#I’m mostly shouting into the void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

island-in-the-shadows · 3 months

Text

The Finale, the Devil, His Minion & His Turning

Before I begin, let me state with clarity that I am not an expert in book lore. I’m, at best, semi-pro. I, however, do my due diligence when it comes to my passions and my hyperfixations and this has been one that has stuck around for most of my life. So, I wanted to weigh into the whole Devil’s Minion situation as pertains to how S2 ended as well as implications for the future of it combined with the bits and pieces of things we’ve heard RJ etc say regarding it. I know this is all a big kerfuffle one way or the other. I’m writing this mostly for myself, but I wanted to share with anyone who wants to read because fandom metas are fun even if we disagree with parts of them or even the whole of them. So, disclaimer aside, strap in for this very long post…

Let's talk about Devil's Minion and the implications of the Season 2 finale.

First things first, let’s discuss Daniel Molloy. He’s a difficult guy and I get why there’s a bunch of people who dislike him even though I can’t relate. I love him. I love that he’s a sassy loudmouth who has even louder opinions and can be horribly inappropriate. I love that, when he’s doing his thing, he’s like a dog with a bone and he won’t let go. I love that he has suffered for it because the consequence of being a dog with a bone, of having an addictive personality, of having sarcasm and sass as a defence mechanism, and of having a truly atrocious sense of self-preservation is that he got fucked up by vampires, blew up his life, “destroyed two marriages,” and “fucked up two daughters.” He’s not the character that people who want to black/white moralise this show can point to as a bastion of “goodness,” even if he was, until recently, the only human main character. In fact, it’s precisely because he was human that it made sense that he was a fucked up person. After all, all humans have their good and bad aspects.

And then, he was turned (offscreen so that people like me can shout manically into the void). I LOVE that he was turned. I’ll get into the larger implications of it later but, for now, I want to explain why I enjoy Vampire Daniel.

For a bit of background, here’s what we know about his book counterpart in broad strokes: he smokes, he interviews Louis in San Francisco, he published Interview with the Vampire anonymously, he went to NOLA searching for Lestat but found Armand instead, cue here everything that has to do with the 12 years in which he and Armand were what they were together, he’s an ash blonde with violet eyes, he’s an addict, he’s a sarcastic loudmouth, he’s morbid, he went mad, he liked building miniature cityscapes, he spent most of the years of his madness (and some after he regained his sanity) with Marius, he and Armand reunite after +- 25-30 years of separation. That’s it. There’s a lot about him that you can certainly infer in the limited page amount where you can read about him, but that’s about it. We especially don’t get to know much about him after he is turned aside from when he got the vampire zoomies at Lestat’s concert and Maharet’s compound, his madness, Marius, his cityscapes, and his reunion with Armand.

Seeing Daniel Molloy be a vampirically amplified version of himself BY himself is, to me, extraordinary. Here, he’s, technically, unconnected to any of the other vampires and is standing on his own two feet. He chose to publish the book with his name on it (which is fucking insane when you think about it), he’s the one choosing to “call” Louis every week to check in on his bestie, he’s the one choosing to comment on some guys headphones before he eats him. In scant minutes we were presented with the vampire Daniel as an individual. This, in many ways, outdoes how he exists as a vampire in the books where he is never truly disconnected from one of two well-known vampires: Armand, and Marius.

Secondly, we seldom, if ever, get a vampire in live-action film or TV who looks 60+ in mortal years who, by design, is a sexy swaggering sarcastic menace who wears a leather jacket, an AC/DC tee, and cunty sunglasses. I racked my brain trying to find other vampires who look “older” in human years and even asked friends to help me and, ultimately, came to the following list of best examples (but feel free to tell me more): Gary Oldman in Dracula who is made to look creepy before he gets de-aged in order to be “sexy,” Bill Nighy as Viktor in Underworld, who looks great and powerful, but he’s the villain and he’s not technically designed to inspire anything more than loathing, and Viago’s long-lost lover in What We Do in the Shadows, Katherine ( from which we get the fun Viago being a cradle snatcher meme). This is all my opinion, but it’s fantastic to have a man in his 70s with wrinkles and grey hair be turned into a vampire and be framed as desirable and powerful. Personally, I want to see more vampires who are adults and older adults vs consistently seeing teens and people in their early twenties.

That being said, as much as I love Daniel being a man/vampire in his seventies, this fact alone upends one of the major beats of the relationship between him and Armand as written in Queen of the Damned. The part that is irreparably changed has nothing to do with Daniel’s age because that is irrelevant to Armand who, in book canon, wanted Daniel to live a mortal life, much to Daniel’s chagrin. He even tells Daniel, “Don’t you realise that any one of us would give it up for one human lifetime?”

