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sunshine-on-my-mind · 3 years

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New Venture

this is for @nakedrogers esme’s 2k writing challenge. (Congratulations on 2K!!!!)

one-shot (sfw)

pairing: Frank Adler x Reader

AU: Bookstore owner AU

Prompts: 13. “i told you not to read that.” ; 23. “i wish you did.”

Words: 1591

Warnings: no warnings as such. FLUFF!!!! Well Frank Adler being super cute is a warning in itself.

a/n: this is my first ever fic so hope you all like this, do reblog if you enjoy reading this. I chose Frank Adler for my first work because i love him so much.

i do not own the characters Frank and Mary. not my GIF.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK OR POST IT ANYWHERE.

“I told you not to read that”, this was followed by Mary’s deep sigh. “Frank please just a little more”. Oh well, it’s the same old situation, Mary wants to read more books on mathematics but Frank thinks it’s enough for one day, she has been doing so since they opened the bookstore this morning. This is a new venture for both Frank and Mary, it has been a year since they opened a little bookstore. They were looking for a fresh start, and it was actually Mary who came up with the idea of a bookstore. Frank had a huge smile and that was a nod to this new venture. “That’s enough for today Mary, come help me” the bookstore was not so busy at this moment. Mary huffs, “why? Do you need help with calculating the money?” Frank won’t ever admit but he admires how snarky and sassy Mary can be at times, that kid is awesome. Frank decides it’s better to not reply and focuses on arranging the bookshelves.

The door chimes stating the arrival of people. Mary greets them. “Welcome!” The two women enter the bookstore. “Hey sweetie, do you know where the thriller section is?” Mary scrunches her nose a little, then points them towards the correct direction. Frank has arranged the bookshelves by now and he moves towards his little desk near the cash register. He sees that one of those women is eagerly going through the books in the thriller section and the other one, seems a little lost, seems out of her element. Should he go help her out? Ask her what she is looking for? He doesn’t want to be pushy but he wants to be helpful. While he is still making the decision Mary swoops in and asks

“Hi, what are you looking for?” The woman gives her a bright warm smile, a smile that will make others smile, just like Frank has smile on his face right now. “I’m just looking around, I’m basically accompanying my friend, thank you for asking, I- um I’m not much of a reader,” the woman said scratching her head a little, the little girl still looking at her, there is a sudden glint of joy in her eyes. “Well what about academic books? Do you like Math? We have quite a variety of books.” The woman is in awe of this child, she is not sure how to say that Math is definitely not her strongest area. She tries to formulate an answer when Frank approaches them. “Hey Mary why don’t you go help out the other customer, she looks quite engrossed in her search, maybe she could use some help? Go on.” Mary excuses herself, mentions where the books on academia are kept and proceeds to help the other customer. The woman doesn’t fail to notice that the little girl has quite a captivating and charming personality, her eyes seem to sparkle. Frank notices how this woman seems to be in awe of Mary, also how she is fidgeting a little with her purse. “So, not a reader?” she turns towards him. He is taller than her, and what magnificent blue eyes, one can really get lost in them, probably she got lost in them too because she is trying to fetch an answer but words don’t come out. “Not much into talking as well I guess?” She is broken out of her haze and almost babbles “um no, oh no I am sorry, yeah I am not much of a reader but I talk, I can talk a lot at times actually.” she smiles. That warm smile again. Frank smiles back, and then there is a minute of silence but it’s not awkward, it’s the good kind of silence where you are enjoying the moment.

“What about fiction or maybe non-fiction? Poetry, short stories? Do you like comics?” she laughs at this, he is really trying. “Well I have read a few comics and short stories. I mean I have tried to read books but I haven’t been able to finish most of them, wow definitely not a conversation one should have with a bookstore owner but yeah I guess I haven’t been able to connect with books, or maybe I am just dumb.” she shrugs a little. “Hey that’s alright, I too am not a huge bookworm but I do enjoy reading when I get time. But we all have our own interests.” she wants to say something but maybe she shouldn’t, what if he thinks it’s stupid? She doesn’t want to embarrass herself. He understands she wants to say something and nods his head as if to encourage her to go on. “Alright so there is something that I enjoy reading a lot. I love reading Fan fiction. It’s like I am already connected to the characters and thus reading more about them, exploring different storylines, the whole concept of ‘What if?’ intrigues me.” She realizes she doesn’t say this out loud often, she tries to read his expressions, well he is smiling and not in a mocking way so she continues. “You know there are so many talented Fanfic writers out there, some of the stories are extremely beautiful. So yeah as you said, we all have our own interests.” Frank is charmed by her, right now she has joy in her eyes, he hasn’t come across someone before who has shared this interest of reading fan fiction, she seems passionate about this, and it’s charming and beautiful. Yes she is beautiful. “That seems super interesting.” he hopes to see that warm smile again and there it is. He smiles back. “Well I am glad you think so, not many people do. It’s not that I tell many people about this interest of mine, still. By the way that girl, um Mary? she seems so amazing, not to sound corny but ‘there is something about Mary’, she is so charming!” he chuckles “Well I see what you did there, and yeah she is amazing, she is my niece and we both recently started this new venture of a bookstore, it was her idea”. Well a good idea indeed.

“Oh look at me where are my manners? Hi! I am Frank” Before she could say her name Mary calls out for Frank. The other customer has selected her books and she is waiting by the cash register to buy them. “Well I guess it’s time to go.” She seems sad, why? She is not someone who can talk with strangers but she was enjoying this conversation. She gets so awkward while talking to someone she doesn’t know but this was different, he made her feel comfortable, she liked talking to him, she wants to talk more, why couldn’t her friend take some more time? They move towards the cash register, “Oh I am Y/n” he repeats her name, wanted to see how it feels. Once done packing the books, her friend pays him the money. It’s time to go. Frank think about something quickly, say something, it seems like now or never. Come on they are about to leave, “Hey!” Frank runs towards them, “If you are looking for any particular book, you can call us to check the availability, or we can try to get it for you if not available. Here, take this card it has the store’s number and um- my number” he looks at Y/n with hopeful eyes. Is he trying to give her his number? He kinda seems out of her league, is there a chance he enjoyed talking to her too? Y/n gets this sudden surge of confidence, which is unusual for her, and decides to ask directly. “Are you trying to give me your number?” Frank is flustered, he is trying to come up with something when she says “I wish you did” and it’s accompanied with that beautiful warm smile. Frank cannot hold back the huge smile that forms automatically on his face. “I was, I uh- liked talking to you, and would like to know you more.” Well now they aren’t the only people smiling, the other two have smiles on their faces too due to this interaction, though there smiles are more like cheeky smirks. Y/n takes out her phone, saves his number and texts him standing right there. He checks his phone “Y/n: I would like to know you more too, looking forward to it” He nods signaling the chain of texts that will be exchanged soon. Y/n and her friend open the door to go out when Mary excitedly says “Come again!” Frank sees her smile once again, the one that he will be seeing a lot very soon. “I will.” Y/n says and her friend laughs, she waves and they wave back and with this they leave. Mary is looking at Frank who is still looking at the door. “See Frank, I told you, a bookstore will be a great new venture” she smirks.

#esmes2kwritingchallenge #frank adler #frank adler x reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler gifted #frank adler fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #oneshot #fluff #writing challenge #first fanfic

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etherealxgenie · 3 years

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Why ‘Adrien is Oblivious’ is a Misconception || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for a ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. Critiques are welcomes, Flames will be deleted. Other than that, enjoy.)

So I know I said I don’t normally get involved when it comes to the Miraculous fandom, but there’s always one thing that’s been bothering me from nearly the beginning since the series began.

Even before I had the ugly divorce from the love square after Desperada, I always found it hard to believe with the way Marinette behaved around Adrien was completely unnoticeable. And because of the way Adrien seems to not take note of it, fans (pure and toxic) automatically make the assumption that he’s oblivious or dumb.

But did people ever take the time to divulge why and to view it in his perspective? Aside from the excuse of bad writing, I think there could be other reasons as to why Adrien doesn’t acknowledge her behavior. And she doesn’t hide her feelings around him either while wearing the mask either, so far that she makes the same stuttering speeches and frantic hand motions.

But here’s a list of reasons for Adrien to have which can be plausible:

1) He IGNORES it.   

Now before you go and start bashing the poor boy (god knows the fandom lacks the sympathy), keep in mind Adrien IS a celebrity of Paris. I dunno exactly how the celebrity lifestyle maybe different for the U.S, but I’m pretty sure this would have to do of how he was taught. As the face of Gabriel and with the reaction from several fans alone, Adrien was probably told by Gabriel in regards about fans and how they would react to him and how he has to ignore such barbaric measures. And given the way he sees fans react to him (Gorizilla), he believes his father is right.

In regards of Marinette, he hopes to make a friend for her instead of seeing her as one of his fans, even if he appreciates the support.

2) He’s looking for FRIENDSHIP, not ROMANCE

Adrien is starting a new chapter in his life and is looking for some normality at his new school. More so, he’s looking to make more friends. There could be to some reasons why for one of wanting a better friendship than what Chloe or Felix had set an example for. Mainly of course for the fact that Adrien is lonely and looking for companionship of his choice.

But he’s not in the rush for a straight out relationship.

I know what you’re thinking: “But he’s asked out Ladybug constantly! What the hell are you talking about?”. Well truth be told, Adrien as Chat may just be looking for an excuse to hang out with her. There’s no denial he’s attracted to her personality or admires her, but he DOES wants to get to know her first. Which is something Marinette fails to let happen as both herself AND Ladybug.

Now it is true Marinette has done things to help and may know stuff about him (either through stalking or researching online), but she hasn’t taken the time to get to know him on a personal level. She doesn’t know if he’s an anime lover, what he dreams of doing or how he likes puns. And as Ladybug when he show his more true self, she automatically rejects him with the somewhat reasonable excuse fear for identities. I’ll leave that alone as I’ll do another thing on identities later.

So in regards of Marinette’s ‘love’ (obsession), Adrien is just looking for friendship with her and not love. He’s not ready for a full on relationship yet where he’s starting fresh on friendships, which is why dating Kagami didn’t work out (I didn’t need to watch S4 to predict that). She pressured him into a relationship and expected them to be the perfect couple. It was clear he was not ready and yet seemed to ignore it anyway for her feelings towards him. For a healthy relationship to work, you need to think about the ‘we’ and not ‘me’ and to take time.

3) He’s SOCIALLY CHALLENGED

We don’t know how it really was when Emilie was around, but it seemed regardless Adrien had a strict childhood. His father, Gabriel Agreste, seems to have the main say of his life to control him as he saw fit, to mold Adrien the way HE wants him too. And because of such strictness, Gabriel is the kind of person to only tell Adrien the needed lesson to keep him under his thumb along with keeping him isolated.

Similar of how Judge Claude Frollo did to Quasimodo. Just as Mother Gothel did to Rapunzel and Cassandra.

And for those reasons alone, Adrien is left without the majority skills needed to make it on his own, including how to socialize and interact in a way with certain people. The only socializing skills he had probably was how to interact in regards of fans or how to avoid bad publicity. Something enough in regards to being a celebrity. Gabriel didn’t nor has planned for Adrien to have any interaction with others beyond that.

This particular reason alone helps understand his plight more and why 90% salt/bashing/hate thrown at him is completely unnecessary. Especially during ‘Chameleon’ and ‘Ladybug’.

Adrien is like Quasimodo and Rapunzel, being thrust into the new world after escaping their tower only to discover many things they’re not familiar with. Imagine being at the age of 14 but your parents haven’t been the best and haven’t taught you how to socialize with certain people. Then the teen could act in a certain way with anyone: friends, adults and even strangers in which they teen can be taken advantage of.

But how does he adapt quickly to being Chat Noir, you ask? Adrien probably had only but fantasies to fall back on whenever he’s isolated and alone. Probably even dreamed of a superhero rescuing him or taking him away to a new life where he’s free to be himself. His greatest nightmare shown in “Sandboy” is nothing about Ladybug or anyone else, but being locked away in his room for the rest of his life.

He’s no doubt a secret comic geek and probably dreamed of being a hero himself. Chat Noir is far from perfect, but he catches on of how a true hero should act. He’s also adapts quickly and is perceptive of behaviors. Like the way Ladybug and Fu doesn’t tell him the entire truth of what they plan for the future and try to isolate him from it. And between the two, Chat Noir perfects more of hiding his identity. Not for the fact of probably reading about it, but because Chat is someone he always wanted to be that he can’t as Adrien.

So the next time if you observe the show or read any works in regarding Adrien’s behavior and before you chalk it up as oblivious, dumb, stupid or selfish… how about you dive into his perspective and try to understand more of his side? There’s two sides to every story.

#adrien sugar #marinette neutral #kagami neutral #miraculous ladybug #miraculous why #artist opinion #artist speaks #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien deserves better #kagami tsurugi #stockhom syndrome #gabriel agreste #//i'm just tired of people making this excuse for adrien

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delicioussshame · 3 years

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Socialite AU, last part! I finished a thing! Also posted on AO3 now that it’s done.

Shen Yuan had expected that the beginning of the school year would have kept Luo Binghe too busy for them to see each other more than, oh, about once a month, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Luo Binghe is obviously very smart, so maybe that’s why he can keep up so easily. His studies sure don’t seem to stop him from having Shen Yuan over at least once a week.

Luo Binghe says it’s because he cannot trust Shen Yuan to feed himself properly, something Shen Yuan himself has profusely denied. First, he’s a fully grown adult, he can cook! Second, if he doesn’t feel like it, he can order in, or pay someone to cook for him. There are no issues there! He doesn’t need to be minded.

Not that he minds being minded. Shen Yuan has eaten more than his share of delicious food, and Luo Binghe’s stands above the rest. There are worst things than travelling to Luo Binghe’s apartment and eating a freshly cooked meal.

They don’t talk about novels as much though. This is an area where Luo Binghe had to step back in favor of reading assigned manuals. Shen Yuan has spent more than one evening reading trash by himself while Luo Binghe sat nearby, throwing the occasional question his way as he studied. Not that it seemed like he needed the help.

When does he see his college friends, Shen Yuan has no idea. Luo Binghe always waves away any concern of his on this matter. Seriously, Shen Yuan is a bit worried. Does he not fit in? It seems impossible that someone as charming, not to mention as affluent, as him would be ostracised. Even Shen Yuan had managed to gather a small group of friends during his college years. Luo Binghe must have done the same, no?

If he hasn’t, his fellow students are missing out.

In that case, Shen Yuan will take him out it their place. It wouldn’t do for Binghe to be lonely.

Not that that’s likely, considering how popular he is in their circle. As far as his female compatriots are concerned, Luo Binghe is now Beijing’s most eligible bachelor.

It’s a role that suits Luo Binghe’s public persona to a tee. He flutters between ladies as if he were born into in, flirting with one and laughing with another one with an ease Shen Yuan cannot help but envy, considering his own limited contacts with the other sex.

If those interactions often ended with a pretend fight between them, neither of them would complain about it. It was fun. Much better than insulting real people and wondering later if he’d gone too far, if he’d seriously hurt someone whose crime had only been to be born in a shitty family and raised in a similarly shitty fashion. He and Binghe sometimes rehearsed lines late into the night before a party, sentences that were meant to be biting insults turning into uncontrollable laughter.

Everything was going well. Shen Yuan’s reputation was becoming so toxic it had been weeks since the last time one of his fellow socialites had dared to speak to him, which is how Shen Yuan liked it. As for Luo Binghe, he was both admired for standing up to mean Shen Yuan, and pitied for always being the receptor of his ire. Binghe was more than talented enough to use all of it to his advantage.

All in all, everything was going perfectly.

Until now. “Excuse me?” says Shen Yuan with the coldest, most disparaging tone he has managed yet.

Sha Hualing, sadly, doesn’t seem impressed. “You can deny it all you want. It’s obvious. It must drive you crazy, seeing him with us and knowing you’ll never have a chance. He’s so good, too. Made me scream so loud I’m sure the neighbors heard. Not that you’ll ever find out yourself. Keep pulling his pigtails. He knows, he’s just too nice to tell how pathetic you are.”

Shen Yuan cannot convey to Sha Hualing how utterly from left field her theory is, and how completely baffled he is, without breaking his carefully maintained aura of disgusted condescension, but he really wishes he could. “You’re insane. How could I be attracted to… that.” He winces in his head. Too much? There are probably zero people that don’t feel at least a little attracted to Luo Binghe in this room.

But if there was one, it would be him. Luo Binghe is his cute disciple and friend, not his meal ticket. Leave that to Sha Hualing and her posse.

Her answering laugh is haughty. “Not even you believe that. Anyway, I just wanted to rub it in, but now that that’s done, I got better things to do than talking to you, like him. Fuck off.”

He flips her off as she leaves. Not his most elegant moment, but not the most elegant situation.

How the fuck did she get into her sick mind that he was into Luo Binghe. She should have thought they hated each other! That they wanted to tear each other’s throats open, not tear each other’s clothes off!

… Holy fuck their characters have ust, haven’t they? Danmei isn’t his playing field, but some things are universal across gender. There is an undeniable pull to seeing two hot people seeming like they’re two seconds away from punching each other when it also seems like they might be two seconds away from… something else.

It’s the only possible interpretation. They haven’t been careful enough, and now their roles are tainted by bad tropes!

Shen Yuan is going to have to adapt his persona a bit. Let himself run even colder. Less hate, more indifference, maybe? Or maybe he could just leave Luo Binghe alone for a few parties.

