unexpected, he reached out and took her hand, slowing curling the fingers in until she made a fist. “In the meantime, I’ll teach you how to throw a punch.”

Keyleth smiled, the idea for some reason incredibly amusing to her. “You’re going to teach me how to fight?”

“It’s a good way to manage the rage,” he explained. “Who knows, you might even be good at it. You could kick ass even when you’re not a walking mountain.”

“I’d appreciate it,” she agreed, because she trusted him. “Thank you.”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but there was a softness around his eyes which helped settle her. “It’ll be nice to have someone to spar with, if you don’t mind getting a little bruised up.”

Keyleth shook her head. “You don’t scare me.”

Grog laughed and straightened, gesturing to her other hand as he asked, “You done?”

She looked down at the cup in her hand, empty. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

He took the cup from her hand and tossed into the bag of holding before draining his own cup and adding it to the magical abyss. Then he turned and leaned against the table, crossing one ankle over the other. “When you’re less pissed off and sad, remind me to tell you how fucking hot you were when you were laying into Raishan.”

Keyleth huffed out a surprised laugh, could feel the blush darkening her cheeks. She didn’t even know what to say to that so she changed the subject. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

Grog shrugged, “Sure.”

Keyleth smiled, he was the only person she knew who would agree to something without knowing what it was. That was how his heart beat, with unquestionable loyalty.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He watched her for a minute like he was trying to figure her out, and she half expected him to ask why and then she’d have to try and figure out how to put these feelings into words but instead he just nodded. “Sure. But keep in mind I snore.”

They’d all slept around the same campfires for months, this wasn’t news to her. “I’m fully aware of that, Grog.”

“Good,” he stood up and studied the bed, then the room.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to choose which side to sleep on,” he explained, his eyes narrowing. “When we sleep in big houses we tend to get attacked from the windows, so I’ll sleep over here.”

Keyleth snorted, she might not be able to throw a punch but she was hardly helpless. “I don’t need to be protected, Grog.”

“Oh, I know that.” He sat down on the bed and began untying his boots. “But I’m a meat shield, that’s my job. Take the first hit so you can hit back.”

Keyleth moved across the massive bed until she got to the top, pulling back the covers so she could settle in. “We would make a pretty badass team.”

“Fuck yeah, we would.” She heard the sound of his boots dropping, “Lights on or off?”

Keyleth thought about the candles burning and couldn’t imagine going to sleep looking at flames which would be cousins to the ones which killed her people. “Off.”

He went around the room and turned off the lanterns and blowing out candles; in the darkness she heard him move closer, the mattress shifting under his weight as he climbed into bed beside her.

There was a tension there between them, thick enough she thought she could mold it, but it wasn’t awkward or weird. But shouldn’t it be? It would have been with Vax or Percy, but for some reason having his big, solid weight a few inches away, close enough to touch, allowed to breathe easy for the first time all day.

“You’re not going to jump me in the middle of the night, are you?” Grog asked after a moment of silence.

Keyleth burst out of laughing, shifting onto her stomach as the last of the heaviness in her gut disappeared, which she suspected had been his intention. “No, I think I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Don’t hold yourself back on my account,” he quipped as he settled on his back. “Just wanted to know so I don’t take a swing at ya when you start groping me.”

Keyleth shook her head, bundling the pillow beneath her head as she burrowed under the blankets, closing her eyes, a smile still on her lips. “Good night, Grog.”

She thought she heard a smile in his voice when he replied, “G’night, Keyleth.”

The next morning she woke to the sounds of Grog moving around the room. She pried her eyes open and watched as he gathered stuff from around the room. “The sun’s barely up, what are you doing?”

“These rippling muscles don’t take care of themselves,” he informed her pertly. “I’m going to pick up some cows, throw some soldiers around. Maybe run to Emon and back.”

“As one does,” Keyleth teased.