Daniel doesn't believe him but their arguments regarding mortality only have a level of resolution in 1985 when Armand turns a dying Daniel. What changes here is twofold: the first is that Akasha did not wake from her sleep (which tracks with the timeline of the show thus far, as she wakes up because of Lestat’s music and she ruins the world tour). The second is that, presuming that Daniel and Armand had a past in the 70s and 80s, which is very likely, Armand let Daniel go. Armand letting Daniel go is a HUGE change. Yes, part of him likely let Daniel go because he was still involved with Louis whereas in the book he didn’t have a partner at the time. However, presuming that Armand and Daniel’s relationship in the 70s and 80s was as codependent and obsessive as it was in the source material, letting this one mortal boy go was arguably one of the most emotionally difficult things Armand has ever had to do. It changes a whole host of things in their dynamic moving forward.

This is why the fact that so many are turning on it now after 2x8 is a little baffling to me. I am a pessimist at heart, especially when it comes to things like this because I have been burned time and time again. It’s been a shock to me that so many who were rock solid on this after 2x5 are now panicking. And yet, I understand the concerns.

For example, according to Louis and later repeated in interviews by Rolin and sort of by Assad, Daniel was turned out of “spite.” Assuming that this is true, it is devastating. In the source lore, Daniel was turned out of love. Armand tells Daniel he’ll turn him “[…]because I am a coward. And I love you too much to let you go.” Except, in the show’s universe, Armand has already let Daniel go once even if it wasn't because Daniel was dying. Then again do we know if the younger Daniel was dying? If he overdosed once or multiple times? No. But at some point, Armand let him go. At some point, Daniel’s memory of whatever time he spent with Armand was erased. Presuming that something like this happened, that act alone was not out of spite.

Further, it is Louis who said Daniel was “burdened out of spite.” Except Monsieur du Lac has a very particular perspective and is currently quite cross with his ex. Those words, if I may borrow from book Armand, “That’s Louis’ language.” Note that while Daniel retorts, “Make it up to me. We’ll do a follow-up book,” this comes after Louis says “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.” Daniel neither confirms or denies that he was made out of spite. He’s, to some extent, assuaging Louis’ guilt while segueing to try to get something he wants from Louis. We didn’t see Daniel being turned so we can’t be certain where it happened or when it happened or why it happened.

I know you’re probably reading this and going: but Rolin said they wouldn’t build the Dubai set again! Rolin said we won’t see the turning! Rolin said it was out of spite! Yes, fellow tumblrina, I know. But, like Claudia’s journals, like Louis’ or Armand’s narration of events across both seasons, anyone working on the show would have cause to obfuscate, omit, or lie. After all, was it not Rolin who also said we weren’t getting Rockstar Lestat when we are, in fact, getting Rockstar Lestat? Ah! That, my friends, is an unreliable witness.

Any creator can lie about their work for whatever reason they see fit including marketing or trying to keep spoilers away. To use a recent example, Andrew Garfield consistently and frequently lied that he was not in Spiderman: No Way Home. Oh, there was a set leak picture? No, that wasn’t him it was a double. He kept that party line until the movie came out, regardless if people knew or not. Same thing applies here and it creates doubt. The tricky part of this all is that, because Season 3 is The Vampire Lestat, it’s likely that anything we do see regarding Daniel and Armand will be quite limited.

Another thing that truly frustrates longtime Devil’s Minion girlies, especially those who have religiously read the Devils Minion chapter (really, it’s the only thing we have to go off of because Anne Rice put Daniel on a shelf and never really took him off it except in vague mentions in other vampires’ stories and, I guess, she wanted us to go fuck ourselves because Daniel is basically a negative footnote in The Vampire Armand) is the implication that Daniel wants to know where the fuck his maker is because he has been abandoned. We keep thinking: Armand would never abandon a newly turned Daniel. I’ve seen plenty of posts and some fics fully assuming that Armand turned Daniel in the penthouse and then left him right then and there. Which tracks only if he were being made out of spite. Except, at this time, we simply do not know that that is the case. Likewise, we do not know that Armand immediately abandoned Daniel.

Why are we assuming this? Because Louis says he left them alone? He did but, he also told Daniel to get his things because he’d “arrange a car and a plane to take you home”. With Louis’ money and power, he could’ve had Daniel on a plane to JFK in, tops, an hour. If we want to suppose that it was out of spite, then Louis just left Daniel alone with Armand right away? Louis didn’t change his clothes or pack a bag or grab a wallet to go to NOLA? He had his Amex with him at the hotel and he was wearing different clothes, so there is time unaccounted for in Dubai. Then we have to suppose that a newly turned and abandoned Daniel was alone or eating staff in the penthouse despite being expected on a flight that was probably private, because Louis wouldn’t have done it by half measure if he wanted Daniel out of there ASAP. Then we have to consider the amount of time that Louis was supposedly in NOLA. How long would it have taken him to go to NOLA, have his reunion with Lestat, wait out a hurricane, come back and find a fucked up Daniel in that penthouse? We’re still missing time.

I could present you a different scenario. I could say that Armand stalked Daniel back to NY (which would be on brand, but I digress) and turned him there out of spite or not out of spite. That Daniel remembers or doesn’t remember their past together. That Armand possibly stayed with Daniel some time until Daniel, rightfully pissed off for San Francisco or the gaslighting Armand did to Louis or directing the trial or erasing Daniel’s memories or any of the fucked up shit that Armand did in their shared past (there’s a LOT that this gremlin has done that would make Daniel angry), asked Armand to go away. I could even tell you that in Queen of the Damned Daniel and Armand fought, a lot. I could tell you that Daniel left Armand for months at a time when he was pissed off because Armand wouldn’t turn him. I could tell you that after Daniel was turned, things soured between him and Armand dramatically and, per Armand, Daniel left him.