It wouldn’t work! It would seem like he chickened out after Sha Hualing confronted him! It would make it appear weak!

Could he make up a girlfriend?

Nah, no one would believe it.

Fuck, he’s going to need Luo Binghe’s help on this one.

_________________

“She what!?”

“Thinks I keep picking fights with you because I’m trying to get your attention and that I’d really like for you to bend me over something, probably.”

Luo Binghe blushes bright red.

Shen Yuan restrains his mirth. Nice to see he’s not the only one terribly embarrassed by the situation!

Yes, pinching those red cheeks would only make things worse, but he’s still very tempted.

Shen Yuan soldiers on. “Binghe shouldn’t worry about things too much. His reputation is safe. Considering how well he gets on with the fairer sex,” and yes, now Shen Yuan knows way more than he ever wanted to know about Sha Hualing’s sex life, but that’s life,” no one will doubt him. If he has no idea, I’ll think of something. It’s not his problem.”

“Shizun’s problems are my problems! He wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me!”

Aww, Binghe, why is your indignation so cute!” Don’t blame yourself. We both agreed to the plan. It’s no one’s fault.”

Luo Binghe looks down, obviously still embarrassed. “I really have no idea where she got that. Shizun never appears to be attracted to me.”

“Who knows how Sha Hualing thinks. She probably watches too much porn.” He wouldn’t be surprised, considering how low-class she acted.

A second later, he catches his mistake. If Luo Binghe is… seeing her, he shouldn’t be that mean to her in his presence. “Sorry for insulting your… friend.” He doesn’t think they’re officially dating? Sha Hualing would never shut up about it, and anyway Luo Binghe wouldn’t have as much time for Shen Yuan if he was serious about someone. It’s probably just hormones raging.

Luo Binghe shakes his head. “Shizun shouldn’t apologise! She’s the one who was this rude! Implying Shizun doesn’t know how to court someone, or that he’d need such a ridiculous approach when a few words would be enough for him to have anyone! What a stupid woman.”

It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to be embarrassed. Luo Binghe is pushing the hero worship a little too far here. He’s got way more experience in that department than Shen Yuan will ever get, probably. “Well, if you don��t like her, maybe choose someone better as a partner? You could have anyone. I know it’s none of my business, and I guess she’s attractive, but really, so are many others who don’t share her… fiery temperament.”

If he were honest, he’d just tell Binghe he deserves better.

Much, much better. Didn’t he see her chatting with Liu Mingyan the other day? Now that’s a woman worthy of his Binghe, almost his equal in all fields.

Not that he needs to find someone just yet. He should take his time, and find someone he likes.

Luo Binghe snorts. “I would never choose her.”

Shen Yuan blinks. “Didn’t you?”

Luo Binghe looks wounded. “Why would you think that? I would never be with someone this cruel to Shizun!”

“But she said… oh.” Shen Yuan is an idiot. Why, why did he, even for a second, believe what that snake said? “Binghe must let me apologise. I’ve been stupid and have believed her when she said you and her were… involved.”

“Shizun mustn’t believe her! She lies!”

Shen Yuan pats Luo Binghe’s back gently. “I don’t! I don’t. She lied. I don’t believe her anymore. Of course Binghe has better tastes than this. I should have known.”

Luo Binghe raises his chin. “I do. I have the best tastes.”

Shen Yuan lets a smile appears on his face. “You do. After all, you have chosen me to guide you.”

Luo Binghe nods with almost comical vigour. “Yes!”

So! Cute! Shen Yuan wants to give him a hug!

He won’t, because he’s the dignified older friend.

Who reads bad online novels, but let’s not linger on that. “So, what do we do about her imagination? Because she cannot keep a secret to save her life, so I expect people will talk about it the next time we attend the same event.”

“…Does Shizun want… a girlfriend?”

What does that have to do with anything. “If I meet the right person, sure. Why?”

“Does it matter what they think? They never cared about Shizun to begin with. Who cares if they think he’s attracted to me. It doesn’t change a thing.”

Well, yes, but. “It makes me look pretty pathetic. It’s not exactly a fun reputation to have.”

“What does?”

“That I want someone and the best thing I can do about it is insulting them? It does make me look like a kindergartener.”

An unholy light appears in Luo Binghe’s eyes. “So what if that wasn’t the best thing you had done?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Shizun feels pathetic because he doesn’t like the idea that people think he wants someone and he doesn’t know how to get them, right? But what if he did?”

Shen Yuan is very confused right now. “Binghe?”

“We knew each other before that first party, right? So I let them know that. We could be bitter exes!”

Shen Yuan looks at him, completely frozen. “Binghe, no.” That is 100% a terrible idea.

“Why not? It would explain everything! Why we’re so mean to each other while I’m nice to everyone else, why you’re worst to me, and why there’s tension between us!”

There is no tension between them! They’re playing characters! “People would think you’re gay!”

“I’ve been flirting with women all the time. People would think I’m bi.”

“You’ve just told me you haven’t been dating! What if they think you’re hung up on me, who, by the way, is a man!”

“Is it that bad? I wouldn’t mind. Shizun is someone I would certainly be hung on if he had left me.”

“So I’m the one who left you now? That makes even less sense! Why would someone like me leave someone like you! Of course Binghe is the one who left!”

“If I were dating Shizun, I would never leave him! He has to be the one who left me!”

Shen Yuan rubs his temples. He knew the conversation wouldn’t be simple, but it has reached unprecedented levels of nonsense. “Let’s forget who left who. We’re not doing that. Binghe would ruin his reputation to only slightly better mine. That makes no sense.”

Luo Binghe pouts. “It would have worked. I would have made a very good ex-boyfriend.”

Shen Yuan pats his back again. “I’m sure you would have. I, on the other hand, would probably have been terrible at it.”

“Why?”

“How could I have pretended to not only have dated Binghe, but to have separated from him? No one would believe it. My talents aren’t up to the task. I can’t make myself look like a plausible boyfriend to Binghe.”

Luo Binghe sighs. “That’s stupid. Shizun might as well have been my boyfriend lately.”

Shen Yuan feels a headache coming. He can barely follow the logic of this conversation. “Binghe, I don’t understand.”

“Shen Yuan spends most of his evenings with me. I cook for him. He takes me out. We’ve been writing to each other for months. He’s been carefully curating my reading lists for most of those months. He has plenty of reasons why I would be dating him.”

Okay, let’s just ignore most of that. “Nothing you listed has anything to do with the character we play for those society functions? High society Shen Yuan probably only reads classic literature, when he’s not working his high-power job and, I don’t know, checking stocks or playing the guqin. Nothing appealing there. How would we have even met?”

“Via work? Maybe you had a meeting with some executive of my father. Considering my reputation, we probably just had sex and ended up dating later on.”

Shen Yuan tries to imagine being the kind of person who would see Luo Binghe and think he could just hit that.

Impossible. Does not compute. “Look, I’m just going to ignore it. It’s always worked before. We probably shouldn’t change it.”

“But things always staying the same is bad! They must evolve!”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not necessarily. My life has mostly remained the same since I’ve graduated, and it’s perfectly fine.”

Luo Binghe flinches like a kicked puppy. “Is my arrival so unimportant to Shizun?”

Fuck. “No! That’s not what I meant! I mostly meant my romantic life!” Not really, he meant his life his general, but it is quite insulting to Binghe to imply he had no impact on his life, not to mention just an outright lie.

“That, too, should change.”

“It sure won’t if everyone thinks I’m gay.”

Under Luo Binghe’s breath, barely audible to Shen Yuan, “It’s not exactly an impediment.” Then, louder. “Let’s tell them the truth, then.”

Shen Yuan instantly panics. “Binghe, they can’t know the truth, it’ll fuck everythin-“

And that’s when Luo Binghe’s tongue finds its way into Shen Yuan’s mouth.

Shen Yuan’s mind freezes completely.

Luo Binghe keeps on kissing him.

Shen Yuan’s mind keeps trying to reboot.

Luo Binghe pushes back and sighs. “Does Shizun understand now?”

Nope. “…We can’t be exes if we’re kissing?”

“Forget the exes. Let’s just tell them we’re having sex. That’ll be the true part. We’ll just tell them it’s hate sex. I’ll tell them you’re just that good and I can’t resist you. That way, you won’t be pathetic, right?”

Shen Yuan’s slowly rebooting mind cannot decide if the “reputation for being gay” part would outweigh the “reputation for having seduced Luo Binghe” part.

Wait. “We’re having sex?”

Luo Binghe falters. “If you want to? Because I want to. A lot. But we’re pretty much dating and Shen Yuan didn’t seem to realise, so I thought maybe he’s not attracted to me, but you keep acting like I’m the best thing that ever happened to you when really, the reverse is true, and can we date already? Please?”

Shen Yuan opens his mouth.

Shen Yuan closes his mouth.

Shen Yuan tries to understand that, apparently, Luo Binghe has been trying to date him? Him? Luo Binghe? And him? As a couple? That is a thing that is apparently on the table?

Wait, Shen Yuan actually is a person who could have looked and Luo Binghe and have hit that!?

Woah.

“I…”

Luo Binghe’s eyes grow even wider as he waits for Shen Yuan’s response.

As if Shen Yuan ever had the capacity to tell Binghe no.

As if he ever wanted to. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

A second later, he gets an armful of overenthusiastic Binghe trying to choke him with too much tongue.

“But we’re not playing bitter exes.” Shen Yuan really has no belief in his ability to pretend he left Luo Binghe.

That he had him and is devastated he doesn’t anymore, sure. But that he’d manage to be cruel to Luo Binghe about it? There’s no way.

“That’s fine. I like the one with the hate sex much better anyway.”

To be honest, so does Shen Yuan.

_________________

Shen Yuan positions himself in such a way that he can track Luo Binghe’s movements across the room without looking like he’s doing more than reading on his phone.

He can tell from Sha Hualing’s particularly vicious grin that she’s about to deliver what she considers to be a crippling blow to his reputation.

He thrills when the expression melts, replaced by horror as Luo Binghe’s face turn sheepish. He can almost hear his embarrassed tone as he admits to the moral failing that is sleeping with Shen Yuan, universal pariah.

He can distinctly hear the cries of dismay and what he knows are roars of utter jealousy.

None of it shows on his face, but Shen Yuan grins.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #the AU where SY and LBH are both online friends and fellow socialites

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destiniesfic · 3 years

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132 Hours, Chapter 4:

“I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

Read chapter 4 on AO3, or read below:

“You know what?” I ask abruptly, some time later.

Cardan picks up his head. “What?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

His brow furrows, and then he looks vaguely panicked for the first time. “Um, right. Well, it’s not a big space, but I can turn around—”

I sigh. “No. Why don’t you go knock on the door and ask them to take me outside?”

Cardan blinks at me. “Oh,” he says. “You don’t want to try that yourself?”

“You’re the alpha.” I shrug. “They’re more likely to listen to you than to me.”

“Huh. Yeah. Good point.” He looks at me a little longer, head cocked, and then a grin breaks across his face like a sunrise. I feel my cheeks warm and hate that some cruel trick of fate assures that even though I know he is one of the world’s worst human beings, a small, primal part of me will always find him attractive. “How’s it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Bossing me around. Seems to come pretty naturally to you.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t need anyone else reminding me that I’m the world’s worst excuse for an omega. Being valedictorian sealed that. Valerian sealed that. My smart mouth sealed it, too. “Shut up, Greenbriar.”

His grin widens. “That the best you got?”

I glare. “Stop talking if you want the part of you that apparently makes you so ‘superior’ to me to remain intact.”

“A little vague, but we’ll workshop it.” Cardan pushes himself to his feet. With his long legs, it only takes him two strides to cross the room to the door. He glances at me. “If they shoot me, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll cry big, fat tears at your funeral.”

“You’d better write a kick-ass eulogy. You’re a good speaker, right? I don’t really remember graduation.”

Probably drunk, I think. Or high. “Can you just knock?”

Cardan raises his hand and deals the door three hard raps, so loud I nearly jump. He waits a beat, then says, “Oh, no answer. Well, I guess I’ll—”

“What is it?”

This time it’s a woman’s voice that comes through the door. Cardan and I glance at each other. “Bathroom,” he calls. I notice the way he instinctively pitches his voice a little lower, trying to sound more adult, more alpha. “Both of us. And I’m thirsty.”

There’s another pause, then the woman says, “Step back, then. Against the far wall.”

Raising both his hands, Cardan retreats until his back hits the wall. I stand, too, awaiting whatever might happen when the door opens.

But when it does, I am momentarily taken aback. A small woman stands there, holding a different pistol, one better suited to her hand than the man’s. Like the scarred man, she too has a distinct appearance: her brown skin is dappled white from vitiligo, and her hair, too, is a shocking white cloud of curls around her face. She’s pretty, I realize. Totally out of place holding a gun in a hostage situation.

She is holding a gun, though—smaller than her companion’s, so they aren’t trading off—and keeps it fixed on Cardan even when she looks at me. “You first,” she says. “Through the door. Come on.”

I do need to pee, but this is what I really want: a chance to get a glimpse of the space outside of our small room. I nod and take cautious steps, edging myself around her and out of the door, careful not to make any moves that would seem threatening and spook her into firing that gun. But she keeps it trained on Cardan until I am out, which is when she finally turns away from him.

She keeps the barrel of her pistol aimed at me as she secures both locks, and I look around. It is a larger open area and in the middle is a round plastic table with four chairs. In one of the chairs sits the scarred man, playing Solitaire. He looks up. “What’s this?”

“Bathroom break,” says the woman, taking my arm. It’s comical—she’s tiny, barely comes up past my shoulder—but she’s the one with the weapon. I let her lead me through the main space, which is mostly bare. Aside from the table and chairs, I see a mini-fridge plugged into one wall, and stairs that lead out of the basement.

I hope my escort is going to take me upstairs so I can get a sense of the situation, but I am not that lucky. Instead she steers me past the tables to a short hallway on the other side of the main space. There are two doors, and she motions me toward the first one.

“In there,” she says.

I don’t thank her, because what point is there in thanking my abductor? I just open the door and go inside. The bathroom is just a bathroom, but it has toilet paper and a functioning toilet and a sink and paper towels, which is all I need at the moment. There is also a shower stall in the corner with a frosted glass door, which makes me think that this is the basement of a house after all. The room we are being kept in might have once been a very small guest bedroom, or a storage room.

Someone has left bar soap in a little tray in the sink. It looks old and grody, its color faded to an unattractive pale green, but I soap my hands up anyway after I finish my business, and then I splash water on my face. I always keep a spare elastic around my wrist and use it to pull my hair, now an unruly tangle of loose curls, back from my face. I am glad I thought to wear a sweatshirt over my black tank top—I’ll probably need that to stay warm when night falls. I stare at my face in the mirror until my vision splits, and then shake my head. I cannot crack now. I can’t. I will get through this. I have been through worse. A terrible car wreck, a rocky transition to a new home, years of bullying that culminated in something worse. I can survive this, too.

So I go back outside, where the woman takes me by the arm and leads me back to my prison. I don’t protest. I am quiet, and hopefully look dazed and a little scared. No one can know I’m already planning to escape, that I still have my wits about me.

My escort undoes the locks, then pushes me back into the room, and, with the gun trained on Cardan, she says, “All right. You next.”

Cardan, who had taken up his position in the corner again, scrambles to his feet. His eyes flick over me, head to toe, like he’s judging me for looking disheveled when he himself isn’t much better off. I listen for the click of the locks, and am only a little disappointed when I hear them.

Blessedly alone, I sit on the edge of the mattress, inventorying what I know. The main obstacle will be whatever lies upstairs, but I don’t think there is any way to convince our captors to take me out for fresh air. Maybe I can claim a condition? Asthma? I doubt they would buy it.

It only takes a couple of minutes for the door to open and Cardan to come back in, the small woman at his back. He holds a bottle of water fresh from the mini-fridge, condensation already gathering on its surface. I am glad to see the water, hoping I can steal a swig and banish the greasy feeling of cold McMuffin from my mouth once and for all.

“In,” the woman urges Cardan, and he takes another step inside the room so he’s well clear of the door. I think it’s weird that he doesn’t protest, or talk back to her like he did to me, but he had been stalling then, and now there’s actual danger.

I am starting to realize that when he doesn’t hold power in a situation, Cardan Greenbriar is kind of a coward.

This should make me feel smug, but I would rather have a brash alpha to use as a shield while we make our escape. It’ll be fine. Alpha or not, hopefully I have enough brashness for the both of us.

The woman looks from me to Cardan, then back to me. Her eyes look almost kind. “I am sorry about this,” she says. “We were only meant to take him.”

“Um,” I say. “Oh.”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“That’s… good.” I look at Cardan, who seems as baffled as I am. “You could always just let me go?”

The woman sighs. “The boss says it’s not an option anymore. But don’t worry. If you keep cooperating, you won’t be in any danger. Either of you,” she adds, looking at Cardan.

“Good to know,” Cardan says. “Although I’m not sure why I should trust the promise of a person who kidnapped and drugged us.”

Her lip twitches. “Fair enough,” she says, and then she closes the door and locks it.

We both exhale our relief. Cardan sits back down in his corner, takes a large swig of water, then screws on the cap and rolls the bottle across the floor to me. “Good thinking,” he says. “One, because it would suck to have to pee on the floor, but two because now we have a sense of where we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, only half-paying attention. I unscrew the bottle cap and take a sip of cool, clean water. Then I lower my voice. “I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

He frowns, but somehow doesn’t sound surprised when he just says, “Oh.”