“You’re more than welcome to stay,” he told her as he picked up his axe. “But if you manage to roll out of bed before noon I’ll show how to punch someone without breaking your thumb.”

Keyleth’s eyebrows lowered. “You can break your thumb punching someone?”

Grog shook his head, an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face. “It’s just sad, how little you know. Come down and I’ll teach you a thing or two. Here,” he showed her his axe. “First lesson is free. This is called a weapon,” Keyleth laughed at his over-done enunciation. “You hurt people with it.”

“Sharp end goes into the bad guy?” Keyleth asked, playing along.

“You’re a natural,” he praised, slipping his axe into the loop on his belt. “I’ll see you later, Kiki.”

“See you later, Grog.” She thought about rolling over and going back to sleep but called out to her friend as he reached the door. “Grog?” He turned to her, a question in his eyes. “Thank you, for anything.”

“Anytime,” he promised and walked outside.

The group would likely be getting up soon, Keyleth thought as she once again got comfortable in Grog’s bed. She should probably go back to her room before anyone realized where she’d spent the night.

Not that she was embarrassed, but they would all think it meant something it didn’t and she wasn’t in the mood to explain.

Having said that, the bed smelled like Grog and his pillow still carried some of his body heat; it was an easy enough thing to wrap her arms around it, feeling safe and calm, and fall back to sleep.

#grog strongjaw #keyelth #critical role #grogleth #critical role fic

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zcldrizes-a · 5 years

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idk i just want to know how you feel ,,, do you also think that narratively what was done to dany made no sense because it completely throws away the fact that she was 'special' in the sense that she had dragons for the first time in hundreds of years, aside from the character assassination? like dany being the dragon queen and the unburnt & mother of dragons is thrown away when it seemed like it was supposed to ... mean something?

honestly nonnie, i feel a lot of things right now and let me try my best to explain them as much as i can, because i have to be honest, i spent most of yesterday very empty following that finale, and now i think i’m finally ready to begin putting some of it into words.

the first is that i just feel like d&d missed the mark entirely when it came to her characterisation. if she was always meant to go mad - why did they have to spend the entire season isolating her from everyone in order to make this happen? it’s made very clear to us that she has no one - she’s at odds with half her advisors, and when that’s not the case, do they make much attempt ( outside of jorah ) to talk to her in a capacity that isn’t related to “my queen”? even jon himself ignores her and avoids her, and then after the reveal that he is her last family, still manages to isolate her but now it’s worse because we know that she was already aware she would be betrayed for him to be king by sheer fact that he has the rightful claim. a storyline which now, in the end, makes no sense other than narrative use to push her closer to madness, might i add? we see her lose her oldest friend, followed by her second dragon to die at the hands of an enemy, we see her lose missandei, we know at this point her army took the hardest hits ( until they respawned in the season finale because where the fuck did they all come from ) and the only thing she wants at this point is to be recognised as something other than “queen” because she’s realising that’s the only thing that she’s seen as, and we get literally none of it.

this was a woman who was loved beyond the narrow sea - a woman who earned her loyalties, even ins how canon. we only need to look at missandei in season 7 - “she’s not our queen because of some king we never knew; she’s the queen we chose” - or tyrion in season 7 - “she protects people from monsters” - to see that her actions were revered there because they were selfless. and suddenly we get closer to this goal that she’s wanted all her life, and in the space of the last few episodes, she physically takes hit, after hit, after hit, on top of the mental trauma of her isolations all through her time in the north, and it just felt so forced as a justification for her going mad so that they - the writers - would cop less critique,

a lot of people keep saying that in the books there’s many more hints for it, but for as many hints of the targaryen madness ( and can i just say on the “madness” - what the fuck is this madness meant to be? clearly targaryens aren’t born bad - viserys took the final loss of giving up his mother’s crown for him to be cruel, and we see they literally have to force it on dany to trigger her “madness”. let me pose a question: is this “madness” or is this just grief and anger and the desire to hurt someone who hurt you, and if so, why do we conflate the two? ) we get as many hints of the opposite. ( Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. “I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by," ) so for this to be the ending to all of the special things she did, just...? i have to be honest, i thought her destiny books wise would be to die as per the nissa nissa / azor ahai prophecy, and i would have been happy with that.