I can quote Queen of the Damned to state my case:

“Conversations, sparring matches, and downright fights became the rule.”

“Ugly fights, terrible fights, finally, Armand broken down, glassy-eyed with silent rage, then crying softly but uncontrollable as if some lost emotion had been rediscovered which threatened to tear him apart.”

“And the wandering started, the escaping, and Armand did not follow him. Armand would wait each time until Daniel begged to come back. Or until Daniel was beyond calling, until Daniel was on the verge of death itself. And then and only then, Armand would bring him back.”

I can quote The Vampire Armand for you in the parts relevant to Daniel to show you the contentious separation that also reeks of Armand’s self-loathing and his desire to complete his self-fulfilling prophecy even though it’s painful for me:

“…the boy, who had been my faithful mortal companion, and only sometimes an intolerable nuisance…”

“Daniel, though alive and wandering, though civil and gentle, can no more stand my company than I can stand his. Equipped with my powerful blood, he can contend with any who should be foolish enough to interrupt his plans for an evening, a month or a year, but he cannot contend with my continuous company and I cannot contend with his.”

“I pushed his face into the flesh of the first young innocent he had to slaughter for his inevitable thirst, and thereby fell off the pedestal on which he’d placed me in his demented, over imaginative, feverishly poetical and ever exuberant mortal mind.”

“[…]when gaining Daniel as a fledgling, I lost him as a mortal lover and gradually began to let him go.”

“[…] I rejoined the world in a way which I had not done since my fledgling, my one and only fledgling, Daniel Molloy, had left me. My love for Daniel had never been entirely honest, and always viciously possessive, and quite entangled with my own hatred of the world at large, and my confusion in the face of the baffling modern times which had begun to open up to me […] Daniel himself had no use for the world […] Heaping every luxury upon him, I only sickened him with mortal sweets so that finally he turned away from the riches I offered, becoming a vagabond. Mad, roaming the streets in rags, he shut out the world almost to the point of death, and I, weak, muddled, tormented by his beauty, and lusting for the living man and not the vampire he might become, only brought him over to us through the working of the Dark Trick because he would have died otherwise.”

“[…]he loathed me in his heart for having initiated him into Living Death, for having made him in one night an immortal and a regular Killer. As a mortal man, he had no real idea of the price we pay for what we are, and he did not want to learn the truth; he fled from it, in reckless dreams and spiteful wandering.”

The last sentence in the quote above fucking bullshit, by the way, because Daniel actively asked to see Armand kill and Armand told him no but, whatever.

“and so it was as I feared. Making him to be my mate, I made a minion who saw me all the more clearly as a monster. […] There was never any chance, no matter how beautiful the twilight gardens in which we wandered. Our souls were out of tune, our desires crossed and our resentments too common and well watered for the final flowering.”

But for all those quotes, for all the extrapolating, and for all the suppositions, we simply do not know. We weren’t given concrete answers to anything. Which, yes, is frustrating as all fuck. Because, if we read into it at face value, if we follow that this trend would destroy two characters and a core relationship and what it means to them both in the long run, then we have to accept defeat. We have to admit that the writers of this show don’t actually care about this pairing or these characters as individuals. We have to admit that something that we have wanted (and some of have wanted this since Queen of the Damned came out in 1988) is never going to happen. That we, like Louis, have been gaslit and taken advantage of.

We’d have to reframe all the charged looks, the oddly sexual “yeah,” Armand knowing how to make drinks to Daniel’s exact tastes, Armand de-escalating Louis’ humiliation of Daniel (I know some of you think he was making it worse but, neither the tone of Armand’s voice or his facial expressions read that intention to me, sorry), the overly elaborate courses of food served to Daniel (which, to book readers, is a nod to when Armand ordered everything in a restaurant for Daniel), the brief announcement of a Night Island spinoff, Armand feeling the need to justify himself directly to Daniel in 2x6, putting Assad and Eric/Luke together for press stuff, etc. are all some sick trick. That they either want to make it into enemies to lovers (which it never really was) and forfeit its true meaning or, worse, that it’s all been shipbaiting to keep us on the hook when Devil’s Minion girlies already know that this is the Lestat and Louis show.

I get it. This is not what many of us wanted. We wanted to see the turning. We wanted to see it be about love. We wanted to see Daniel get even a hint of who he and Armand had been to each other in the past, because they definitely had one. We wanted confirmation that, once upon a time, Armand found some of his humanity through a mortal he loved and that, after 30+ years apart, he broke the rule he withheld for nearly 5 centuries because of his love for this boy. We got none of it. All we know is that Armand turned Daniel, that Daniel doesn’t know where his maker is, and that Daniel’s pissed at him. That’s it.