“Haven’t you noticed? They’re only scared of you. They only train the gun on you. They don’t think of me…” I shrug one shoulder. “Well, at all, but definitely not as a threat. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As far as they know, I chose the wrong boy to kiss on a beach.”

“Yeah.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. So I’m the big, bad alpha… and the decoy, while you slip under the radar. And then I get to follow you, maybe. If we’re lucky.”

I am surprised to find that I feel a little bad for him. A few hours ago, I would have been fine leaving him to rot, but then we spoke more words to each other than we have maybe in our entire lives, and now I’m not so sure. I say, “You probably get to follow me, it’s just not a guarantee. But I still think it’s worth trying.”

“Anything is,” he says, surprising me. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“They’re not wearing masks.”

I stare at him for a moment, then dread pools at the bottom of my stomach, a cold egg someone’s cracked open in my chest. “Either they’re consummate professionals who’ve managed to wipe themselves from every database, or…”

“Or we’re not supposed to be around to tell anyone what we’ve seen.” Cardan’s mouth presses into a thin line, grimmer and more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Okay,” I say, trying to ignore my heartbeat as it speeds up. “Okay, let’s—okay. So we make our plan and carry it out. That’s what we do.”

“We carry out our plan,” he says, a gloomy echo, “or die trying.”

Silence falls over the room like a blanket of snow, but I take a flamethrower to it by asking, “Really?”

“What?”

“Being dramatic doesn’t help. We have to focus on getting out of here. So.” I wave my hand. “Stop that. No one’s going to kill you, except maybe me if you keep getting on my nerves.”

He looks at me, his eyes darker now, in the unlit basement, than they were even last night on the beach. “Who’s going to stop them from killing us? You? A little omega girl who doesn’t know when to quit?”

“I’m not little,” I snap. God, why is he like this? “And yeah, it’s a good thing I don’t know when to quit, because apparently that’s all that stands between you and suicidal sulking. So stop being so Shakespearean tragedy and help me.”

“I could never do theater,” Cardan muses aloud, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Wasn’t alpha enough for me, apparently.”

I frown at him. “Plenty of alphas do theater. Our school had a great theater program.” I would know—I volunteered as a stagehand enough times as a freshman and sophomore. It was something else to put on a college application, and I liked moving in the dark, not being seen but making everything run smoothly. But eventually I had to stop, too. Madoc never said outright that it was a waste of time, but…

“My brother didn’t like it,” Cardan says, like he’s finishing my thought. He picks at some loose plaster on the wall.

I end up just looking at him for a minute, mostly because I am shocked to hear him sound wistful. I didn’t know he was capable of it. “I think you would have been good,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. I mean, he has the looks, and he’s certainly proven to have a flair for the dramatic.

He turns his head to look back at me, and just like that we had zigzagged back from enemies, or rivals, or whatever we were, to allies. “I always thought so, too.”

---

“So,” Cardan says. “I stand in the door.”

“You do,” I affirm. “You make sure that whoever opens the door, all they see is you.”

“And you’ll be beside the door, out of sight,” he recites. “So you can grab them, disarm them, and pull them in.” He blinks at me. I’ve begun to notice the gold edging his near-black irises, the whole spectacle framed by dark eyelashes. I feel like if I look long enough, I might be able to pick out other colors in them. Eyes like black opals.

“Jude,” he says, like it’s the second time he’s said my name. “Earth to Duarte, hello. Can you actually do that?”

I blink too, shake out of it. “In theory.” I’ve only had to use what I’ve learned on martial arts mats or in boxing studios a few times outside of my lessons, and never on anyone actually armed. But I’m relatively small, so I’ve been taught specifically how to go against people stronger, taller, faster. And I’ve only ever frozen once.

“What if it’s two of them at the door?”

“It won’t be. It’s been one at the door, one at the table all day. You noticed too, right?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “So, the tricky part. You lock person one in the room, I go for whoever’s at the table.” He sneers. “‘Go for.’ Like, what, a linebacker?”

“Again, you’re an alpha.” I did not in my life ever think I would be giving Cardan a pep talk, much less this pep talk. “Use those reflexes.”

“My reflexes are rusty.”

“You’d better oil them fast.”

He exhales audibly. “Okay. So I grapple with—whoever’s at the table, under the hope that they’re surprised enough when their buddy gets grabbed that they’ll be slow getting out the gun. And if they do?”

“You’re too valuable to kill until they have your money.”

“They could wound me.”

I roll my eyes. “I could wound you. Suck it up.”

Cardan chuckles softly and touches his side like he’s already imagining bruises blossoming there. “Ouch.”

“You’ll only be without me for a few seconds,” I reassure him. “You draw focus, keep them on the ground, and then I’ll show up, hopefully armed. Then we’re good.”

“And if we’re not good, you just leave me. You just run.” He gives me a weirdly intense look. “Right? I’m the one they want, anyway.”

“It won’t come to that,” I say.

“But if it does.”

“Cardan.”

“I have concerns.”

I bite the inside of my cheek before I can tell him he’s an idiot if he doesn’t have concerns. “What are they?”

“The third man. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and you haven’t seen him at all. We know what the other two are like, but you have no read on him and I don’t really trust mine.”

That is a good concern, although I’m loath to give Cardan any credit. It had crossed my mind too, along with the possibility that Cardan might have been too drowsy while he was coming out of his drugged haze and made a mistake. But even if he was in a stupor, it isn’t likely that he mistook a scarred man of medium height or a short woman for a tall man with no scars at all.

“Maybe he’s the ringleader,” I suggest. “He might have left once we were settled in.”

“Might have,” Cardan agrees, but he sounds unconvinced.

We pass the rest of the day like that, in our precarious truce. When one of us has an idea, we speak up, trade it back and forth for a while. And then silence again. It would be incredibly boring, and almost is without my phone, except that Cardan is right: this might be literally life or death.

Our captors let us out a few more times to use the bathroom. In the evening, they bring us cold, dry pre-packaged deli sandwiches from a supermarket and an extra pillow and blanket for Cardan, because I am on the mattress and there was only supposed to be one of us. Cardan just accepts the bedding and food, quiet for once. I know he’s wondering the same thing I am: whether they still mean to kill us, or whether we’re worth more alive.

When the light has totally vanished from our tiny window and we have both exhausted our store of potential plans, Cardan unties his shoes, props his pillow in the corner, and starts making himself as comfortable as possible on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, before my brain catches up to my mouth.

“I think this is called ‘sleeping,’” he replies. “I thought everybody did it, but I guess with all those AP classes and mock trial and…”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a big enough mattress,” I say. “Just don’t touch me.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I scoot to the side of the mattress, the one closer to the wall, and turn onto my side, away from the spot I’m vacating for him. “Before I change my mind.”

Cardan seems to realize I actually do mean it, so about half a second later I feel him crawl onto the mattress and flop down. And just as he’s groaning, “God, that is better,” even though the mattress is old and stained and doesn’t smell great, I realize I’ve made a gigantic mistake, because my body is a live wire and not even for the reason he’d think.

I glance over my shoulder at him, and although it’s hard to make out details in the dark, I can see that he is also on his side with his back to me, his midnight curls a stark contrast against the pillow. Breathe, I tell myself. For about five years, Cardan could not have been clearer that he does not want me in any conceivable way, and we’re not in the danger zone yet. There is no “safe” in our situation, but I am at least protected from that.

“I can feel you staring,” he says to the empty air.

Startled, I almost bite down on my own tongue. I turn back around and curl my knees to my chest. I don’t want to ask. Asking would be the worst thing in the world. Asking would be admitting to fear, and naming fear gives it power.

But I am spared when Cardan says, unprompted, “I’m not going to try anything, Jesus.” The Don’t you know that? hangs unspoken in the air between us, because I should know it, seeing as he’s been telling me I stink for years. That while his kind ostensibly was made to dominate mine, my chemicals do not agree with his, and so he would never stoop to that level.

I get it. And sure, it stings to be unwanted, but not so much now, because I can sleep through the night with Cardan at my back and really, truly not worry about being prey. “Right,” I say. “Good. Because you’re the last person in the world I’d want that from, anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear.”

Never mind that he made it clear first. I burrow into my pillow as best I can. “Well, enjoy your uninterrupted sleep.”

I expect a smart remark from him, but there’s nothing but a sigh. Then, because I am listening carefully, I hear his breathing grow long and even, and I realize he actually has fallen asleep. He isn’t too nervous, too tense to be kept awake. I am both of those things, but also exhausted, so I guess I can understand that eventually, exhaustion has its way.

It’s weird that twenty-four hours ago he was one of the people I hated most in the world, someone who stood in for the system that had scorned me my whole life. He still might be, outside these walls. But for now he’s just a boy, sleeping at my back.

I close my eyes, and sleep too.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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joyfulsongbird · 4 years

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Bruises And All- Chapter 7

Here’s the link to Chapter 6!

***

HERMES finds them passed out on the sofa downstairs.

It’s not unexpected exactly, it’s more... saddening. He knows how this story plays out, he’s seen it many times in the people in the time, in his own family. people come and then they leave, they love and they lose. This is a story he has told to Orpheus so many times but he never seems to listen to the subcontext. He tells him stories of gods, of men, of people whose darkness gets the better of them. that sometimes the dark beats the light. but Orpheus never hears that, no, he hears the endless music that continues through his head. He hears a perpetual melody as an undercurrent for his life. Before Orpheus, Hermes was slowly losing hope. He was slowly getting lost in the sea that is humanity, tangled and lost and speechless. but this boy changed everything. instead of looking at these two teenagers like how their ending will turn out, he looks at them with the present in mind. how happy they will be for a brief time before it all goes south.

or maybe not. maybe this time will be different.

She finally stirs awake at the sound of his feet climbing back up the stairs, he catches the sound of the couch shifting and a cup being lifted off the table. He leaves the door open for her, not bothering to act if he hadn’t been down there. and he waits, in the kitchen, standing over the sink filling a half full kettle with hot water for tea.

“Would you like to sit down, dear?” he asks, without looking up. He can feel her there, standing warmly by the bar.

“no, that’s alright.” she answers hastily. “I was just coming up to drop off this mug and go upstairs again.”

“It's nearly past breakfast, why don’t you stay down here and I can make some eggs. and some for Orpheus, too, whenever he gets up.” He's already getting out a pan and some butter when he finally glances over at the girl. She's standing there, mouth open slightly, eyes darting between him and the pan and the stairs not five feet behind her. she swallows.

“you must be hungry.” he continues, not waiting for an answer. she hesitates, and then nods. a step in the right direction. He's not the parenting type but raising Orpheus was great practice. not that he’s ever planning on having any children, he’s far too old for that stage in life, but it taught him to care again. to love again. to be tender with people again. and he’s so very thankful for that. “sit down, I’ll take that mug.”

she does what he says, moving in slow robotic movements. he tries not to think at all, otherwise he may speak. he’s always been good at being diplomatic, at saying what needs to be said and moving on quickly, but here, in this situation, it feels oddly familiar and oddly emotional. he wants to tell her so many things, so many things that he couldn’t tell another woman. that he wishes he had time for, or that he’d been brave enough to say then. but this is not the time and this is not the same woman, this is just a very hungry girl with wide eyes at the sight of butter. they are poor in this town, yes, but not without their luxuries. he has a feeling she hasn’t seen such an indulgence in a very long time, perhaps never at all.

as the pan heats up, he washes her mug quickly, noting the bag of Orpheus’ favorite tea and that there is still about three fourths of the tea left in the mug.

“Is he always like this?” the girl asks after several minutes of silence. He doesn’t turn around to see her face, he knows exactly what she is referring to. Knows exactly what her expression is, a slight smile playing across her lips, a softness in her eye that was not there before. He knows this play, he knows these roles, and she is just the actress for this part.

“Yes.” is his simple answer. He really need not say anything more. Orpheus is simply joy personified. Hermes can’t explain it to anyone who hasn’t met the boy, but once they do? They, too, understand how special he is.

When he looks back over at the girl, she’s facing away from him, but he can see the tension in her shoulders, in the way she sits.

“You don’t have to be afraid here.” he says and she whips around quickly, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I’m not afraid.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“You won’t even tell me your name, you won’t look any of us in the eye, these are all gestures of fear, darling.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” she exclaims, voice rising with her emotion.

“Lower your voice, first of all.” she looks about sheepishly, cheeks coloring.

“What am I supposed to do? Truly, what point is there in telling you my name?” she continues, with a softer tone now. “What good could it possibly do if I am simply going to be leaving as soon as this storm passes?”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “You are a fool then.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are a fool if you still think you are able to leave.”

He can honestly say he’s never been more sure of anything. That is to say, he is not 100% sure that she will not kick into fight or flight mode and run out into the storm but he’s sure her resolve is crumbling. He finds himself rooting for him, rooting for the two of them. Hades is right, of course, she’s bad news. She’s like a mourning dove, an omen of only tragedy to come. But when he looks at her, something in his eyes brightens to the point where it’s blinding. The girl doesn’t look away though, she looks right back. Orpheus admires her, most definitely, but judging from the glances to the side and the ever growing intention in her movements, she admires him too. She wants him, too. That can’t be for nothing. The storm will last for another day or two but by that time, he doubts the two of them will be able to pry apart.

Fate is tricky like that.

One storm passes, yet another looms.

Through the morning, each of the housemates find something to occupy themselves with. Orpheus helps him clean the bar, clean the tables for the third time in the past day, they all just exist in silence. Hades and Persephone play cards, the girl cards through an old book Orpheus must’ve given her. There’s so much silence and only the rain falling on the roof to fill it that it is almost comical when the quiet is broken.

“Eurydice-” as soon as the name leaves his mouth, he claps a hand over his lips, eyes gone wide. The girl- Eurydice- looks up from her book, slowly, with caution.

“Yes?”

“I-I-” he stutters. “Um-”

“Eurydice?” Hades looks over from his cards. “That sounds familiar.”

Eurydice grips the spine of her book hard, she doesn’t look towards him. “It’s not uncommon.”

“It is though. It’s awfully uncommon. I swear, now I think about it, I’ve seen you before.” his brother in law could never mind his own business.

“You haven’t.”

“I have. You were a couple towns over, weren’t you?”

“Stop.”

“Some tiny place, I can’t recall the name. You- you were the drunkard’s daught-”

“Stop it, can’t you tell you’re upsetting her!” Hermes has never seen Orpheus shout before and would never have thought that it might be at Hades of all people, the man who Orpheus had proclaimed “very tall and terrifying” as a child.

The electricity in the air could power their town several times over. But it’s the type of tension which you cannot break, like the air is thick as molasses, if you try to move, everything goes slowly. So that time stretches out thin as a sheet of a paper and nobody dares speak. Hades glare could melt steel, so many have said that his intimidation is what probably got him his job, but for the first time in his whole life, Orpheus stares back. Jaw set.

“Maybe you should take a break.” Persephone suggests quietly from across the table.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Orpheus says stubbornly, his fists clenched and shaking.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Persephone’s looking at her husband, and though Hermes has witnessed their silent confrontations dozens of times, he has yet to become fluent in their language. Hades turns slowly to her, placing his cards face down on the table, carefully, as if he’ll be back soon to continue the game. He stands, brushes the wrinkles out of his button up and starts up the stairs, without a word, without even a breath. Hermes turns his eyes to Eurydice, her lips pressed together and eyes following the man with something not unlike fear in them. But also anger. A deep, old anger. In his years of experience, he knows that these combined can stew up some of the rashest decisions. In the back of his mind, he concludes that he must keep an eye on her. That does not stop him though, when he averts his eyes when Orpheus comes to sit beside her, an arm wrapping ever so gently around her shoulders. She doesn’t lean into it, nor does she pull away, just remains stiff and lifeless. Eyeing the stairs dangerously.

He justifies it to himself later, that he’d simply just missed her slipping up the stairway while they are working on making lunch. But he knows that he’d turned a blind eye. If she needs to confront him, so be it.

thank you so much if you made it this far!!!! i know interest in this fic has dwindled but at this point i’m just happy that i wrote anything at all, thank you for reading and if you’d consider liking or reblogging, that’d be amazing!! no pressure ofc, i appreciate even just a read through!!

#hadestown #hadestown fic #bruises and all #hadestown bway #hadestown broadway #broadway #orphydice #orphydice fic #orpheus #eurydice #hermes #hades #persephone #persephonexhades #hadestown au #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 7

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optimisticsprinkles · 4 years

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The John Boyega Controversy

I noped out after getting the gist of it right after it happened, but it’s continued to rest heavily on my heart, so here we go. Don’t read if you don’t want to think about it (which I totally understand).

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The monstrosity that was “The Rise of Skywalker” left everyone emotional. Not just us fans but also those who made the movie. They all got a lot of hate, and some of that hate was probably racist. John (who played Finn) in particular was probably getting a ton of crap. I did not go through his twitter feed to confirm this, but I can imagine.

In the midst of this emotional time, he posted something... crass about Finn and Rey. If you didn’t see it, good. Don’t look for it.

Its crassness was disturbing enough, and felt disrespectful toward a beloved female character, but what really seemed to trigger most Reylos was the laughing/flippant tone toward Ben Solo’s death.

I cannot think of a single Reylo who wasn’t devastated by the loss of Ben Solo. Many had grief symptoms in the real world. Depression, trouble eating, trouble sleeping, etc. And no matter what someone outside of fandom thinks about grieving a character, it can and does happen.

When someone says it's just a book, movie, or game, it belittles the depth of the emotional investment you've made. It belittles your feelings. It says, "You don't have the right to care deeply about this."