i would have been happy seeing her dying trying to make a better world, but instead we get a forced death because the show wanted to convey that she “wasn’t done” and wanted to continue her fights elsewhere in breaking the wheel, and it just made no narrative sense to me beyond needing to continue being the final trigger in her descent to “madness”. she is used as a plot device to justify jon still being good, and to justify how good and selfless these men are - did tyrion not kill his lover in jealous rage, after her betrayal, with his bare hands? his own father? did jon not also kill innocent people?

and no, i’m not justifying her acts at king’s landing, it’s more of just a question that even before her acts there, she was already being questioned as going mad - why is it ambitious women are “mad” but ambitious men are “fulfilling their destiny”? and on that, let me reiterate, we went from two competing female power claims in cersei and daenerys, to a council of mostly men who literally laugh at democracy as an ideal, before placing a man in power - and their justification is that he has a good story to tell? that he won’t succumb to emotion? wasn’t the critique on dany and cersei that they were cold and calculating, and yet simultaneously, that they were hysterical, and deranged, and mad? why do we punish women for being emotionless and emotional simultaneously, but we don’t critique their male counterparts? yes, it’s a feudal world and gender roles are still a thing - but this is a show divergent of those books, where we’ve seen modern ideals thrust in before, and at a time where we need women the most, we reverted back to men being the heroes of the story. already, i’ve seen posts and comments on videos from men literally laughing about dany’s rape and saying she deserved it, after what she did. i’m sorry, what? this is 2019, how are we still using sexual violence to hurt women even in retrospect, i’m?

and finally, literally just, i fucking hate the message behind it all. this was a survivor of rape and abuse, who in the end, was a victim to her own mental state and paranoias, and who died yes loved, but unaware of that love. what does that say to so many of us, who resonate with her story? how am i, as someone who has been through my own traumas similar or different, who saw her as someone to look up to, as someone who was special and strong, meant to reoncile that? she wanted to break the wheel and build a better world - is the wheel not in place, still? the iron throne is gone, but we still have a king? we still have lords and ladies deciding who will take the throne next? we have privileged people on the council - and for some of them, underqualified but chosen just because they happened to be there? if the dragons were born for the first time in years, what for? the war against the dead? because she got no acknowledgment for that. what was the point of daenerys targaryen, except for to rid the world of cersei lannister? how did we come from villains like joffrey and ramsay and euron to the ultimate villain being a victim of rape and trauma and abuse? how could the writers even back that development and turn her into that?

and maybe that’s why i’m so bitter at everyone who got their happy endings. i can’t cheer about sansa as queen of the north, because it’s such a sharp contrast to what dany lost. i can’t cheer on jon coming back to the wall, because the only way we got that ending was to destroy dany’s. i can’t be happy about the new council, or the king, when daenerys got so destroyed. and the thing is, i can’t justify her actions or support her, because what she did was wrong, and there’s no explanation behind it, and they’ll never be canon on this blog for that reason alone, that i can’t comprehend why she’d do it - but i also can’t abandon her, or hate her, and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to. one of the writers for the show said now whenever you watch the show, you’ll see her story as the rise of a villain instead upon rewatch, and it just fucking breaks my heart that she’s reduced to that. it’s a time for wolves, but they killed the dragons to get to that point, and i fucking hate it. so in summary nonnie, i don’t understand the point. and i’m hurt, and i’m sad, and i’m numb, and at this point, i have nothing else to say except that i hope george takes the overwhelming backlash from her developments this series and gives her the ending she deserves.