It leaves us, essentially, with nothing. Frankly, it’s more of a nothing than I thought we were going to get. Again, this is the Lestat and Louis show. They are the protagonists and it is their stories (apart and together) that are the A plot. So all that we can do, if we want to see a good version of Devil’s Minion, is wait and hope. Hope that the good writing that has been done in sections of the show holds true to this also. Hope that, given that the plot hole we ALL noticed in 1x2 was explained in 2x8, all of the subtle hints we have been given are actually going to pay off. Hope that this team, that has put a lot of love and care into this show, doesn’t massively fuck over two characters. Hope that someone gets Eric violet contacts in S3 (unless it’s like the theory @cbrownjc has regarding body swapping which would be very interesting---also if you haven't already, follow her, her blog is incredible and has fantastic insights) because if they can give Jacob green ones, there’s no fucking excuse.

(Yes, this is a nitpick. As an aside, the established vamps do change shades of eye colour, because Louis and Lestat have had at least 2 shades of green and blue respectively in S2, and Armand had 3 shades of amber/brown/reddish orange in 2x8 ALONE. The weird bit with Daniel’s eyes specifically is how dramatic of a colour shade change it is, how quickly the change happens, and that, say it with me kids, NONE OF THE SHADES ARE VIOLET.)

Listen, this hasn’t really had a thesis statement but I’ve ranted enough that it could be an actual term paper. But I want to end this by saying that what gives me hope is that, thus far, the quality of this show, in every aspect, is fantastic. Heck, I get hope in the fact that the Loustat girlies have been DEEP in the trenches for two seasons and it’s getting a little better for them. Louis is where he needs to be at this point of the story and we know that Lestat, the real Lestat, is coming. Goodness knows, Sam’s gonna keep fighting to make sure it is the real Lestat, warts and all, even with the changes that most people didn’t like. So, let’s hope. Let’s hope that the showrunner/head writer is, yet again, being a massive troll. Let’s hope that the writing team actually understood what the point of Devil’s Minion was and where its beauty lay and that they don’t diminish it to be something entirely foreign. Let’s hope that the massive holes, the missing time, missing scenes, all equate to a net positive. Let’s not give up yet.

TL;DR Don’t be fatalistic about how S2 ended and what it means for Devil’s Minion, because there’s way too much that is missing to conclusively write it off at this time.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #Daniel Molloy #the vampire armand #devil's minion #the devil's minion #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #eric bogosian #assad zaman #jacob anderson #sam reid #rolin jones #there's a lot more to discuss and speculate and go into #this is not the end all be all of this discussion but it would take me many more pages to go through it all #also please be kind if I missed anything I did re-read the chapter for this and rw 2x8 but im probably missing stuff

46 notes · View notes

simple-seranade · 2 years

Text

Repair My Broken Gears

Something is wrong with Scar. Cleo regrets signing up for this.

(That’s a lie. They’re terrified what would have been if they hadn’t.)

CW: loneliness, arguing? that’s about it

in which sera takes a single line of dialogue scar had about knowing loneliness and runs with it

(also i was thinking of @stiffyck the entire time i was writing this so like. sorry if this tag is unwanted lol)

>>>>>>>>>*<<<<<<<<<

Look, Cleo isn’t worried. She isn’t. She isn’t.

But-

It’s just-

She sighs, running a hand through their tangled orange hair as they watch Bdubs and Scar bicker and laugh by the animals.

It’s something about the way Scar seems so insistent on finding a way to be useful. How he makes off-handed comments about knowing what it’s like to be alone, accompanied by a flippant laugh that does nothing to quell the small pit that grows in Cleo’s stomach at the words. How his face will fall for a split second when Cleo jokes not to call them “mom” before bouncing back to that damn grin of his. How that grin becomes so much more real when she does something as simple as toss him some food or ruffle his hair.

So no, Cleo isn’t worried. Just… healthily concerned.

They can practically hear Joe lecturing them about emotional awareness. He is so lucky he doesn’t come to these things, otherwise she would be whittling his clock down without a second thought.

A shout rings out across entertainment mountain, and Cleo sees Scar holding Bdubs’ clock- the one Impulse gave him, not his countdown- above his head, well out of the shorter man’s reach. As Bdubs lets out a string of words that sound way cruder than they actually are, she sighs. She should probably go stop them before one of them falls off of the mountain. Again.

Void, she really did just pick two idiots to team with, didn’t she?

Still, as she approaches the two men, she can’t find it in her to regret it.

“Scar! Bdubs!”

Their gazes snap towards her, eyes wide. Bdubs is the first to start talking.

“Mom-“

“Not your mom.”

“-he took my clock!”

Scar quickly stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “What? No I didn’t!”

Cleo raises an eyebrow at him.

“… ok, I did, but he started it!”

“I DID NOT!” Bdubs tugs on Scar’s arm, trying to get his hand- and subsequently, the shorter man’s clock- out of his pocket. This, to no one’s surprise, does not work, mostly because Scar is a good foot and a half taller than Bdubs. This does not stop him from trying.

This also does not stop them from bickering with steadily increasing volume.

“Hey, hey, hands off the merchandise, Bdubs!”

“I put my hands where I darn well please! You keep your hands off my stuff!”