(source, yes I quoted myself)

As a public figure, John probably got more negative feedback than any of us could imagine. And he was probably fed up by the time he posted his crass joke.

I forgive him.

I don’t think he understood (how could he?) how it landed in the grieving Reylo climate at that time, or how much more painful it made the grieving process.

I forgive him.

I doubt he understood what the women were going through who responded to his joke with disappointment, hurt, and anger or why it upset them. I think there were too many people coming at him, and he didn’t have the emotional energy to consider it in any depth, had he been inclined to do so. I think he’d gotten so much hate that he was just done with any kind of negativity and he couldn’t separate the hate-filled posts from the ones with legitimate concerns. So he reacted to grieving Reylo responses with taunting shrug gifs and a distinct lack of empathy.

I forgive him.

His joke hurt. It hurt me, you, us when we were already fragile.

I forgive him.

In situations like that, it’s better not to respond, but some people did. Some spoke out. I understand the urge, but that kind of thing just fans the flames, especially in a time so emotionally fraught on all sides. No one was in any state to sit down and have a calm, rational conversation, much less the world-famous celebrity who’d just been in the worst Star Wars movie to date (yes, I’m counting the Holiday Special). Everyone in that conversation was going through a lot, and it was a terrible time to have any conversation, much less one fueled by hurt.

Some of John’s defenders called the Reylo response racist, and from the (very) few I looked at, there was no merit for a racism accusation. In that context, it looked to me like racist was used a lot like Hitler is used: to have the last word and stop any meaningful discussion from taking place. To shut the other person up so the name-caller can win.

I’m sure there were legitimate racists tearing into John on social media. Again, I didn’t look for them, but he’s a black man in a Star Wars movie, so it’s pretty much guaranteed. But the (few) Reylo responses I saw were upset but otherwise fine. If there were Reylos who went there, I did not see them, but if someone linked me to something obviously racist, I’d be like, “Yeah, that one is. Fuck that person. The others are fine, tho.”

There seemed to be (and I saw this happen with a comic artist, as well) this idea that preferring Reylo over FinnRey is, itself, racism.

Fuck that noise.

I’m not going to say that there aren’t any racist Reylos. Statistically speaking, I’m sure we have a couple. I have not met them, myself, or I haven’t seen any evidence of it if I have. (It’s not like racists go around posting selfies of themselves at Klan meetings.) Racism itself is a spectrum, embedded in society, often subtle, and there is no measuring system that can accurately quantify how much of a person’s behavior is motivated by racism, sexism, or intolerance.

But I reject, wholesale, that liking one pairing that happens to be two white people over the pairing that is interracial is inherently racist. It offends me as a thinking human being to see anyone use that excuse to win arguments or fandom wars.

Maybe someone, someday, will do a study on race, attraction, and fandom ships. How all of that affects each other. Someone probably has done a study on race and physical attraction, which I think would be an interesting read, but what I don’t think is that someone should be shamed for being more attracted to a certain gender or appearance or personality or, yes, even race.

Because I believe, to the bottom of my heart, that attraction is not something we choose. Perhaps it can be influenced, but it can’t be forced. And I think attraction does play a role in ships, but attraction is a weird formula that maybe someone somewhere has figured out, but I don’t have a clue how it works. Again: perhaps it can be influenced, but it can’t be forced, and personal preferences re: attraction aren’t right or wrong. They just are.

Racism is not preferring one fictional couple to a different fictional couple. Racism (and you can correct me if my definition is far off the mark) has much more to do with how we treat each other than with what fictional couples we prefer.

I am not here to tell anyone I am not a racist. That’s not something anyone here can know for sure, as none of you know me in the real world or see my every waking moment. Racism is a subject for me, as a straight white woman, to try to understand. I say try because I know, as a straight white woman, it would be easy for me to fall into prejudicial patterns. And I hope that by not assuming I’m infallible, it can help me live in a sincere, thoughtful, and kind way.

But for accusations or arguments with strangers online who don’t know me and don’t know you and judge based on fictional pairings?

I say again: Fuck that noise.

#John Boyega #Finn #Star Wars #Star Wars Sequel Trilogy #Reylo #Reylos

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tbatf-callout · 5 years

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big ass vent

it had so much potential. it could've done stuff that differentiates itself greatly from others. it could've been a great comic. what. the fuck. happened to it. Now it has been turned in the direction of the dark, edgy rl fanfics that tons of fanfics have found its way in. So far, Chapter 6 is the worst chapter of TBATF. BY FAR. It displays a plot point that has been done to death by many others before them. Chapter 5 was a warning. Reading it told me personally that this comic is about to fall down the drain that is so deep that it fails to get out of for the rest of its days. It has became the more edgy, wtfuture inspired version of Dear Starboy, as perfectly stated by an anon before me. Don't get me started on RL. In the 6 chapters that the crew has made, I have seen no effort into actually making this character interesting and more then just "le bad guy who does bad things and has bad ideas and wants to take over da wurld". If this is a preview of whats to come, then honestly I cannot be arsed to read the 10 UPCOMING CHAPTERS that will be pumped out. And I haven't even MENTIONED the over-sexualisation of women in the comics and that GOD-FORSAKEN BATHTUB IMAGE. I haven't even mentioned, the fact that the main 3 are so out of character that I can't even root for them anymore and start wondering "what the fuck happened?". And, I haven't mentioned, the crew. The same crew who call people who dislike their comic mentally braindead (dEDDheads). and describes them as "mosquitoes that are easily squashed" (talking about squishing people who don't like your comic..... my fucking god). A member of the same crew (Jax) that told a person to jump off a cliff for their birthday. The same crew that lets their fans berate and make fun of people who post fanart even slightly close to each other (no shipping is a rule on their servers), forcing them to specifically s a y that it isn't a ship art in fear of harassment. The same crew that uses "ship wars" as an excuse for banning shipping, even though in most places, that isn't the case at all. The same crew that deletes comments criticising their fanfic (Hint: maybe.... just maybe because they can't take it). The same crew that acts nice to manipulate people into thinking they are good people and say "We love you!" while simultaneously calling people who are calling you out liars. Remember, one of the members of the crew, Jax, is the same person that got special treatment from the mods without telling their userbase at all. Also, this is a message for you, Eddsworld Server Moderators. Why. Why did you lie about her being demoded to the public. Why did one of the mods (Bown) take down fanart that showed a negative opinion towards TBATF in the bottom right corner. Why did that same mod say TWICE not to believe everything you hear on the internet on the discord server, one, after the news got public and two, after deddhead made a message that was for you all and it got pretty popular. And most importantly, Do you know that you are going to paint yourself in an image that will not co-operate with tons of people in the server? Do you know how many people this will turn away from EVER visiting or chatting again on your server because they cannot trust you enough to do the one job you were given, to properly moderate and not shit over people's opinions because of bias? Until we get answers, this has been my big ass vent, you're. fucking. welcome.

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This was amazing to read.

#we completely agree #submission #ew tbatf

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philosopherking1887 · 5 years

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Letter to Tom Hiddleston

As I posted before I saw Tom in Betrayal in London, I wrote a letter (composed on the computer then transcribed by hand on nice stationery, which caused some flare-up of my tennis elbow...) to give to him after the show. I didn’t get into the stage door line fast enough to be able to see Tom; he only went partway down the line before going back in. (I’m not sure if that was his idea or his handler’s. Charlie Cox, meanwhile, did go all the way down the line; I got his autograph on my program and a couple of photos of him, though not with him.) But some house manager/handler person was collecting letters, cards, and gifts, and when I asked skeptically whether he would actually give them to Tom, he said, “100%”. So in theory, Tom actually received this and might read it. Maybe it was dumb, or presumptuous, or outright rude, but I expressed my condolences for what the MCU did to his character. If Tom isn’t actually as depressed about it as he seems, it won’t matter -- he’ll ignore it like the rest of the nonsense fans probably write to him -- but if he is, maybe it’ll help a little to know he has allies.

Anyway, here’s what I wrote.

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Dear Mr. Hiddleston (or Tom, if I may),

I’m a philosophy postdoc at [redacted], in London for an on-campus interview for a lectureship at [redacted]… which actually isn’t until next week; I extended my trip a few days on the front end so that I could catch one of the last shows of Betrayal before the run ended. It’s more than a little silly, but I’ll admit that a large part of the reason I was hoping [redacted] would invite me for a visit no later than mid-June was so that I’d have an opportunity (or excuse) to come see you act in person.

Like many people you’ve heard from, I’m sure, I became a fan of yours through your portrayal of Loki. I was blissfully ignorant of the MCU until 2015, when a friend invited me to see Avengers: Age of Ultron. My interest was piqued when I learned that Joss Whedon wrote and directed it, since I greatly admire his work. So of course, because I wasn’t raised by wolves, I had to go back and watch all the previous MCU films in chronological order. I wasn’t really hooked until I watched Thor, but not because of the title character.

Loki’s story was deeper, more tragic, more Shakespearean than I expected from a comic book movie, even in this golden age (though perhaps not from one directed by Kenneth Branagh). It was striking that the villain (seemingly) died not as a direct result of his wicked actions, in the Wile E. Coyote-like fashion favored by Marvel and Disney movies, but by suicide, prompted by his father’s rejection. He was three-dimensional, flesh and blood, and never lost the audience’s sympathy even in his cruelest moments—like Shylock, Cassius, or Macbeth. Then, when Loki turned up again in The Avengers, more desperate and ruthless but fundamentally the same proud, wounded spirit, I was fully drawn in. (Whedon’s incisive writing certainly didn’t hurt.)

I needed to know who played Loki with such poise, charm, and pathos. After getting caught up on the MCU (including another nuanced, twisty, show-stealing appearance from Loki in The Dark World), I needed to find more of your work. I watched Unrelated, Archipelago (ouch), The Deep Blue Sea, and the Henry installments of The Hollow Crown. I went to see Coriolanus when it was shown in a local movie theater; I watched Crimson Peak, The Night Manager, and I Saw the Light when they came out.

And the amazing thing all of these performances had in common is that you disappear into each role, inhabiting each character completely. You make the most diverse characters equally believable, from the selfish frivolity, with an undercurrent of sadness, of Freddie Page or Prince Hal to the grim inflexibility of Caius Marcius to the inscrutable chameleon Jonathan Pine and, of course, the mercurial, self-destructive Loki. When you speak Shakespeare, the words flow as naturally as if you grew up in Elizabethan England, and the meaning comes across so lucidly that I feel like I did, too. I had no idea what Coriolanus was about when I went to see it (generally not recommended with Shakespeare), but I found myself as effortlessly caught up in it as if it were an episode of Game of Thrones. Nonetheless—and this is what drew me to your work in the first place—you put the same kind of thoughtfulness and conviction into the most (apparently) frivolous roles that you do into Shakespeare.

I haven’t heard anyone say this or ask you about it in interviews, maybe because they know you wouldn’t be able to say anything publicly if you agree or maybe because there are so few people who feel this way, but I want to express how sorry I am about what was done to your character, how thoughtlessly all your masterful work and dedication were thrown away—in Infinity War, yes, but even more insultingly in Thor: Ragnarok. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I sensed from your comportment during the press for Ragnarok, however gamely you talked up the humorous new tone (you are, after all, a professional), that you weren’t entirely happy with the way Loki and (to an even greater extent) Thor were “reinvented”—or, more accurately, bowdlerized, made into caricatures rather than characters: Loki was turned into an effete, hedonistic cartoon cut-out “trickster” who betrays people for shits and giggles because it’s “in his nature”—completely disregarding, or rather attempting (successfully, for most audiences) to erase, his complicated, compelling motives for his misdeeds in previous films; and Thor was turned into a compassionless, narcissistic bully (however much the movie tried to make out that Loki was the narcissist) and, to use some technical terminology, a fratty douchebro. This mean-spirited retcon, which gleefully mocked its predecessors and the people who liked them (especially with the parody of Loki’s death scene in The Dark World), was not the conclusion to the trilogy that Thor, Loki, or their fans deserved. It was not the conclusion you deserved, after the heart and soul you put into the character.

All that is to say: even if Marvel didn’t understand or appreciate what they had in your Loki, some of us do, and we are grateful for the dignity and compassion with which you incarnated a character who suffered from emotional abuse, social ostracism, and mental illness (Ragnarok cannot make us believe that all of these problems are mere “childish fixations,” to quote the director, or a lazy failure to “grow and change”). I hope the Loki TV show turns out to be worthy of the character as you, Branagh, and Whedon shaped him, not another cynical effort to cash in on Loki’s fans while making no secret of the contempt in which we are held, especially because most of us are female, and bowing to the dislike of the Reddit crowd that can’t understand why a cerebral, slightly androgynous, morally ambiguous character is more appealing to women than the standard self-certain male power fantasies (must be because women always go for assholes, right?). I haven’t decided yet whether I want to subscribe to Disney+ so that Marvel knows exactly how many people care about Loki, or boycott it in protest of how the MCU has treated Loki and his fans. Maybe I’ll compromise by using someone else’s login…

To conclude (finally; we academics tend to wax long-winded): Thank you for all your magnificent work, which clearly demonstrates your respect for both your craft and your audience. You’re a true artist, and you manage to elevate everything you act in (your eyebrow movements furnished most of the sincere pathos in Ragnarok). I hope you will continue to act both in the theater, which is obviously your true passion, and in film and TV so that your work is accessible to a larger audience. Or do more of those National Theatre Live things; best of both worlds.

Sincerely, etc.

#letter to tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston as loki #tom hiddleston's acting #anti thor ragnarok

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sabraeal · 5 years

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Written for Trope Madness’s betting kitty winner, @ruleofexception! It’s been....over six months, but here is this HUGE BEAST of a chapter. I know I said I thought this would be the last Laxdo chapter, BUT...there’s gonna be at least one more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of entertainment, back in the country. At least, not the way Shirayuki’s constantly bombarded with it here, videos up on billboards and scrolling across phones on the subway. The B&B had a limping internet connection, and with the only television in the common room, she’d spent more time inside a book or outside the house than struggling to find a channel the other boarders would agree to.

So when Zen asked her to join D&D, when Kiki had teased her for not even knowing what she’d said yes to --

Well, she’d done her research. Not just the kind Izana gave her, reading source books and studying lore, but watching videos, listening to podcasts, finding the D&D episodes of popular shows -- anything that would give her something to expect. Nothing could have rivaled her disappointment or her relief when she realized costumes were optional; she hadn’t known how she would cobble together historically accurate, fourth century Welsh gown when even the SCA shrugged their shoulders at the idea, but, well...it was exactly the sort of challenge she would have risen to, if she had the excuse.

Still, she’d thought she had an idea of what to expect: roleplay, quick thinking, rich story, complicated feelings, improv, maybe even some funny voices, but --

Nothing had prepared her for the amount of planning.

“So that’s it?”

Shirayuki startles; she’d been deep into splitting healing duties with Mitsuhide. Paladins are only half spell casters, only good for buffs and an occasional off-heal, so all the curse removal duties fall to Lynet. Bedwyr is more or less moral support; unless the curse itself had some sort of permanent stat drain, there’s nothing he can do.

Zen isn’t invested in this conversation, of course; magi don’t have magic that can’t be applied to themselves or their weapon. Which is why he’s craning his neck toward Izana, incredulous. “We just cast a whole bunch of Remove Curse and then hit the road?”

Shirayuki isn’t an expert on Izana’s expressions, not when the difference between them is the angle of an eyebrow or the twitch of a lip, but she feels confident in calling this one positively withering. “Is that what you think you should do?”

The temperature of the room drops two degrees. That’s a question where everyone knows the answer.

“We still don’t know who started this,” Mitsuhide tries, haltingly, thick fingers worrying at the edge of his character sheet. From the dog-eared corners on every side, this isn’t a first-time occurrence. “It’s not a good habit to leave enemies behind us.”

“Not a healthy one, at least,” Kiki adds, leaning her knee against the table.

“But we don’t have any hints either.” Zen’s flushed, frustrated. “Do you guys just want to hang around here, waiting for him to come back? If he comes back?”

“Or her.” Kiki’s brow twitches, and Shirayuki’s not sure whether to read it as amusement or annoyance. Maybe both is the better bet. “Then again, you haven’t tried to woo any rescued damsels this session, so probably not a dread sorceress. Unless there’s something Shirayuki isn’t telling us.”

Kiki turns to her with an inquisitive look, and even though she knows she’s joking, even though she sees the quirk at the corner of her lips, Shirayuki’s cheeks flare fire-engine red.

“Hey!” Zen snaps, not looking much better. “Shirayuki--”

“Well.” Obi’s mouth cants, eyes catching hers from their corners. “I know Beaumains is under her spell.”

She can feel it, this moment of opportunity being flung open like a window, and -- and his wink is not helping matters. Not at all. Especially not when Kihal’s flirt back or make out with his face is burning a hole in her pocket, reminding her of what she was trying to do before plot carried her away. It’s just --

She can’t say something now. This isn’t Lynet and Beaumains, this is -- is them, Shirayuki and Obi, and that might mean something, and she doesn’t -- she isn’t --

Well, there’s just a huge difference between a flirtation and a boyfriend, probably. And she hardly knows if she wants the first, let alone -- that. Not with some college boy she’s known a week. He might play trumpet, for all she knows.

The moment stretches on, too long, and Kiki hums, amused. “I suppose that is some damning evidence.”

“Okay.” Zen’s folded himself into a huff, fuming so hard it’s an honest surprise smoke isn’t pouring out his ears. “So you all think we should just...hang around? Hope for some Big Bad to come wandering back to check his work?”