#ii. asks. » you're in the great game now. «#anti got #this turned out longer than expected but oh well #long post #Anonymous

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dillydedalus · 5 years

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august reading

minus my women in translation month reads, because i’m still working on the last one but want to include it... that wrap-up will come in a few days once i’m done with the last book.

not all dead white men: classics and misogyny in the digital age, donna zuckerberg classicist donna zuckerberg (facebook dude’s sister!) talks about how the alt-right, pick-up artists, incels etc. use the classics to assert & justify their misogyny and racism & portray themselves as the inheritors/saviours of western civilisation etc. the main examples she looks at are stoicism, ovid’s ars amatoria, and ancient narratives about sexual violence, which were all really interesting, but i feel like this could have been expanded a lot. 3.5/5

magic for liars, sarah gailey fun & cool crime story about a murder at a secret magical school (school nurse cut in half in magical library!), answering the burning question of what would happen if petunia dursley became a somewhat dysfunctional PI & had to solve a magical murder at hogwarts, where lily is a teacher. 3/5

the lie tree, frances hardinge frances hardinge writes the kind of middle grade/YA books i wish i could have read between like 10-14, where the world is spooky and the girls are angry spiteful stubborn resourceful sneaky things. i loved a skinful of shadows and i loved the lie tree, where curious snake girl (not literally it’s not that kind of a book) has to investigate her scandal-hounded natural scientist father’s death by spreading lies on the miserable island he died on and literally feeding them to spooky science-defying tree - and faith is very good at lying, and very angry, and very much willing to drag the whole island down with her. read for spooky trees, fake ghosts, and victorian male natural scientists being dumb and sexist & victorian female (& thus secret) natural scientist being smart & awesome. 4.5/5

the dead ladies project: exiles, expats & ex-countries, jessa crispin i have been at turns in love & really annoyed with crispin’s 2012 essay on william james, berlin & her own mental breakdown (x) since uh..... 2012 - it says some really interesting things about berlin’s capital-i Image as the city for self-destructive broke & weird messes, it’s very quotable, while also being some of the most irritating Anglophone Expat in Berlin Bullshit ever concocted (’we have surprisingly affordable rents’ sure didn’t age well.....) and saying almost nothing about the actual city outside of the Expat Bubble (apparently every single person in berlin is here because they feel like a failure.... YALL SOME PEOPLE JUST LIVE HERE). this book, structured around crispin’s soul-searching trip around europe, with each city being discussed in connection with an artist/writer/artist’s wife/etc who lived there, opens with that essay and i’m still torn. the thing is, crispin is smart & well-read & occasionally capable of some interesting insight & good writing..... she is also at times utterly insufferable, ranting at length about how she despises women who perform learned helplessness & prioritise men over everything else only to turn around & do the same fucking thing over & over, incl. going on endlessly about her torturous affair with a married writer, performing her ‘broke but independent woman traveller’ while uh.... staying at a friend’s luxurious farmhouse in switzerland for free... at one point she says she never felt at home in kansas bc based on her looks people don’t believe she’s really from kansas & constantly ask her where she’s REALLY from because.... y’all.... while she’s a good-looking white woman she has an ANGULAR FACE. sure jan. there is so much cool stuff in here, and i wish crispin had kept some most of the personal stuff out of it. 2/5

mansfield park, jane austen hmmmm... austen is always good but this feels like it’s maybe the one novel of hers that is most negatively affected by values dissonance in that its morality feels like it’s from an alien culture which considers a private theatre performance to be the very height of impropriety (aka regency england apparently); as a result, fanny, a passive, timid, neglected girl of strong convictions often comes across as a moralistic prig (i will make no excuses for edmund, who’s just a patronising sanctimonious prig outright). there’s a quiet sort of triumph in fanny’s integrity & conviction in the face of a literal campaign of harrassment from everyone in her life including the dude she’s in love with to marry a reforming (maybe) rake & i love her for that, but her triumph in returning to mansfield park elevated in the esteem of everyone there (except aunt norris who is delightfully vile) feels empty considering that these are the same people who previously neglected her. also edmund sucks. 3/5 #justice4marycrawford #mary/fannyOTP #alsoarewegonnatalkabouttheslavery #guessnot