“I don’t have your stuff!”

“Bullcrap! I see it in your pocket!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Jeez! If I had known I’d be getting conned with my own schtuff I’d have had second thoughts about this team-up!”

It’s almost unnoticeable, so quick that Cleo can almost convince herself she imagined it. But, for a split second, Scar flinches.

“I- Well, it’s what I do, Bdubs!”

“You con and lie and bully! This is bullying!”

Void, Cleo does not get paid enough for this.

“BOYS!”

The two men freeze in their tracks.

“Scar, give Bdubs his clock back. Bdubs, apologize for yelling- actually, wait, both of you apologize for yelling.” They cross their arms, staring the men down.

Bdubs sputters. “What- no, I’m not apologizing, why wou-“

He’s cut short by a soft clinking sound. With wide eyes, he looks between his hands, where his golden clock now sits, and Scar, whose gaze is fixed firmly on the ground as he turns away.

“Sorry, Bdubs. I’ll just- yeah. You’re good. Sorry.”

“I- sorry, Scar, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, no, you’re fine! You can just- you stay here with Mo- Cleo, I’m gonna go get- get some air.”

“Scar, wait-“

Bdubs’ words fall on deaf ears as Scar hops off the rocks, towards the base of the mountain. He turns to Cleo, brow furrowed. “Was it something I said? Did I-“

“I don’t know, Bdubs.” The pit in her stomach is back, gnawing and twisting as she stares at the spot where Scar just was.

“… what do we do?” His voice is quiet, so unlike how it normally sounds. It makes Cleo want to shake him until he’s back to his usual self.

“We don’t do anything.” She sighs, turning to face her friend. “You go ahead and get some rest. I’ll talk to him.”

“But-!”

“No buts.”

Bdubs sags, his shoulders slouching considerably. Cleo reaches forward, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Bdubs.” She waits until he looks up, meeting their eyes. “It’ll be ok, alright?”

Bdubs pauses before nodding hastily. “Of course, of course- I- I have no doubt. The great Bdubs just- just needs to go get some sleep.”

“You go do that.” They squeeze his shoulder one last time before letting go, turning towards the edge of the mountain.

“Goodnight Mom!”

“I will stab you in your sleep!” She tosses over her shoulder as she carefully slips down, doing her best to take minimal fall damage.

Scar is… much farther down than they expected. It takes a good minute of scaling down to finally see him, walking around with a frantic fervor and muttering under his breath. The words become clearer as they approach, and with them, so does the anxious feeling creeping in her mind.

“… can’t go back up to the chests. There goes my chance at a monopoly. Still, it’s between that or them being mad at me for taking stuff and then-“

“Scar?”

The man freezes in his tracks. Cleo takes a step closer.

“Scar, what was that up there for?” She tries to keep her words from being cruel, but receives a flinch nonetheless. She’s not sure how she expects him to respond, but…

“Sorry, I’m leaving. It- It’ll not happen again, no need to worry!” The upbeat tone has no place with the shaky voice and trembling hands accompanying it as he begins pacing again.

“You know Bdubs wasn’t actually that mad about the clock, he’s just like that-“

“No, no, he had every right to be, right? I was being a bad teammate. But- but don’t worry, I am getting out of your hair-!”

“Scar.”

Silence.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“But I do!” He faces them now, finally faces them, but they almost wish he hadn’t. His face is still in that wide smile, bright as the sun, even as tears run down his cheeks. “That’s how this works, right? Scar’s alone! Again! All he does is lie and cheat, he doesn’t care. Just betray him! You mean nothing to him anyways!” His chest heaves with unshed sobs, and his eyes are screwed shut.

“It’s not like I can bring anything else to the team,” he continues. “After all, I die and I die and I die, I die and try to make stupid deals that only an idiot would take! Which makes me the biggest idiot of all, right? I-“

No one knows what he was going to say next, because in the same moment, a pair of arms wraps around him impossibly tight. He can’t stifle the gasp that escapes him at the contact, the warm warm warmth that enveloped him as Cleo squeezes, making his ribs creak and his heart swell. His tongue feels useless in his mouth, any words he could say stopped up in his throat.

“Scar, I want you to listen to me.” Cleo murmurs, not letting go. “We don’t want you here because you’re useful, or pity, or any of that. We want you here for you.”

He tries to talk, void he tries, but all that escapes his lips is a high-pitched keen. Cleo- beautiful, crazy, kind Cleo- simply hugs him tighter, rubbing a hand on his back so firmly and gently that it makes his heart ache.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Let it out. We don’t want you to leave, the exact opposite.” She leans forward, resting her forehead on his. “We love you, Scar. We don’t want you to be alone.”

That’s all it takes for the dam to break.

Three games’ worth of pent-up sobs echo through the landscape as Scar sags, crying into Cleo’s shoulder. They hold him up, carding their fingers through his tangled hair. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to, because her arms are around Scar and she’s here and she isn’t leaving-

He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, how he’s atoned for all his sins enough that he has Bdubs to tackle him in excitement when Cleo leads him back to their home. He doesn’t think he’s done enough to warrant one person being stuck with him in one of these horrid games, especially two people.