“Well.” The word bursts out of her, unbidden, but -- she’s committed now, with everyone watching her. “We do have, um, another reason.”

He blinks, some of his flush fading back to pink. “Oh?”

“I, uh, only prepared one Removed Curse at our last rest.” Her hands twist themselves in knots under the table, anxious. “But I can fix that at our next one! If this works like it should, then I should be able to get everyone on their feet in...a few days, maybe?”

Zen lets loose a whine that would make a puppy worry. “A few days.”

“Um, well...” Shirayuki squirms in her seat. “Give or take.”

Kiki’s eyes narrow. “Just how many spell slots do you have?”

“Um...” She flips through her sheet, squinting at the chart on the second page. “Three?”

Mitsuhide lets out a worried hum, too high-pitched for a man his size. “How many people are under this spell again?”

The question sits heavily at the table until Izana leans back, the picture of surprise, and asks, “Oh, are you asking me?”

Zen stares. “Is there someone else who would know?”

“It could have been rhetorical. A nice little thought exercise.” He shrugs, and Shirayuki does not miss the way his mouth twitches at a corner. “But the answer is: as many as it takes to make a castle of this size function.”

Zen groans.

“Oh, looks like we better get comfy, my liege,” Obi says with a wolfish grin. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

This night is your longest yet; you had thought the first interminable, when all the miasma of illness hung thick over the room, choking you even behind yours mask. Despair had clung to every wrinkle in your gown, tight like a child’s hand on a mother’s apron, always niggling, reminding you that time would run out, that perhaps no amount of your cleverness could save them.

But hope is worse.

There is no reason to pick the man you do -- or rather, the lack of one becomes it. With only a single brew, Bedwyr suggests that you spend it on the castle’s healer, but--

But this magic is familiar somehow. It slicks along your skin like a drop of oil in water, and though you cannot divine its maker, you do not trust it to act as it ought. Curse though it may be, there is a part of you that worries any cure that you brew will only add to your troubles.

You worry over that same thought for endless hours, trying to get to the marrow of it, to logic out why dread settles so firmly in your gut. There has never been an instance, not one, where your gifts have failed you, where the joy of victory has turned to ashes in your mouth. Except for the one, of course.

Despite your misgivings, the man wakes at dawn.

It is not a calm thing, oh no; he heaves into life, breath filling his chest so forcefully it arches him upright. He clutches at his breast, wide-eyed, but besides the atrophy expected of long illness and the shock of waking, he is healthy. So healthy he empties the first bowl of broth you give him, and the second, and when you bring the third he inquires after a heel of bread as well.

“Well, this certainly stands as a testament to your skill,” Arturius remarks, bemused, as the man sops up his bowl. You are tired, and for a moment you are tempted to ask if he had doubted it, but -- it would be picking a fight, and it is not the prince’s fault that his particular skills meant he slept, rather than wait.

“I brewed more last night,” you tell him. “Enough dose for three.”

“Our priority is the healer, of course.” He bites his lip, head tipped back in thought. “But the others...”

For the first time in hours, you feel your mouth lift into a smile. “I did have a thought about that...”

Izana blinks. “The dwarf?”

“He’s cursed, isn’t he?” She must be the only one that remembers; despite happening only hours ago, the rest of the party stares blankly at her. “Worse than anyone else, if I’m remembering right.”

“Oh,” Obi hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I remember that. He’s human.”

“Oh, right.” Zen scoops up the dwarf’s figure, squinting hard at its shapeless features. “I thought he was going to be the Big Bad’s sidekick, honestly.”

“Mm, agreed.” Kiki leans over, giving the plastic the same skeptical look. “I was waiting for the backstab.”

“Such little faith in your fellow man,” Izana clucks, shaking his head.

She arches a brow, eloquent in her disdain. “It is your game.”

His mouth stretches, curling into a smile Shirayuki’s only ever seen on the Grinch. “That is fair.”

“Still.” The word drags Izana’s attention back to her, his eyes almost comically wide. “I want to give our friend at least one of these. After all, he’s been helping us this whole time.”

“Has he though?” Obi mutters, and without even thinking, Shirayuki puts an elbow straight in his side.

Every hair stands on end as she realizes what she’s done. She’s -- she’s practically scolded him, the boy she maybe-kind of-might want to flirt with. Or his character, at least. For, you know, fun.

When she dares a glance at him, his eyes have rounded, eyebrows practically up at his hairline, but -- but --

He almost looks impressed.

“Huh,” Izana huffs out, drawing her attention back to the topic at hand. “Do you now.”

It’s not a question, but she hasn’t gotten this far by letting him practice his rhetoric. “I do.”

He hums, tapping at his notes. “Well, I suppose you could...try.”

“Me?” The dwarf shifts on his spindly legs, wringing his thick-fingered hands over his belly. “But -- but there are others. Other who would be of much more use than me!”

“We have more than enough for your healer,” you assure him, though you have to grit your teeth as he dances.

There’s something strange, off-kilter about the way he moves, about the way his face changes, as if your mind is trying to make him into two different people entirely -- one which is familiar, and one which is entirely not. It is tiring to say the least.

You meet his eyes, those warm hazel-green, and say, “You have helped us immeasurably. Who else could be more important than you?”

“The head of the guard?” he supplies with a squeak. “The steward. The -- the cook? Anyone, my lady, would be more helpful that me.”

You lower yourself to a chair, coming to his height. “No one is more important here than the man who knows how this all came to be.”

His gaze is watery when he tears it from yours. “No, no,” he insists, voice ragged. “Spend it on the others. All of them are more deserving than me.”

"Welp.” Obi pops the ‘p’, annoyed, and it draws attention to his mouth, to the way it fits around the words he speaks and -- well, Shirayuki really didn’t need help with that. “We’re doing real good, solving this mystery.”

It’s been three in-game days, and with every awoken man, more questions are asked than answered. So far none of them can remember being cursed, and when they bring the dwarf in front of them --

Well, Shirayuki knows this is all pretend, that the dwarf is really just Izana bending his voice into something new, but the way his expression crumples as every soldier calls him a stranger -- it’s a lot.

“What is even happening here?” Zen groans, fingers pulling at his face. “The dwarf knows something, but he won’t tell us.”

“He can’t tell us.” It comes out a little sharper than she intends, but -- it’s an important distinction. “He’s cursed.”

“Right,” he agrees absently. “But also he won’t let us help him, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Her hands clench on her lap. “It’s really n--”

“Can’t you just cast it on him anyway?” Obi asks, chin in hand, drumming his fingers on the table. “Then bingo-bango-bongo: the whole problem is solved.”

Her jaw drops. “I’m not going to treat a patient without his consent!”

Obi rounds on her, eyes incredulously wide. “He’s not real.”

That...is a good point, she’ll give him that.

“Well, he’s real to Lynet,” she informs him primly, setting her hands flat on the table. “And she would never.”

For a moment is mouth goes flat, annoyed, but then -- then it curls, Obi leaning casual on one fist. “I’m sure Beaumains could be persuasive.”

Her mouth wraps around the word, silent. The look he gives her is too knowing, eyebrows lifted in invitation, and she’s so, so tempted to ask just what kind of persuasion Beaumains might be inspired to do--

“Even if Shirayuki cast it, he could still resist it with a Will save,” Mitsuhide interjects, sending the moment skittering. “If he wanted to, at least. And then we’d be out of a spell slot.”

“If we’re stuck here, we should be focusing on the Big Bad anyway.” Zen settles back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably askew, like he’d just woken up. “Someone has to have said something interesting, right? And we’re not just thinking about it.”

Mitsuhide leans a chin in his hand, pondering the idea. “The head of the guard mentioned that a traveling caravan came through before this all happened.”

Kiki nods. “And the steward mentioned buying wood from traveling merchants. Probably the ones who supplied the logs with the Will debuff.”

Zen settles back, thoughtful. “So you think they were force to sell the wood?”

“They must have some leverage on them,” Mitsuhide agrees. “They didn’t mention any children--”

“Or maybe,” Kiki deadpans, “they were all bandits?”

Mitsuhide gapes. “But there were women in the caravan.”

“Oh my,” she hums, teeth flashing behind her lips. “You’re right. How silly of me. We all know a woman could never be dangerous, oh no.”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh?” Kiki smiles, and the room drops an entire degree. Shirayuki practically shivers in the chill. “It better not be.”

Shirayuki blinks, and between one moment as the next, Kiki stabs her pen into the table, leaving it quivering like a knife.

Izana huffs in annoyance. “Kiki, please. The table didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just between the leaves.” She shift her character sheets, and there it is: pen nib wedged perfectly into the crevice. With nothing more than a sharp tug, it’s back out again, twirling between Kiki’s long fingers. “Besides, it’s not like this is some family heirloom.”

“No,” Izana agrees, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Okay, aside from Princess Kiki’s love for violence, which, by the way--” Obi tosses her a wink, which absolutely does not send a jolt of disappointment spear through Shirayuki’s belly-- “hot. It looks like our only lead are these bandits.”

Mitsuhide grunts. “We don’t know if they’re bandits.”

“Fine, Schrödinger’s bandits,” he sighs. “We don’t--what?”

The table is quiet, wide-eyed -- even Izana -- and into the silence, Zen says, “You know Schrödinger?”

Obi huffs. “What? I go to college. I know memes.”

“Wow,” Kiki manages, drawling every letter.

“Anyway.” Zen wields the word like a knife, trying to cut through the distractions. “We should track down these bandits--”

Mitsuhide clears his throat.

“Potential bandits,” Zen amends, annoyed. “So while Shirayuki is tending to the people here, we can start canvassing the area.”

“Oh!” It slips out of her, like a punch to the gut. If she’s back at the castle, and Beaumains is out looking for bandits --

She shakes her head. That’s not what this game is about. It’s about saving her sister and having fun with her friends, not -- not practice flirting.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to take it back. Every eye at the table falls on her, and she squirms. “Um.”

“That isn’t very fair,” Kiki observes, dragging her gaze to Zen. “Shirayuki should get a chance to have an adventure too, not just heal in the background.”

“But we can’t take her with us.”

She hadn’t even minded being left behind -- Izana would give her something to do, and it wasn’t as if Lynet would feel strongly about bandit chasing -- but it stings, hearing it from his mouth. Zen had wanted her to be Gwenhwyfar, to be the one waving the handkerchief from the parapets. Instead she’d made Lynet -- an alchemist, an arcanist, an asset -- but even still he’s finding ways to keep her at Camelot, leaving her behind when the knights rode out.

Mitsuhide grunts, disapproving.

“She’s using her highest slots to do this curse thing,” Zen explains, and she gets it, she does, it just doesn’t help. “If we find the Big Bad--”

“--We should probably have our healer with us.” Obi’s mouth cants into a lop-sided smile, cajoling. “Come on, my liege. We don’t have to jump in the deep end the second we get a hint of where this guy is. We have plenty of time to give my lady here a heads up before we get ourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

He winks, and -- and maybe she’s just projecting, but it feels different from the one he gave Kiki. More...personal.

“Um.” Now is really not the time to blurt out, I’m more upset that I can’t flirt with your character, so she just nods, ducking her head so he can’t see her blush. “Okay! But I’ll need a day to swap out my spells.”

He’s just -- adjusting, she knows that, but his foot swipes right along the bottom of hers and every hair stands on end. Oh, goodness. “We’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Each day, more men awake from their stupors; three at a time, all of them disoriented, groggy. You had hoped that when you woke the healer, he would at least be able to ease your burden, but all the cursed are emaciated, their muscles atrophied to the point that they must be helped to the chamber pot and back. It is up to you to brew the potions, to cook the broth and, eventually, heartier stews to strengthen them.

And still there are more chores; small things: opening windows and keeping your stores stocked, organizing and documenting the treatment of your patients. Each day blends into each other, sleep only coming in fits and starts and never restful. Still, it is enough. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, hands doing what you ask of them, until --

Until one day they don’t.

Most of the men have not been moved from the great hall, though now, at least, there is room between them to walk, not just bodies laid haphazardly across the stone. It is not a situation you find ideal, however -- it is not feasible to move so many, and in their fugue state, few will care about privacy or proximity. However, those awoken few have been moved to more private chambers; the weft of the curse is thick, as fine a weave as any linen, and you suspect it does not allow any inference, either magic or mundane. Those who lay dreaming are free from any ailment save the caster’s making, but the others --

Well, that many men pressed so close is just tinder waiting for a kindling.

There is a way within Laxdo’s halls to reach the dormitories from the great hall, however, a quick dash through the courtyard’s arcades cuts minutes off a day that already has too few to spare. You hurry through, gaze set ever forward, laden with yet another heavy box of supplies.

Your mind is not on your day, of course. Oh no, it has long wandered far into stranger lands. The dwarf is what plagues your thoughts, for with every man that wakes, their eyes passing over him with barely more than a curious glance and no flash of recognition, he fades a little further. One day, you fear, you will turn to see he is little more than a shadow, a suggestion rather than a reality.

Whoever he is, he must be much changed. Perhaps he is knight, strong bodied and deep-voice; or perhaps he is truly only a boy, and --

Your heel catches, so hard that your teeth jitter in their sockets. It snaps your spine straight, feet staggering beneath you to balance both your weight and the box’s.

All for naught; the shock jolts like lightning through your limbs, and the moment you right yourself, the box slips from boneless fingers, straight to the stone below.

There is a moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Or at least, the last week, which has felt like a lifetime. On shivering fawn legs, you bend, touching each bottle and jar as if they were the saints’ bones themselves. It is not the first inventory you have done with your heart lodged in your throat, but it is certainly the one where you had the most to lose. After all, it wasn’t as if the people of Castle Perilous would rely on their young mistress alone.

Your breath huffs out on a sigh. Misfortune’s bony fingers have no hooks in your skirts today. Not one cracked jar or one broken seal.

You get to your feet, hauling the box into you arms, but -- but you are made suddenly and terrifying aware that you have not slept for days. The world swings in a mad carousel around you, and with the momentum of your lift and the weight of the box you tilt back --

But never hit the ground.

“Oh,” Zen groans, flopping back in his seat. “Come on. Really?”

“Oooh, master, you just wish you had moves like me.” Obi’s hips give a sultry swivel in his seat as he scoops up his natural twenty. It absolutely does not give Shirayuki any -- any ideas. The room is just unnaturally warm for a basement.

“Careful, smooth moves,” Kiki deadpans. “K-pop impressions and bad pick-up lines won’t save you from not investing in your health.”

Obi huffs out a laugh with one of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I don’t invest in nerd things like hit points, I invest in being cool, and I stand by that decision. Besides,” he says, pink flaring high on his cheeks, “my pick-up lines are great.”

“Name one that worked.”

“I dunno.” His shoulders hunch, defensive. “All of them.”

Kiki’s eyebrows lift. “On who?”

Me. Shirayuki catches the word in her teeth, swallowing it down. It’s not -- it’s not even true. Beaumains has been using them on Lynet, and Lynet is the one interested, not -- not her. They’re different people. Probably.

“You know.” He sniffs. “People. You don’t know them.”

If anything, Kiki’s brows only raise higher. “Hmm.”

“If we’re quite done speculating about Obi’s romantic prowess,” Izana interjects smoothly. “I do believe we’re in the middle of something?”

Heat blooms across your back, the way it would when you sat at the hearth, tilting a book so it might not lay in shadow. It smolders along your side, not like a bonfire, but a brazier, or even a bed warmer --

Ah, now there is a thought your father would not appreciate you having.

Your gaze is fixed to your supplies, but it takes you a long moment to realize you are not holding them. No, it is a steady hand over you, sheathed in black leather, and in one, delirious moment, you realize that bare indigo must be pressed into your back, hooking just so at your hip. He doesn’t even shake.

“Careful there, my lady.” The words rumble against your ear, too intimate in the cage of his chest. “Keep this up, and a man could get ideas.”

You lift your gaze, gold tangling with green, breath catching in your throat. He might have made a shoddy assassin, but as your protector, well --

“Do you think if it happens another time, you will believe it?”

He blinks, eyes as wide and gold as coins. “Believe what?”

With all the courage you can summon, you mimic his flirtatious smirk and say, “That I’m falling for you.”

If the birds still sang at Laxdo, then the air would not be so still, so silent. At it is, you could hear a pin drop, so long as it was louder than the throb of your heart.

In a single, staggering moment, you are back on your feet, and Beaumains shakes his head, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “You need to work on your delivery.”

Your jaw snaps shut. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the flirting type, my lady.” He shrugs, a smirk peeking out from behind his cowl. “Too earnest, I think.”

Blood boils in your veins, and you know he can see it on your skin when you say, “It does not seem fair that you may make love as you wish, but yet I cannot.”

He huffs out a laugh, sweeping a step closer. Oh, he smells...nice. Leather and pine with a hint of brimstone. “You know what I have and you don’t, my lady?”

“What?” You wish it wasn’t so breathless.

He leans in, and unbidden, your eyes flutter to half-mast. “Charisma.”

“Wait.” Kiki snags his sheet, sliding it across the table. “How on earth is your charisma higher than your con?”

“I’m a rogue-sorcerer!” Obi squeaks, snatching it back. “It’s my casting stat.”

“This is ridiculous,” she decides. “Are you planning on using it any time soon?”

He gapes. “I use it all the time!”

“I mean besides for bad pick-up lines.”

“How do you think I snuck up on Shirayuki at all?” He waves his hands. “Obviously magic!”