fool’s quest (fitz & the fool #2), robin hobb the first one in this trilogy was pretty much slow-paced set-up and character development... this one is much better: there’s a lot going on & the character development feels much more organic & complex - fitz seems to have come down from Peak Dumbass a bit & i really liked how it developed shun (shine!!!) and lant, who felt really one-dimensionally awful last book. also there are so many moments when the farseer family really comes thru for fitz & i cried literally every single time. so yeah. this one’s great, can’t wait for the next one but i also really don’t want it to be over :/ 4/5

what matters in jane austen, john mullan fun little collection of essays looking at specific details and minutae and their meaning/importance in austen’s work - like, how old are the characters (incl. age differences), how do characters address each other, what do games do they play, what about the servants, etc. don’t expect deep litcrit but it’s fun. 2.5/5

dead mountain: the untold true story of the dyatlov pass incident, donnie eichar hello i’m fred & i am obsessed with mountaineering disasters. the dyatlov pass incident refers to a night in 1959 where 9 russian hikers died in the ural mountains after they left their tent half-dressed without shoes for ~mysterious reasons. it’s pretty creepy & theories about it run from ‘avalanche’ to ‘animal [yeti] attack’ to ‘aliens and/or soviet conspiracy theory’. eichar too is super obsessed w/ this mystery and even went to the ural mountains & the dyatlov pass to investigate, which sadly makes for the least interesting (and possibly the longest) part of this book (the other timelines are the dyatlov group hike & the investigations after their deaths). the ‘59 timelines are both interesting tho & provide a good look into how weird the whole thing is. i enjoyed this, but i wish he had cut the endless chapters of him investigating, which is mostly russians being like ‘idk man aliens/radioactivity/secret govt agents?’ and him hiking around in a lot of snow, neither of which really added to his theory or my enjoyment. 2/5

if beale street could talk, james baldwin baldwin’s prose is staggeringly brilliant as always. this is a story about a young black couple (tish, who is the narrator, and fonny) in the 70s who are planning to move together and marry when fonny is wrongly arrested for rape by a racist cop with a grudge; tish and her family try to get him out, especially once tish realises that she’s pregnant. tish is a great narrator, at the same time kind of naive and soft, and full of world-weary cynicism about white institutions and racism, and her narrative voice at times drifts in and out of other characters’ minds, which i found an interesting effect. as many baldwin’s novels this is full of rage & violence & tenderness & tiny sparks of hope. 4/5

lady susan, jane austen epistolary novella about a 35-year-old lady susan, a scheming, ruthless, not-so-grieving widow, who is trying to get her timid daughter frederica married to a buffoon. while staying with her sweetly clueless brother-in-law vernon and trying to win over his much more suspicious wife, she makes the wife’s brother reginald (lol) fall in love with her. a very different protag and story for austen & while the end can’t quite commit to either punishing susan very much or letting her triumph, it is a lot of fun. 3/5

on a sunbeam, tillie walden this is an absolutely beautiful (the colours!) graphic novel about a spaceship crew (the spaceship is a fish) who fly around & restore old space buildings. it’s also a story about a romance between two young girls at a boarding school (in space) and about found families and deep space and there’s not a single man in this, just women and elliot, who’s nonbinary. lovely, dreamy and completely gorgeous. want me a fish spaceship. 4/5

between birthday books and birthday giftcards i also acquired uh.... 12 new books??? which is INSANE. i’m not committing to a book buying ban but i should probably chill a lil in the next few months.

#crispin talks about potsdam as the outskirts of berlin and like.... it's a whole different city #the books i read #austen august didn't quite pan out but i'm planning to read one of her novels per month #i am planning to skip p&p bc i read it last year but.... it's really good y'all

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