He doesn’t want to let it go, though.

The universe ticks down. Their lives lose length with every passing second they spend like this.

But they aren’t alone, none of them, and they won’t be again.

(And if Cleo doesn’t chastise Scar the next time he calls her Mom? Well, nobody needs to know that.)

264 notes · View notes

cherryjuicegf · 1 year

Text

the injury of finally knowing you

On need and want, and the failures of sight.

2.1k, T, angst [ao3]

A flick of fingers.

Jaskier has not taken more than two steps outside the shed, just enough to feel the absence of Radovid’s hungry stare, when he freezes. It’s not the sound, not that alone. No, the way his knees suddenly go numb is because he knows what follows just a little too well, and that he catches with the corner of his eye, still hidden behind the corner, and a sudden sob gets caught in his throat. A flame. A flick of flame.

“Is there another way?”

Lips still fervent, touch still burning. Somehow he has managed to count the lashes of his eyes one by one, golden under the moonlight as is fit for a prince, and leans to kiss them. “What do you mean?”

“For this. For us.” A complaint. As though he doesn’t know already. “Maybe you could come with me.”

A laugh. “In court? Right. We can stroll in the throne room and duet on Song of the Seven.” The prince has no time to answer, for his lips are captured again in a kiss. Mostly to savour, mostly because of the knowledge that looms over their heads that there is no time for savouring. Mostly that, but also because he can’t bear seeing the look in his eyes, that of a hidden truth, of a grief he is not ready to admit to himself.

He doesn’t admit it. Not yet.

His first instinct is to run, and only after he has stepped back on shaking feet and hidden in the shed does he remember to curse his cowardice. Ciri. He has to get to Ciri.

Yet the screaming in his mind has a different voice, one he has not managed to forget even after all this time, one that makes him wince with an invisible pain, that paralyzes his legs and weighs down on his chest like a rock, cutting his breath. A voice then, behind him.

“Jaskier?"

And how foreign the name suddenly sounds on his lips, how distorted.

Fighting to regain his voice, he turns at him. Stutters. “He’s here. Rience.” And then he meets his eyes. And then, the shreds of his heart cutting bloody through his chest, he admits it. “Oh. But you knew that already.”

It’s absurd how beautiful Radovid’s eyes look under the moonlight, under the shadow that falls on them. Something that resembles guilt, but not quite. No. A violent hope. He shakes his head. “You don’t have to go outside.”

Absurd. Because it’s his words that make Jaskier’s legs finally solid, and his breath steadier, sharp. And now it’s easier to look him in the eye. But now, despite the terror, despite the shaking, he has to go.

Only, he doesn’t.

For the moment he huffs, half-dismissal half-pain, the moment he turns his head and remembers Ciri’s laughter and chooses to try to be brave, at that moment there is a bruising grip around his wrist. At that moment, his throat is stopped by a knife.

He gulps in a breath, stills. The blade is cold and sharp and licking his skin and it feels so awfully familiar, so awfully alike the kisses that carved their peculiar love on him just minutes ago. “Radovid.” It’s not a question, because he already knew. It’s more like a plea, trembling and honest and soft, as though he can’t afford otherwise. Because somehow, even now, he still hopes.

Yet the prince only pulls their bodies close, and makes amends out of his sight. “I can’t let you go outside.” A shaky breath. A parody so spot on Jaskier almost laughs. “I’m sorry.”

Then shouting, like soldiers giving orders. Then, a scream.

“Ciri…”

It’s no more than a breath and the knife presses into his throat, gently, lovingly, for it doesn’t cut. And Jaskier hears the screams, and the shouting and the sound of his name wretched out of the girl’s lips with heartbreaking complaint , and Yennefer’s name, and Geralt’s and the void that answers back as she fights alone, unarmed, a child, and Jaskier feels tears burning his eyes and struggles against the blade. “You have to let me go,” he pleads and thinks, for a prince, Radovid’s grip is solid. For a lover, it’s exact.

Laughter, outside. He knows that laughter. It makes his skin crawl and his legs shake again and he wants to run, to do something, anything. But Radovid wraps his arm around his chest and feels the tremors of his body on his, and swallows. “Rience can’t hurt you if you don’t go out. And I won’t have to hurt you either.”

It sounds almost like regret.

It sounds almost like a promise. And twisted as it is, this shield that backstabs him, Jaskier feels the warmth of his body just like he did before, and the blade on his throat like the sweetness of a caress, and the sound of his heart beating so loud it almost shovels its way inside his own back, and replaces the pieces of his broken one. And the tears streaming down his eyes seethe with selfishness and guilt, for he can’t tell apart the ones drawn out by the screams outside, and the ones reserved to quench the thirst of the knife.

Jaskier. Jaskier!

A sob tears his throat apart before any foreign blade manages to, in hope it will be enough of an answer, enough of a presence. An apology. His knees buckle as though the earth drags him down, wailing, this is where you should be, this is where you were supposed to be, for her.

And Radovid holds him tighter as he cries, as he kneels on the ground shaking, eyes blurred and empty, he holds him in a mocking embrace, a gentle lie, whispering wrecked comforts in his ear, “This is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is not what I wanted.”