“I mean...” Kiki shrugs. “There is a stealth stat for a reason. A good rogue wouldn’t need Invisibility--”

He sniffs. “There’s just no reasoning with you, Princess.”

“I thought you were supposed to be bandit hunting.” The words come out breathless, and you wish you were like Morgaine, who never sounds as if anything bothers her at all, instead of -- of this. A girl ripe to be teased, since she can never wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve.

He looks out over the yard, eyes squinting into the distance, and it is a fine view for watching the smirk creep up the side of his face. “Seemed like my job was here, my lady.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, as suddenly and easily as if he had laid a hand over your heart. Still, you frown. “And you did not think to announce yourself?”

“You did well enough alone,” he tells you with a speculative glance, and the flash in his eyes makes you think he likes what he sees. That he is, perhaps, even a little impressed with you. “And anyway, it seemed like you understood well enough about hiding in plain sight.”

You do not miss the bite of censure in his words, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. He put space between you, but you close it as you say, “I am the only one who can do this work, I do not have the luxury of--”

“Peace, my lady.” He holds up his hands, as if he might ward you off like a bitch anxious over her pups. “I know well enough. Still...” He edges a step back, teeth flashing white against the dark of his face. “Should you not be wary of me?”

You stare, brows furrowed. “Wary? Has not Uther himself consigned me to your care?”

“That’s true enough,” he admits, hand raising to squeeze at his shoulder. An old injury must lay there, aggravated by the heavy weather. “Though I thought His Grace would fill your head with all sorts of things.”

“Things?”

“Speculations. Rumor.” He grins, sharp enough to cut, though it is not a blade faced outward. “Maybe even something close to the truth.”

“Beaumains.” You step closer, and he watches you now, not the quintain creaking in the distance. “I think my own thoughts, not those of Arturius. And I have never been wary of you.”

The arcade is so quiet, you can hear his breath rasp in his chest.

“Besides--” you let yourself share in some of his smile-- “I was the one who had you pinned.”

“My lady,” he protests, “I let you--”

“I think we can call this argument thoroughly explored,” Izana informs them. “Not that I do not enjoy the enthusiastic roleplay.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki chirps, hands clapping to cover her blush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No need.” You do not miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I think we all know it was your tanglefoot bag that did the pinning.”

“In any case,” you continue, perhaps a little forcefully, “you have proven yourself to be a man worthy of trust in my eyes.”

Beaumains stares, inscrutable. “My lady...”

Whatever words he means to say are lost; he folds his lips around them and the moment carries them away.

“My lady,” he tries again, more sure. “You’re wearing yourself down.”

“I am fine--”

“Perhaps His Grace--”

“I am fine,” you insist, sharper than you intend. “There is no reason to worry Arturius. So you might as well not.”

The silence between you itches, and when those golden eyes look at you, when they stare through you as if you were a specimen under glass, you want to squirm out of your own skin. “Who says I have to listen to anything you say?”

Uther. The name bubbles up, unbidden. You would have to be a fool to speak it; what passed between assassin and king is known by them alone. To pretend you know either of their minds would be a mistake of the rarest form.

Instead, you take a step forward, skirt brushing over the toes of his boots. “You owe me.”

His eyes narrow, thoughtful. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You do.”

He stares at you, and you know he remembers the same as you do: the botched assassination, him grabbing your wrists and pulling you under him, the way his skin had warmed so pleasantly against yours --

“Fine.” His gaze swivels away, chin turned so much your neck hurts just looking at it. “But...why keep it a secret, my lady?”

Teeth prick at your lips. You cannot just say, Arturius. Not when he has been so kind to you, when he has taken on this quest that no other would. But still, still -- you were barely allowed to come. If he were to know that you are weary, or weak, or, Father forfend, overwhelmed --

Well, you do not have to imagine what sort of behavior that might invite from His Grace.

“Because I can manage on my own,” you say instead, lifting the box from his hands.

Or at least, you would, if he would let go. “We’re only having this talk because you’re not managing, my lady.”

Ah, that is...a point. Your shoulders drop, grip loosening until it is once again only Beaumains that holds it. “I...”

“My lady?” You cannot meet his gaze, but you feel it on you, warm and inquisitive, perhaps even concerned.

“It’s only...”

He leans in. You can feet his heat against your skin.

“The dwarf,” you manage, a flush gathering at where your wimple meets your collar. “There’s something about him.”

“He’s short?” Beaumains offers, voice low, a pleasant rumble so close to you. “He’s cursed?”

Your mouth pulls thin. “That is not what a meant. However...” You shake your head, at a loss. “I only have this...this feeling. It is important that he be cured of his affliction. But...if he does not want to be saved before the others...”

Frustration tangles your tongue. If only you knew what words would convince him, what proof you needed to lay before him --

“Ah,” Beaumains sighs, mouth crooking into a grin. “Is that all?”

Izana blinks as his phone hoots at him, scanning the screen.

“Hm.” He sets it aside, laying it square on the table. “Obi, if you would come with me.”

Zen’s eyes narrow as they stand, gaze darting between them. “What are you doing?”

“Me and the big boss here have some business in hallway time,” Obi tells him with a grin even Shirayuki has to admit is insufferable. “Got a problem with it?”

He frowns. “Why do you need that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Obi skips around the corner of the stairs and is gone. The door above shuts with an almost jaunty click.

“Wha--?” Zen stares after him, sputtering. “That’s why I’m asking!”

It is quiet, for once. Only the moan of the wind outside and the scratch of your nib against parchment reach your ears, the crackle of the fire long faded into the background of your mind. It lulls you, the gentle sweep of your own hand, and you close your eyes -- just a blink --

Only to wake at the creak of your door.

“Lynet.”

You do not expect the prince to darken your door, not this late at night, but here he is, cloak dusted with snow, sword at his hip. He follows your gaze, and he seems shocked to find his blade there as well, as if he does not always keep it at his side.

“Arturius,” you say, rising to your feet. “I didn’t think to see you so late.”

“I needed to know something.” He sweeps a hand toward your bed. “Would you mind?”

You blink, and for a moment, he is a different man telling you to get to a bed, gaunleted hands reaching --

“Yes,” you gasp, shaking yourself. This is different. Arturius is a friend. You trust him. “Of course.”

Your legs dangle off the side of the bed, toes just brushing the floor, and he draws his chair up in front of you, holding your hand.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I’m going to count.”

“Are you taking my pulse?” His fingers are not in the proper place for such a thing. At your wrist is truly--

“Please,” he laughs. “Just trust me.”

You do, and so your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you are only aware of your breath, of his touch, and you --

Jolt awake, as the door flies open again.

“Beaumains!” Arturius snaps, dropping your hand as if it scalds. “What are you--?

It is only once he is in the room room that you can see -- there is someone behind him. A small someone.

The dwarf.

Beaumain’s smile stretches smugly from ear-to-ear. “Our friend here says he’ll do it.”

“What?” Zen squaws, glaring daggers at his brother before settling back on Obi. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Obi grins, hooking his hands behind his head. “Get the job done?”

“Intimidate him!” He waves a hand vaguely towards the head of the table. “He’s our friend!”

Obi blinks. “Izana?”

“No, not -- I mean the dwarf!” He lets out a huff. “Izana is definitely not our friend.”

“Brother.” Izana presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re like Rasputin,” Zen tells him. “You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t intimidate either of them.” Obi darts a glance at her, hooking her with a grin. “I just used my raw charisma.”

Kiki groans. “Go home.”

“Are you certain?” You glance at Beaumains behind him, but there is no menace to the man, just an unseemly amount of gloating. “I will not force you.”

The dwarf hesitates, wringing his small hands over his belly, but in the end he nods, meeting your gaze with a confidence that is wholly new. “I am ready, my lady.”

Your hand shakes as his fingers cup the rounded bottom of the flask, as he pulls the glass from your grasp, and with a deep, steeling sigh, upends the entirety of the potion into his throat.

“Oh!” The sound hiccups out of you, and though you’ve worn a groove in your voice the shape of the warnings you give each time, they tangle in your mouth. It is too late to say, drink slowly, to say, stop if it does not feel right, and oh, you are usual say this to a man prone, insensate --

And yet, nothing happens.

It takes time, you know. Your palms itch, eager to reach for your notes, to see if this was too long an interval, if this was a sign that this geas was worse, that the caster was fighting your remedy --

A muscle twitches. The dwarf blinks, raising his hand -- his hand that is now large, now small, that cannot decide its size at all, which is fine since his whole body follows suit, growing and shrinking. His shoulders rounds as his spine stretches, as if he’s hit a wall, some sort of barrier --

And it shatters, like an egg’s shell, his body growing well beyond its confines, the proportion of his limbs and face changing, until --

“Oh!” You whirl around, putting your back to him. “Oh my!”

“Ah,” the man says, his voice reedy, yet not as high as you remember. “I had hoped that this might be better done.”

“Here.” Arturius tosses one of the sheets from the cots. “Cover yourself.”

“I thank you,” the man says, humiliation riding high in his tone. “My lady, please forgive me, I did not think--”

“You...you are--” it is hard to find the words with your cheeks as hot as this -- “you are the lord of Laxdo’s son!”

He lets out a single, pained laugh. “I am afraid I am more than that now, my lady. I am Laxdo’s lord.”

“But--”

“Arturius!” Bedwyr sweeps into the room, ragged. “The men are all waking!”

“Wait, wait.” Shirayuki shakes her head, brow furrowed. “I removed his curse, and now everyone is healed?”

Izana lifts a hand in a lazy shrug. “So it would seem.”

“But...but...” She swivels, fixing on him. “But he didn’t want to be turned back! He wouldn’t let us, not until--” Shirayuki stops, her brain rushing to put the pieces together. “That was part of the compulsion. He wouldn’t let the curse be broken so that we -- so that I--”

She groans. “We could have done this in a day.”

“Welcome to Izanafinder,” Kiki deadpans. “He may not kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead.”

“My name is Shuuka,” the man says, better settled with the sheet around his hips. You still keep finding the wall just over his left shoulder fascinating. If only Bedwyr would be faster at locating the young lord’s costume. “I must admit, I had hoped you might remember it, my lady.”

You grimace. “I am...very bad with names. My father often despaired of it.”

And as in all his wishes, it bore very little fruit.

“I think I remember that.” He laughs, weary. “It is no matter. I am in your debt regardless.”

“Pray, do not think on it,” you tell him, even as Arturius grunts. “I would not have a soul beholden to me.”

You do not miss Beaumain’s cough, nor the amused way he watches you from the door. Doubtlessly, he would find time to say his piece on that, but it will not be now.

“But, my lady--”

“What would help us most would be if you told us what happened,” Arturius says, oddly strangled. “Since you are the only one that seems to remember.”

Shuuka blinks, as if he had forgotten his prince sat mere steps away. “Of course. I shall explain it all to you.”

“That would be--”

“But first.” He slips his hand around yours, smiling shyly. “We must celebrate how you have saved us.”

“Oh,” you breathe, gaze flying to Arturius. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I do not think--”

“Please, give me this,” Shuuka insists. “A banquet in your honor.”

You do not look at him, but you can feel Beaumain’s grin as a palpable touch. “Truly, it is not necessary. It was all of us who--”

“Ah yes, then in all your honor!” He squeezes your hand, and gives you a boyish smile that sends you straight back to girlhood. “All the men have been healed, and it would do them good to have a night of merriment.”

You cannot refute it would raise morale. Which would be much needed, once they took in the state of Laxdo’s disrepair. “I suppose...”

He leaps to his feet, thankfully taking the sheet with him. “Then a banquet it is!”

Shirayuki buries her face in her hands. “Oh my.”

“Oooh,” Obi croons. “Looks like you got some competition, my liege.”

Zen frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #Dungeons & Dragons AU #my fic #ans #for all of you that were hoping for flirting #YOU NOW HAVE THIS #also please enjoy 6.5K of this because THERE WAS NO GOOD PLACE TO STOP #I keep hoping this arc will wrap up so i get get to SOME STUFF but NOPE #can't possibly shut up XD

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twilightofthe · 4 years

Note

For the Star Wars questions- 16 & 19. :)

Thank you!!! (y’all this got ridiculously long for two damn questions lol)

Send me a number and i’ll tell u my fave/least fave:

16. Book/Comic (Aight, so I’m actually not a huge comic reader in general, most of my comic knowledge comes from other fans on here posting about them, so this is gonna be mainly book-focused)

FAVE: Welllllll, since I’m literally incapable of narrowing down my favorite anythings, I’m gonna do faves for both canon and EU novels.

Canon-wise, it’s a tie beween A New Dawn and Ahsoka. I know I don’t post about them as much on here, but I truly have a super soft spot for Kanera and Kanan and Hera’s characters, they’re just so GOOD and I love themmmmm aaaaaaaaa. You get super good insights to how Kanan was running wild and traumatized and trying to repress everything and how Hera was a little naïve but still tough as nails and she had a dream and she was going to make it happen or so help her, ugh I just love how the story showed how they’re strongest as a team working together and I just love character dynamics where the two are so obviously married and kinda snark at each other sometimes but they have each other’s backs through everything and know each other like the back of their hands and uggghhhh this is just such a healthy good ship and such a good book. The Ahsoka novel is just fantastic all on its own because it shows Ahsoka as a young adult, kinda floundering and lost in this new world, full of guilt over what happened with Anakin and the Order, trying to do what she can to help people and just enduring because she’s a survivor, she was raised (by two argumentative, adoptive parents who love her very much SO SAYETH THE BOOK) to be a survivor and handle herself, but that doesn’t mean she’s not lonely as all hell. And oof I just fucking adore Kaeden Larte and her relationship with Ahsoka (who absolutely comes back and marries her once the war is over oh yes) and her relationship with Miara and ugh just all of it is A+++++. E.K. Johnston is just an amazing author in general and her other book, Queen’s Shadow is one of my two canon runner ups because I am in love with her Sabé and her Padmé. Other canon runner up is A Certain Point Of View, if only for the “Time of Death” chapter. Don’t get me wrong, the rest of it is also fantastic, but oh god it kills me DEAD OBI WAN DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AND I CRY I REALLY CRY

EU-wise (oh god, I haven’t even gotten to least-faves yet), it has to be the Revenge of the Sith novelization. Without a question. Y’all it’s SO FUCKIN’ good, and in my personal opinion should be considerrred canonnnnnn (look I think the reason they gave for excluding it is that there’s no mention of Ahsoka or Rex or Mandalore or any of the stuff that happened literally the day before which is valid, but I counterpoint that Anakin is a mess with A Lot Going On At The Moment, he could have just forgot? He forgets most of his morals, all of his common sense, and three of his limbs by the end of the story, Snips could have just slipped his mind! xD). Anyway, besides the fact that it’s like 99% written in Obikin-colored glasses which really just makes me happy as a person because I love it being acknowledged just how important they are to each other, it really offers a deeper insight INSIDE the chaos going on in Anakin’s head, the mess, just why he falls so quickly and so awfully. I love it gives the Padmé plot that got cut on screen some validity. The beautiful beginning and the goddam introductions to Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi are just A++++++++++++++ and oof other people can more accurately describe just how good this book is, but I love it a Big Lot ok?

LEAST FAVE: Okey doke, here we go.... So firstly for canon, I’m not the biggest fan of how Claudia Grey writes Leia’s character. She’s a wonderful storyteller and I love her worldbuilding, but just the way she characterizes Leia herself never felt... right, ya know? Idk, I can’t really explain it, but it makes it difficult for me to enjoy her Leia novelsWarning right now that this is a VERY unpopular opinion and my opinion alone, please do not yell at me! So as skilled and admired an author Timothy Zahn is, I don’t like the Thrawn books. I’m sorry, I don’t. To me, Thrawn is just.... ok so he’s like BBC!Sherlock but in space. The plot makes a big deal about how “oooh cool and intelligent and Literally Better Than Everyone Else” Thrawn is, but the only way they really show his “cleverness” is by either him solving problems by pulling together information that literally no one but the writer knows and then acting like it was oh so obvious and in front of everyone OR, the story dumbs down other characters to make him look smart. And maybe it was because the one Thrawn book goes after Anakin/Vader in particular to do the latter is what kinda ticked me off on Thrawn books in general, but y’all, it really ticked me off, because Anakin is like the lowest hanging fruit for an author to pick to make their character look good in comparison, and therefore it is done All The Time (LOOKING AT YOU, CLONE WARS), which I think is lazy and an insult to Anakin’s character. Look, I am fully aware Anakin Skywalker is a dolt to the highest degree sometimes, but he is ALSO A GENIUS. He is SMART. IT IS CANON THAT HE IS SMART. So when the Thrawn book has Thrawn constantly one-upping Anakin The Useless Doofus (and Padmé a bit!!!) and then doing it again once he meets him as Vader, that just makes me hmmmm.

The canon comics are actually gonna be featured on the list here a bit because if y’all don’t already know my hatred for That One Particular Vader Comic (not the rest of the series run as I have not read it and from what I hear, it’s excellent and I’d probs like it a lot) doing the implication in a dream sequence where it says that Palpatine used the Dark Side to impregnate Shmi and create Anakin, well I HATE IT. Look, I know the plot was literally about Sidious trying to mess with Vader’s head and that dream shouldn’t be trusted, but it fooled all the fans too and now like 60% of Star Wars fans actually believe Sidious fathered Anakin and I am so damn tired of hearing about that. Yeah, now that Reylo is canon, that comic’s authors are trying to do damage control by saying that no, Sidious isn’t Anakin’s father and Rey and Ben are not second cousins, but they’re still being mysterious about it and “oh well it COULD be this--” so now there’s just more fans who are digging into that theory just because they don’t like Reylo and I don’t really care for the ship either but I really HATE the entire “Born of the Dark” concept for reasons I can explain more separately, so I’m pissy at that particular comic for spawning it. I know it’s petty but I do.

EU-wise, well, this is gonna be unpopular too, cuz I haven’t read most of the EU stuff, and from what I’ve heard of it, there doesn’t seem to be much that I WOULD like. The movie novelizations all seem good, but everything else??? “Obi Wan prequels but guess what, he had a shitty childhood too!” uh, no thanks, the rest of his life sucks enough, I want to see him happy. “Mandalorian worldbuilding, but they’re all a bunch of stoic, overpowered badasses who are Good At Everything And Better Than Literally Everyone and the plot bashes the Jedi left right and center!” ehhhhhhhh pass. “What happened after Return of the Jedi, except the Skywalkers still don’t get a happy ending because the galaxy goes to war again, Han and Leia’s son turns evil, Luke Suffers, and Palpatine comes back again!” nah, that sounds too depressing-- oh wAIT :) :) :)(at least the EU actually lets Han and Leia grow old and happy together okay okay that’s enough sequel salt for one day)

19. Outfit

FAVE: Everything Padmé Amidala wears in the movies. No I will not narrow it down. I am in love with her whole wardrobe and I want it.

I also love the standard Jedi tunics and tabards and cloak (c’mon, the cloak completes the picture!) It’s just such a signature and unique look that’s supposed to combine medieval European knight tunics and samurai warrior clothing and just the #aesthetic is oof, just wonderful.

Also Sabine Wren’s armor and its various paint jobs. It’s just so uniquely her and bright and beautiful and badass in all its stages and yes good I like it.

Also Lando Calrissian’s cloaks! Swooshy and colorful and good! I love cloaks!

LEAST FAVE: Gonna go with my petty, silly ones first, and those are all of Padmé Amidala’s outfits that are only seen in the The Clone Wars TV show (so not the ones that were based off of movie costumes). Eh, actually three of them were nice, her orange outfit she visits Mina in, her white casual housedress, and her black slinky Clovis dress. All of her other series-only outfits made me highkey pissy because they were either A.) Wrong for the situation she was in, B.) Defied the laws of physics and should not have held the shape they did/stayed on her body, or C.) just plain UGLY (the highest crime of all), and for the animators to have the audACITY to put any of those things in the mere vicinity of the most stylish woman in the galaxy is an insult to Padmé, an insult to ME, and an insult to Star Wars as a whole (yes, I am mostly joking, but come on!). No, I will not give the designers the excuse of clothing being difficult and expensive and time consuming to animate because I have SEEN the fancy, PRETTY outfits of the other ladies of Padmé’s status on the show. Everything Satine Kryze wore was intricately beautiful as all hell and I loved it. Riyo Chuchi’s two outfits were lovely and fashionable. Heck, I’m pretty sure I liked Mina Bonteri’s outfit too. There were tons of people on that show with stylish clothing! How hard would it have been for the animators to remember Padmé doesn’t wear exposed midriffs on official government business? That dresses with no sides or back cannot be sleeveless or they will not stay up? Not give her hairstyles that looked like either a goddam tuning fork or like Jimmy Neutron’s mother? That beige jumpsuits are BORING and adding a mauve vest is NOT enough to make it exciting!!!! xD xD xD

Aight, now in more seriousness, I also hated both of Ahsoka’s outfits in the original TCW show. Enough people have spoken on why sending a fourteen year old into an active warzone in a tube top and miniskirt is a BAD IDEA, but like it just makes me extra mad when you remember her older and more experienced at Not Getting Pulverized Masters were both in full concealing robes and chest and shoulder and shin armor, so you can’t even pass it off as Jedi not getting hurt as easily. Her updated outfit was only slightly an improvement because her Masters STILL got at least fully covering robes and arm bracers, while Ahsoka still had her entire back exposed, leg holes exposing valuable arteries and stuff, and a goddam boob window that basically signals “shoot me here”. Look, I know the animators goofed, and I know how they have learned from it because from Rebels on, they never show her as improperly covered for battle, in the new TCW season both outfits are cute and practical too, but seeing her running around in her red outfits actively impeded and took me out of my watching experience because I was cringing over her having a lack of protection, that it made her that much more vulnerable to injury.

Finally just gotta give a standard raised finger to the Slave Leia Bikini. Carrie Fisher hated it so I do too.

#thanks so much!#now i'm all worked up over Padmé's TCW costuming jeez #like there was one other outfit of hers the purple midriff exposing dress that was pretty i liked it #but like.... it was NOT something she would wear to meet the fucking Queen of Naboo like seriously #@ liz i got your ask too don't worry but it is a wee bit longer and i'm still working on it lol #asks #nerdgatehobbit #star wars #star wars stuff #queen of my heart #snip snap #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #ship: space parents #space cowboy #mvp (most valuable pilot)

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f-117-nighthawk · 4 years

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More playlist meta bc I don’t wanna do homework and Jimmy kicked me out of the TA room saying I’d been in there for far too long for a Friday (it was four hours! Interspaced between classes! Workshop kit inventory is just an excuse to blast Gloryhammer to me, it’s fun)

Since I was talking about Ten Thousand Against One earlier, I’ve been thinking about the timeline and which event the songs are connected to. Long post under the cut

Turn the Lights Out is... sort of an odd case. It’s not like Remnants of Stars, which is about Galran and my philosophy about how we were created, what happens to us when we die, and the cycles that power the universe. Of course, Remnants of Stars is a little more than just philosophy. It actually describes (in a rather metaphorical way) the actual process of the marthinazik filtering quintesence into new stars, planets, beings, anything you can think of. It also has a very important lyric for much much later like, post Sticky Notes later. Now that I think about it, it actually defines a good chunk of that maybe-sequel-maybe-idea era in conjunction with Soul Extract’s Filaments.

Anyway, back to Turn the Lights Out. It’s an odd case because it’s sort of like Remnants of Stars in that it’s more about the philosophy, but it’s before Remnants of Stars because it’s also kind of an event. If you read interviews with Delain about Moonbathers, Charlotte states that Turn the Lights Out is about Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, specifically the character of Death. I confess I haven’t read those comics, but my interpretation fits her rather well I think. To me, Turn the Lights Out is about a gentle god who accepts they will not always be seen as who they are but will give their everything to protect those within their universe. Now, who does that sound like? Which characters have been around since the birth of the universe, under various names, whether they be Ibeshganszá, ‘kibrraldíl, Marduzbazí, or Vôltrôn?

You can make an argument for Your World Will Fail to be directly after Turn the Lights Out, but I rather like it after Remnants of Stars too. Turn the Lights Out is the beginning of the universe, so naturally, it goes first. Sentient life needs to evolve for Remnants of Stars to truly fit, and even though Your Would Will Fail technically can happen at any point between the first Plank time and the next, it also happens when the comet that becomes Voltron crashes into Daibazaal. The Your World Will Fail/Dark Matter/Eater of Worlds trio is both a general, entire timeline-spanning idea, and a specific event.

(Your world will fail my love/It's far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can't imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I'm looking for someone to feed me)

And then, right after that event, or even during, you have Apocalypse 1992. The death of the dream, the final madness before the triumph of chaos.

You Keep What You Kill is very much the odd one out out of everything. Helion Prime based it off a book I forget the name of, but here it’s purely about Zarkon’s empire. The “Holy Half-Dead” have lost so much of their culture, of the family bonds that kept them together even when their mistakes threatened the destruction of all, but they still remember the songs of glory. And they do keep what they kill.

And then there’s a rather large time jump of about five thousand Earth years to The Seven Sisters. This song is pretty well encapsulated in Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) (which is a lyric from Closure, but Closure is later for Reasons), but the other half of it is connected to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met.

Who Will Save You Now has gone through so many iterations of what it’s connected to I honestly don’t remember what it actually is anymore. Given its placement between The Seven Sisters and Nobody Gets Left Behind, I think it’s related to the SFSS Genesis’s disappearance. But it could also be placed in conjunction with A Simple Plan and be about something slightly different...hm, I’ll think on that. This song has such a Dark Matter vibe to me, but it hasn’t found a home that sticks in my brain yet.

Nobody Gets Left Behind is really there bc it’s a fun song and when I found 1551 I immediately had to put something in. BUT it is a good song about family dynamics and, well, that’s Voltron in a nutshell right? (and then you get, right there in the first verse, “Don't even try to pretend/That you're rough and just as tough/As when you're missing a friend/Attack and take him back/Cause when the team isn't whole/You've got a hole in your soul/So step up to your fucking role/We might get hurt/We might be taking some hits/But when you're taking our friend/Then that's some personal shit” and you cannot tell me that’s not everybody’s mood post Battle in the Sarnan Nebula)

A Simple Plan is a new addition in the past few weeks. I rediscovered The Spiritual Machines a few weeks ago and the lyric “How long can we hold off ending/How long can we pretend we're ok” hit me right in the Keith feels. So this one is in conjunction with the first verse of Nobody Gets Left Behind. The entire song actually reminds me of Dark Matter with how it’s centralized at one event but contains hints of other things (The truth arrived too slow).

Memories of a Girl I Haven't Met is maybe one standard year (so six earth months-ish?) after A Simple Plan.

String Theory is... weird. It’s mostly there for the title, but the lyrics do contain themes found in other parts of the playlist that fit really well but don’t map to the event I associate the song with. It’s honestly about Shiro missing Adam and the rest of the people on Earth. Which, granted, given the point in the timeline the title is associated with makes a certain amount of sense but...idk. And the bit that begins with “You don’t believe in space” is about something entirely different. It’s confusing, but all inexplicably related to the title event.

Interesting fact: My Dark Matter drafts/ideas folder is actually split int pre- and post- String Theory folders. It was originally because String Theory is such a pivotal moment in the Coalition’s efforts, but it also ended up vaguely the middle of the timeline. It’s the point where things absolutely, truly, have no relation to what happens in canon. The butterfly effect stemming from the events of Shatterpoint (and an implied secondary shatterpoint in another fic) have changed things enough that apart from one general event, nothing happens the same way (and that event is for drastically different reasons). All in all, it fits the weird vibe of the song rather well.

Next is Belgrade, the Ultimate Klance Song, about three months later. Fun Shenanigans happen in conjunction with this absolute bop.

Here’s the surprisingly big gap of just over a standard Earth year, in which several important events happen that don’t have songs attached to them (Roentgen, maybe)

Then we get Birthright/Firewall, a set of songs about reclaiming yourself from the depths of hell with just a liiiiiitle bit of help from your family.

(It's time to take ahold of what belongs to me/It's time to walk away with no apologies/Voices in the mirror start quietly/And now they're screaming back at me!)

(This force knows what you can do/And what you can make/With your tattered shell)

Here Comes the Reign technically starts during Birthright/Firewall, but doesn’t come into full effect until a month later, and then even fuller around five months after that. Meanwhile, we have The Day the Earth Collapsed, which is rather self-explanatory.

A few months later there is Darker Matter. The fic connected to this is real weird, but also real important. Suffice to say it’s gonna be confusing, and a universe doesn’t like the Paladins for a while.

And then we have Closure. Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) is actually the first of four fics inspired by Closure’s chorus. (I also drew a picture for each fic. They’re combined into my desktop background, and the first one is still my phone background and my pfp) “I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye”

Closure is a rather sad song actually, but the way I’ve interpreted it ends on a bright spot of hope. The first related fic I’ve already posted/talked about, the second would be around the time of A Simple Plan. The third is somewhere in the gap between Belgrade and Birthright/Firewall. I’ve placed Closure at the approximate time of the fourth fic. I actually just moved it while writing this, because I realized this makes more sense after Darker Matter and with the Fall of [Redacted]. I’ve chosen to interpret the last line as finally deciding to stay instead of the (probably more likely given the rest of the album) darker interpretations.

After Closure is Ember, which is actually super connected to Darker Matter which is why I originally had them next to each other. The thing is, all three of these songs are connected to very specific events, the latter two of which are in direct response to the first even if there is a month or two between them. Ember is on the playlist for two reasons: the first is the line “dark matter falling from the sky” that basically required me to put it somewhere; the second is the fact that I keep mishearing the lyrics. “chthonic” is not “cuthonic” (which is not a word, but I interpreted as meaning Cthulu-like) and it’s “riches to embers” not “witches to embers.” Make of that what you will.

And finally, after almost seven Earth years, we get to The Reckoning/This is a Call/World on Fire/Louder Than Words. The Reckoning sort-of picks up where The Day the Earth Collapsed left off, spanning at least a year before going full force into the frantic five days of the other three songs.

(In blood and tears/A thousand times/We rise against/We'll always hold the line/Of reckoning)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dark matter playlist #to the tune of sketchy galore: meta galore #god I hope the under the cut works this is so long #its also two am i'm going to sleep it's been a long few hours #DM Playlists

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aromantic-misguide-to-romance · 5 years

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First impressions and unpopular opinion on Sasuke's route

So. I haven't been enjoying this route for many reasons including personal stuff it's dragging me through, but there are some things that are a huge turn off in terms of stories, especially romance, that I find in Sasuke's route up to the halfof chapter 7.

I tried my best to find something in this route and like it, since everyone seems to be hype and claim it’s the best route ever but I cannot and it seems I’m going to be the only one outcast here.

The reasonable reasons I have listed under the cut. So spoilers ahead.

First, the MC. She's getting tossed all over the place and her only attempt to live on her own gets punished. I don't think any of the MC's incarnations was this passive and talk only. She's saying nice words of support to Sasuke but they’re completely empty as she remains fully dependant on her LI. She uses insane otome MC logic too, misinterpreting all the red flags on Ranmaru instead on getting suspicious as a normal person would upon noticing someone’s persona is obviously fake.

Second, sheltering. Sasuke claims he wants her to see warlords as humans but keeps her from actually making any friendships with them, alienating her. This leads her to not notice a ploy of a jealous maid because she just doesn't know the people she's around. There are almost no interactions between the MC and other characters and then she claims they're her family, despite the route being the loneliest of them all. The only one who creates the bonds with the Oda forces is Sasuke, not her.

Sasuke hinders her adaptation to the point it's completely impossible for her to fit in and this is very disturbing. Especially since he was already been very close to stalking her, this route gets it up to eleven with almost no scenes when he isn't around, getting between her and the others. It's not his protective watching from afar, he's actively keeping her to himself.

Third, changes in supporting characters. Kenshin seriously attacking a woman despite his sword happy attitude was a comic relief and he was portrayed as despising violence towards weak targets? Because he's jealous? Mitsuhide, who's been mostly the supporter everywhere he appeared in, outing her knowing a spy during a war council to get her tortured and interrogated despite he knew she doesn't know the details? Trying to shoot them dead after they escaped?

Fourth, they turn a blind eye to an obvious double agent who can't stop from accidentally uncovering himself. Yandere Hideyoshi actually asks Nobunaga to forgive Ranmaru despite in any other route he'd go berserk. What is even happening?

Fifth and the most shitty - love heals, love is exceptional. In this route Sasuke is much more distant from anyone and just plans on ditching every friend he made despite in other routes he stays of the friendships he found and is actually even relieved when MC doesn't want to go back. What happened to the guy who'd stay with Kenshin? Of course this had to be deconstructed so MC is the only one he is actually bothered to leave because she's his love interest and she has to be the only exception. This basically devaluates all the friendships in the game because of a mere crush and is a deeply harmful motif that promotes alienating yourself and giving up long-term friendships for a romantic partner you barely know and pushes all other, much more meaningful relationships down as inferior.

And no, the backstory they gave him doesn't excuse it. He's been there for 4 years, enough for the relationships tp become meaningful and for him to start at least hesitating to end these friendships.

In the end I tried to read further despite all of that but had enough after a few lines and I’m not likely to ever get back to Sasuke anymore, so there will be no futher analysis probably.

#otome #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird #ikesen sasuke #first impressions #spoilers #hyolf's stuff

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deciduess · 5 years

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I think this is called a Peak Trans™ moment?

❌ LeSbOpHoBeS dO nOT iNtErAcT ❌

If you have a problem with this post, please see my bio before privately messaging me or reblogging. Thanks.

🌸

I need to vent about something.

A couple of weeks ago, a leftist Instagram account I followed posted these photos:

As a lesbian, I disagree with this post. The account in question encourages discourse, so I decided to comment on it. I’ll be referring to the account as “OP”.

I typed my original comment into my Notes app before sending it, which is the only reason I can share it with you (OP blocked me). It read as follows:

As a lesbian, I don’t think I’d date a trans person because I want a woman who can understand the experience of being socialized as female. I have a lot of trauma with regards to how I was born and socialized. Only other AFAB women will be able to relate to that— even if they haven’t been assaulted (or otherwise experienced what I have). Plus, as a cis person, there’s no way for me to understand the trans experience, so I think there’d be a huge rift between a trans girlfriend and I. I don’t think I’d be able to soothe her or relate to her deeply if she told me about trauma she has as a result of being trans in this society. Of course, trans people don’t usually say that they’ll ONLY date other trans people, but I think they have every right to have that preference.

Unfortunately, I cannot screenshot the rest of the thread, as I’m blocked. The thread isn’t visible to unblocked accounts either.

I will do my best to summarize the rest of the conversation.