What else, what else could he have done?

It is tender, perhaps, the way their fingers entwine on Jaskier’s chest. The way Radovid buries his head between his shoulder blades as though between the pieces of a mirror he himself had shattered, and keeps him close.

“Destiny must have something to do with it. The future, us. You sing its stories. You can’t possibly refuse it.”

Deft fingers buttoning a rumpled shirt, arming. A huff. “I sing what I choose to sing. Destiny is only an excuse for the world’s most abominable actions. I have never known anyone using it to explain good deeds.” Blue eyes blazing attentively under the moonlight. “Have you?”

The prince doesn’t answer. Only, he lowers his gaze.

The shouting outside suddenly becomes choked, terrified. Another voice, howling above all others.

Ciri!

Jaskier lets out a loud gasp, like surfacing from deep water, and his shoulders slump in relief. Yennefer. Fire for fire. Always, just before it’s too late. He heaves a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Radovid’s body slowly goes rigid behind him with the same realization that made him welcome the knife, but now, he finds he doesn’t care as much.

Come, we don’t have time.

Jaskier-

He parts his lips but his voice is cut by the silver blade suddenly digging into his throat with more force than before, choking him. Only now, the prince’s hand is shaking.

He will be alright. A pause, as though to make sure, as though knowing somehow that he can hear her, and waiting for confirmation. Come on .

Then, deafening and long-awaited, silence.

The last remnants of fire crackling somewhere over the body of a soldier, and even the cicadas have stopped singing. In the air, the hum of fading magic.

Radovid is breathing shakily, almost inaudible over the thumping of his heart. His knuckles have gone white around the handle of the knife and he presses on, as though for an excuse to hold Jaskier tighter. His voice comes out hushed. “You called her.”

Jaskier tries to swallow. “Let me see you,” he whispers, quivering. “I need to see your eyes.”

Suddenly like the blast of lightning, the knife is gone.

Radovid’s arm is no longer holding him in place and Jaskier gasps again, sharply, but ever so silent as though afraid to scare away what’s still left unspoken. His body sags exhausted, like the crumpled paper of a failed song heaving its last breaths. The tears have not yet dried up, only limp tired down his skin. He doesn’t run.

Instead, he turns to Radovid.

“When did you call her?” The prince is trembling lightly, and staring into his eyes and oh, he sees now, the pain and the cruelty and the fear and the love, the love. He sees it all. Radovid shakes his head. “Was it before we…”

Silence.

There is something flowing down his throat, and Jaskier wipes it away to see the tips of his fingers turning red. The smallest tickle of blood. He only lets out a breath as an answer and gazes at the man before him and sees, and is seen in return. This is all he had asked for, after all, isn’t it?

The corners of Radovid’s lips are trembling in a terrible smile as he speaks again. “Well, at least now we’re even.”

“Even!” Jaskier huffs, but it resembles more the remnants of a resigned sob. His face spasms, crumbles along with his voice, which he only recognizes after he feels his tongue moving, so gutted that it sounds. “How could we ever be-”

“Thank you.” A hand on his own stained one. Radovid’s voice is low and deeper than before, the same as it was when he was whispering Jaskier’s name on his skin. Honest. “For seeing the best in me." The knife slips to the ground. "But you failed to see the rest of it.”

There is an ache in his chest, and Jaskier looks at their hands, then back at him, into his eyes, and slowly, something softens inside him as though to let his heart mold in the shape of his pain. There is no use for a mask now, anyway.

“The rest of it,” he mutters, an admission, mostly to himself. He hears his own despair laughing at him in mockery, ignoring how it grows against itself. A smile, then. Broken. “And what did you fail to see?"

Radovid stares at him for a moment. Deflates.

Then he raises his hand on Jaskier’s cheek and shuffles closer, so achingly close that he steals the breath from his lips, just like Jaskier did before, and the air between them can only echo the wails that silently bury themselves in each other's lungs. Jaskier holds back a whimper, wanting, waiting. Even now.

But it’s only a ghost.

Only the faintest of caresses, lips barely touching, before Radovid meets his eyes again and his stare is suddenly unyielding. "That you will always go back to them."

And Jaskier, almost apologetically but not quite anymore, smiles faintly.

Radovid’s lips hover over the smile as though in need to cherish their slightest betraying line. But need has only brought them so far. He averts his look, suddenly unable to meet Jaskier’s eyes, and stands up abruptly, almost on the run.

The space his presence leaves behind weeps empty and the cold memory of his touch feels nothing like the coldness of the blade, not at all.

In a momentary panic, Jaskier grasps his hand, and makes him still.

And there, kneeling at last, holding the hand of a man who would be a stranger tomorrow, who would be, by destiny, a king, he looks up and Radovid looks down, and his eyes have become so extraordinarily clear they make for a polished armor and shield.

Jaskier knew. But as he speaks, his voice weighs on his tongue like a dead song. "You will regret this one day." And even though he doubts, now more than ever, he adds, "I know you will."

Mostly because he can't help it. This wretched hope.