Now, both of the people who responded to me were incredibly rude. They insulted me quite a few times, but I can’t remember exactly how they phrased everything, so I’ll just be summarizing their arguments-- minus the attitude. It’s important to note their abusive language, however, because it’s part of the reason this conversation affected me so negatively.

OP: You sound like a TERF. Also, I’ve never heard of a trans person who will only date other trans people. Sounds like a straw man just to excuse your transphobia. And how can you say that trans women aren’t socialized as women?

Me: No, trans women aren’t socialized as female. That’s what makes them trans as opposed to cis, right? They were assigned and socialized as male.

People with vaginas have to deal with much higher rates of sexual harassment and assault even in childhood. And we have to see ourselves assaulted again and again and again when we read the news, watch TV, or read books/comics. I’ve been called weak, unintelligent, and overall inferior all my life due to how I was born. Trans men can relate to this, but trans women cannot. All of this starts early— even before we’re born (I mean, look at gender reveal parties: “guns or glitter”).

OP: So what you’re saying is: trans women are men. Trans people are assaulted too. You’re making a blanket statement about all trans women [when you say they can’t understand female oppression/socialization]. What if a trans woman transitioned at a very young age?

*I decided to ignore OP’s question because... it’s fucking stupid lmfao. You can’t transition in the womb, and you certainly couldn’t consent to that as a baby.

Me: What?? I didn’t say that. You’re putting words into my mouth. Trans women are women, but they have different experiences than cis women.

I know that trans people are assaulted at higher rates than cis people, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that people with vaginas make up the vast majority of victims.

OP: That’s exactly what you’re saying. So, trans women have male privilege, huh? Just admit you’re transphobic and go. Now, answer the FUCKING question.

*I know I said I wasn’t going to convey the tone of these messages, but… wow. Males have told me to “answer the FUCKING question” several times in my life, so that got to me. Males literally can’t act like human beings. The fact that OP is just like any other male no matter how “they” identify is so evident here.

**Now, a trans “woman” starts attacking me. “She” replied to me three times, I think. But I don’t remember how the replies fit into the conversation, and “she” kept repeating “herself”. So, I’m just going to summarize all of that in this one comment.

Trans “Woman”: I’ve been female-socialized and harassed ever since I transitioned at age 16. Also, I’ve been called weak and unintelligent all my life, but thanks for assuming otherwise.

*At this point, I’m getting irritated by these two constantly misconstruing what I’m saying and denying my experiences. So, unfortunately, I use a passive-aggressive emoji. I also use two question marks instead of one. I’m not proud of that, but keep in mind, these two had been complete asshats to me this entire time.

I was so tired at this point. I was sharing my trauma (which isn’t easy for me to talk about,,,,), and I was being so nice. I was trying so hard to center them even though I was talking about my trauma. I didn’t understand why they weren’t reciprocating my energy.

Me: @trans”woman” I’ve been called ‘weak’ and ‘unintelligent’ because I have a vagina. It’s a little different. 🙃

@OP Wait, do you guys think that sex-based oppression doesn’t exist? Like, do you think trans men have the same privilege as cis men??

*OP doesn’t respond for a while. The trans “woman” never responds, either. Finally, OP replies…

OP: You know what? I think I’m just going to block you.

Anddd, that’s why I can’t include screenshots of the interaction on this post. I was kind of relieved that I didn’t have to deal with two MALES shitting on me anymore, though. 🙃🙃🙃

🌸

I grew up in a conservative household, but I’ve been a leftist ever since I was a late-teen. Since getting closer to adulthood, I’ve leaned far left on most issues before even reading other leftists’ opinions on the matters. Over the years, though, I’ve been a cetrist on a few topics.

Usually, this is because I don’t have all the information I need. So, when I notice that I disagree with the majority of leftists on something, I read more about it, and I read their opinions. I almost always end up agreeing with the leftist majority opinion on any given topic.

There are only two major issues I haven’t agreed with most leftists on yet: gun rights and trans rights. Leftists support the Second Amendment... I see both sides. I’m beginning to lean pro-Second Amendment, but that has happened before, so it could happen again. I’m not going to elaborate on this because this post isn’t about that.

When it comes to trans rights, I have NEVER understood the popular leftist opinion. I have been trying for years to understand trans people better. But in the end, my opinion has just been, “Well, I don’t have to understand your identity in order to support it and use your pronouns. Your identity isn’t hurting anybody, and no one should hurt you over your identity.” I still agree with that sentiment. I will still use trans people’s pronouns. I still want them to be safe.

But I’m done accommodating them at my expense. And if you’re a shithead to me, I don’t see a problem with putting your pronouns in quotes and referring to you as “males” instead of “AMABs” in a tumblr post that you’ll never see lmfao. It’s been so liberating to disrespect you (on a post you’ll never see) half as much as you disrespected me (to my face).

TRA’s have excluded AFAB women and trivialized their problems so much. Every single post about AFAB women is derailed (”whuttabout trans women???” “don’t you mean people with vaginas?????”). TRA’s suggest that there are no female-only experiences and sex-based oppression does not exist.

I’ve had many concerns with the Trans Rights Movement for years. But I’ve tried to understand. I wanted to actively support trans people. I didn’t want to merely use their preferred pronouns and tolerate them. I’ve followed TRA’s and read what they have to say...

But the Trans Rights Movement just,,, doesn’t,,,, make,,,,,, sense. This conversation sent me over the edge. I don’t care about understanding trans people anymore. If I can’t understand them in half a decade, I don’t think I ever will. Clearly, to these people, including trans “women” means excluding cis women. You’re trans-exclusionary if you talk about cis women’s experiences or issues. You’re trans-exclusionary if you say that trans “women” and cis women are different (unless it’s to say that trans “women” are superior/prettier or more oppressed).

🌸

Now that I don’t care about trans feelings anymore, I’m going to address the conversation from two weeks ago without sugar-coating anything.

Trans “women” will never have the same experiences as cis women.

I will not date a trans “woman” because I NEED someone who can understand the very specific trauma and physical pain of a female assault victim. I NEED my partner to be able to relate to being constantly berated and belittled in all forms of media— even when I try to relax or distract myself, I am constantly reminded that males hate me and think I’m a worthless incubator/dishwasher.

Two weeks ago, I was not concerned enough about the physical differences between trans “women” and cis women. But now, I think it’s a good time to discuss that, too.

It’s perfectly okay to not want to date a trans person because of their genitals.

Even after a trans “woman” has SRS, “her vagina” is NOT a female vagina. It is not self-cleaning. It has no muscles. It smells PUTRID. Neovaginas are repulsive, and they do NOT look like actual vaginas. A neovagina is the physical manifestation of a male’s soul: it’s a disgusting, smelly, functionless hole that is trying to emulate the natural divinity of a woman.

🌸

Now, I’d like to specifically address those two males:

Thank you guys for demonstrating my point that males can NEVER understand the female experience. :)

Thanks for proving that I’ll never be able to open up to males about my SA trauma. Males will always say that they have it worse and/or pretend that what happened to you has NOTHING to do with the fact that you have a vagina. If you’re vulnerable with them, they will stomp all over you. Males only care about themselves, even if they “identify” as women. :)

I would never be able to be in a relationship with someone that constantly belittles my feelings like this.

Also, to the trans “woman” who alleges “she’s” been ~“socialized as a woman”~ since the age of sixteen: no the fuck you haven’t. If you’d been socialized as female, you would be exceedingly nice to me, even if I spoke to YOU in the same way YOU spoke to ME. You would be super apologetic for stating your feelings and standing up for yourself. No matter how illogical you found my arguments, you’d still TRY to understand me because that’s the compassionate thing to do. If you were socialized as female, you’d put OTHERS’ feelings above your own.

But you haven’t been socialized as female. You’re just like every other MALE. You SPEAK OVER a female victim of sexual assault and pretend that YOU’RE more of an expert on HER OWN experiences than SHE is.

You tell women they’re not allowed to have boundaries or preferences. You have absolutely no compassion or humanity. You’re a MALE, AND you’re MALE-SOCIALIZED, and it fucking shows. You’re a disgusting, ignorant, unsympathetic brat that always needs to be coddled— just like every other male.

Also, yes, OP, all males have male privilege. Including trans “women.”

🌸

Two weeks ago, I had deluded myself into saying, “trans women are women.”

But the truth is, trans “women” are not women.

I’m attracted to women. I will never be attracted to a trans “woman.” I’m not sorry. It’s okay if other lesbians are attracted to trans “women,” but my lesbian identity does not include trans “women”. I don’t care if that’s politically incorrect. That’s MY sexuality.

I cannot change my sexuality, and I don’t want to. I love cis women. No male will ever be as strong, intelligent, poignant, or divine as a cis woman. A woman is born with all of these traits.

🌸

I’m certainly transphobic now-- that is quite evident. And I was also transphobic two weeks ago, even though I was trying to unlearn my transphobia. But nothing that I said to this person was transphobic. It’s literally fine to not want to date a trans person. A lesbian is not oppressing you by not wanting to date you lmfao. I openly admit that I am transphobic, but this is not the reason. I will not try to understand why my sexuality is “wrong.”

I’ve stayed out of TERF circles for years, even though TERF posts can be so informative, relatable, and comforting. Thanks to this experience, I’m gonna go ahead and follow whoever tf I want. I'm grateful that this interaction has caused me to start prioritizing my feelings and my rights.

Honestly, trans “women” deserve to be excluded. Males deserve to be excluded. Idgaf about how that makes you feel anymore. You don’t give a shit about how I feel. And you don’t feel guilty when you exclude real women.

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scarletwitching · 5 years

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You said Jonathan Hickmans Avengers made you real mad? Could you (or have you) elaborate on that?

When I first sat down to answer this, I decided I should re-read the run, so that I could better articulate what bothered me about it. Then I tried to re-read it, and I quickly went, “No. That’s not happening.” I didn’t get very far, which is why this won’t be the most well-argued post.

The thing that made me so mad that I quit reading most regular Avengers comics was the last issue where Steve and Tony punch each other while the world ends.

Avengers Vol. 5 #44

It’s a terrible scene, and it puts me in mind of this article about The Force Awakens.1

When you’ve actually invented a tragedy that’s hundreds of thousands of times bigger than the Holocaust (in a film that prominently references Nazis) only in order to threaten that they’re about to do it again, in a matter of seconds, YOU CANNOT ASK YOUR AUDIENCE TO CARE THAT SOME GUY AND HIS SON ARE WASTING THOSE ESSENTIAL SECONDS HAVING A MOMENT ON A BRIDGE.

No. You cannot. That is a fatal flaw. That is an inversion of stakes so monstrous that it makes the film actually despicable.

The world stops when two white men need to hash out their feelings.

I found the way Steve and Tony’s relationship was handled towards the end of that book to be uncomfortable and bad. “You lied to me!!!!11” Okay? Aren’t you guys supposed to be heroes? Shouldn’t you be focused on saving all the life in the universe? Who approved this characterization?2 Who thought this was a good idea? Why am I supposed to care about this when the world is ending? It seems like Hickman was just using their relationship (and the precedent set by Mark Millar) as an excuse to write them, particularly Steve, in the most unlikable way possible. ‘Oh, you know Steve and Tony. They’re just evil when they’re together.’

Over the past couple of decades, Marvel has decided that everyone is deeply invested in that dynamic, and I just… don’t care about it. That’s not to say that no one cares about it. We all have different tastes, and that’s fine. But that relationship is not for me, and it’s so overexposed that I don’t want to read comics about it anymore. Hickman’s Avengers was my breaking point. After that, I decided no more Steve and Tony, if they’re going to act like that around each other. Even if they aren’t, I still need a break. A years-long break.

…and then there was the part where the Avengers went to a sovereign nation, broke into the home of some civilian refugees fleeing a genocide, and beat them up. This is getting a little long, so I’ll put the rest under a cut.

Infinity #1

It’s exactly what I said. They went to Italy (Hawkeye now speaks perfect Italian for some reason). They broke into an apartment inhabited by refugees who had fled a genocide. They had been (illegally??) spying on the refugees, but hadn’t tried to piece together any information about them as individuals or their situation. There’s no evidence that the refugees hurt or even bothered anyone. But the Avengers broke down their door, and without putting any actual effort into a peaceful solution, beat them up and arrested them.

This was written in 2013. Not that there’s ever a good time to write this, but wow, this was written in 2013.

Oh, and Infinity’s final issue has this aside:

Infinity #6

There’s a counterargument here that the Skrulls are just aliens, and it’s not that serious. My counterargument to that counterargument is Secret Invasion. Secret Invasion is the most famous modern Skrull story, and it is the context a Skrull story from 2013 would be understood in. It’s also an Islamophobic metaphor where the Skrulls are religious extremists who want to take over Earth and who keep saying “jihad” for some reason, despite being aliens. I don’t think the Skrull scene from Infinity is as bad as Secret Invasion, but it’s also not good.

This scene speaks to deeper problems I have with Hickman’s Avengers run. He takes an authoritarian angle with the team. The Avengers aren’t just superheroes in his vision. They’re imperialist ICE agents. When I think about Hickman’s work, I always come back to that first issue of Ultimates he wrote, where no female characters speak and the most important on-page role a woman has is to give an Important Man™ his coffee.3 That issue ends like this:

Ultimate Comics: Ultimates #1

Once upon a time, the Avengers answered to bureaucrats. Now, everything is SHIELD, and presidents defer to superheroes. For some, this is a subtle change, a difference in details they don’t care about. To me, it fundamentally alters the nature of the team and the world they reside in. I can root for an Avengers team that has to steal a bus because their security clearance was taken away.4 I have a much harder time rooting for Hickman’s authoritarian god-men who hold the fate of all life in their hands, but choose to be petty and insular.

For Hickman, it’s an Avengers’ World, but an Avengers’ World is not one I’m interested in. It flattens the overall texture of the Marvel Universe, and it does a disservice to the Avengers themselves. They are much less relatable, likable, and human when it’s an Avengers’ World.

This is the point where I have to say, “Maybe we’re supposed to know that the Avengers are bad in this, and that’s the point.” I’m not sure how much I believe that though. Do I think Hickman thinks everything they’re doing is good and right? No, but he doesn’t do a good enough job of analyzing and critiquing their actions within the narrative to justify things like the Skrull scene. Depiction =/= endorsement, but you should be saying something greater than “these characters do bad stuff sometimes.” I’m not convinced Hickman’s Avengers has much self-awareness or commentary.

I don’t agree with the fandom line of thinking that Big Two characters are sacred and we should never do anything that might be negative with them. There are, for example, criticisms of Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch’s Ultimates that begin and end with, “They made Captain America a xenophobe, and that’s bad because Captain America is supposed to be a good guy.” I don’t see it that way. There are problems with Ultimates, but it’s an alternate universe that ought to be allowed an alternate take. Writers should be allowed to say something, via a character called Captain America, besides “Steve is nice.” It matters how it’s handled though, and I’m not sure it’s even worth it to try. There is so much emotional investment in these characters that it’s difficult to make sharp political statements with them.

Going back to depiction vs. endorsement, we’re supposed to know Millar and Hitch’s Ultimates are bad people, but that doesn’t make the sexism (or the outdated Freddie Prinze Jr. references) any less real. That book is trying to say something, and it aims to be a satire. But it lacks the necessary tact and finesse to make that work.

To steal from someone else’s Hickman critique: “That’s the point.” “That doesn’t make it better.”

Worst of all, Hickman’s Avengers made me feel bad for Rick Remender. His run on Uncanny happened concurrently with Hickmanvengers, and Remender made a big deal of pushing back against the narrative that had come out of Avengers vs. X-Men about the Avengers being jack-booted thugs. To the point where he had Captain America say, “We’re not jack-booted thugs” in the first issue.

Uncanny Avengers Vol. 1 #1

And then along came Hickman screaming, “Never mind!! Yes, they are!!!” Imagine trying to make a point about the Avengers not being authoritarian assholes while someone else is writing this in a different title:

Avengers Vol. 5 #35

You can tell Remender wasn’t pleased because he got salty about being negatively compared to Hickman in the Uncanny Avengers annual. In true Remender fashion, it was inappropriately salty, but I understood where he was coming from.

Uncanny Avengers Annual 1

Let me be clear: No one is lesser because they like Hickman’s Avengers. It’s not a reason to insult someone. Remender is being facetious (and kind of a jerk) here. But there is some truth in poking fun at the “indecipherable mysteries.” I’ve already talked some about what’s wrong with Remender’s criticism, so I won’t dwell on this too much.

Overall, Hickman’s tastes and mine seem diametrically opposed. I prefer smaller casts and stakes. I like personal, character-driven stories about women. I want nuanced characterization and subtle, organic character development. And I don’t get any of that from Hickman’s work. Some people find his character arcs compelling, but I don’t. The Steve/Tony dynamic in his run is so over the top and inauthentic that it would be comical if it weren’t so annoying. I read a Hickman comic, and I just see nonsense words and no real emotions. It’s all Important Men™ and the women who bring them coffee.

Anyway, the best thing about Hickman’s Avengers is that Wanda isn’t in it. We dodged a bullet there. A true W for the home team.

1. I don’t care about Star Wars. Please do not yell at me about Star Wars.

2. It was Tom Brevoort. It’s always Tom Brevoort.

3. Someone’s gonna tell me to read East of West. No, I haven’t read East of West. I’ve heard he handles the female characters in that better, but I couldn’t say whether or not that’s true.

4. The bus scene still has them kicking everyone else off, but it gives those people a voice, however briefly. The Avengers are still people in that scene. They’re not an absolute authority with power over everyone else.

#the chaos magics #answered

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