Softly, helpless, Radovid laughs, and it's just like that first night, in the bittersweet confession of the song. "Good. That means I will remember you still."

Only for one last moment.

Then his gaze becomes stern, and Jaskier forces himself to let go of his hand and thinks, he didn’t have enough time to learn how to do that.

The next moment, he is alone.

The tears have now dried up and pull mercilessly at his skin along with the smudged black kohl. Somewhere, in a corner, a lute laments for a last stroke of amateur fingers to sing a melody gone rusty. The moonlight is fading.

Jaskier closes his eyes, swallows. The tears, the sobs. The guilt. Truth is, there is not enough time to grieve. There is nothing he could have done.

Only, he stands up and grabs his lute and walks outside the shed, among the paths of dead soldiers and burned words, and the air howls bleak and hopeless through the hollow gap in his chest.

But there is not enough time to grieve.

He has to get Geralt his swords.

#oooh radskier part2 you want to betray each other so badly #anyway hiiii. i also have a playlist on the ao3 note :)#this isn't my best but the drama is there #the witcher #radskier #jaskier #radovid #s3 spoilers #the witcher spoilers #angst #chrysa writes #fic recs

130 notes · View notes

selnyam · 3 days

Text

FFXIV Write 2024: Sally

Post Dawntrail, the Void Vixen looks to take on her second opponent as a fighter in the Arcadion

The arena lights were bright and blaring, in pinks and purples. An upbeat theme boomed over the speakers, catchy and peppy. Honey B Lovely stood in the center, waving and blowing kisses to her fans and admirers through the cameras. Her preferred fighting style made it far too dangerous for anyone to be actually in the arena, cameras instead broadcasting the fight to all of Everkeep. She turned as the music shifter to a more thumping drum beat, a more heavy metal tune. The spotlights turned to the entrance as Metem raised his voice over the speaker.

“Welcome to this match everyone, your queen and mine, the idol of the arena Honey B Lovely! She will be facing off against the new challengers, the mysterious stranger from beyond the dome. The demon, the beast, the VOID VIXEN!” A lop eared Viera woman walked into the arena. A black leather trench coat, black fingerless gloves, a black kilt and sunglasses. A deadly looking axe wrapped in crimson fabric slung over her back. The crowd was a mix of cheers and murmurs. The newcomer was mostly unknown, and rumors were growing over her strange powers and fighting style. Also the lack of a regulator upon her head.

“You know, you’re pretty cute Vixen. How about you just take a knee and pledge to bee mine and I’ll let you off easy?” Honey B winked and made a heart shape with her hands. Cheers and cries of affection and devotion rose from the crowd and the blonde woman waved to the crowd. The Void Vixen simply smirked, removing her axe from her back and burying its blade into the ground. She tossed off her trench coat, hanging it over the axe handle. Wearing nothing but bindings across her chest the Viera took a few steps forward, then cracked her knuckles. Smoke and crackles of energy surrounded the challenger, odd tearing noises as if reality itself was breaking. When the smoke cleared the Void Vixen was ready, demonic wings rising from her back, horns curling over her floppy ears, black sclera and claws.

“And there it is folks! The Void Vixen is ready to fight! How she transforms without a feral soul is a mystery and without a voice, she isn’t telling!” Metem crowed over the speakers and Honey B frowned.

“Fine then, I’ll just MAKE you bow!” The regulator on Honey B’s head whirred and with she took on her feral soul. A tall woman with wings, whiplike stingers and a spear she hovered in the air. “You may have taken down that little cat, but I’m a QUEEN” she shouted, then rushed forward. The Void Vixen grinned and leapt forward, and the match was on!

The winged Viera swung punch and kick, all while dodging the queen’s spear and stingers. However the shifter was quick and easily dodged them. It seemed neither of the opponents would make much progress, until the Vixen caught one of those whiplike stingers and pulled it, dragging Honey B lower and delivering a rapid fire series of punches to her ribs. Honey B grunted, and used her spear tip to push the Vixen back a few steps.

“B is for BOW DOWN” she cried, and with a wave of her hand a cloud of pink pheromones blasted the Vixen. The viera fell to her knees and coughed, waving at the cloud. Laughing, her hand to her cheek the Queen Bee drifted closer to gloat. “There, worshiping me just like a good girl should. Now if you surrender maybe I’ll even give you a kiss, you are quite an attractive…” her words were cut short when the Vixen’s fist collided with her face.

“OH! An incredible blow from the challenger! Did Honey B’s charms not have an effect!?” the announcer cried as a gasp went up from the audience. Honey B flew back a few feet, dodging more strikes from the Vixen.

“How? How didn’t that WORK!?” Growled the shifter, and the Vixen only smirked. The Viera adjusted the choker around her neck revealing a nasty opalescent scar circling it. She then pointed to her nose and shook her head. “How DARE you be immune to my pheromones!” shouted Honey B, taking to the air. The Vixen flapped her own wings, wind aether rising her to chase after.

The audience cheered as a dog fight took place, the two combatants flying and circling the arena, both trying to get a decisive blow in. The shifter was lagging, and the Vixen seemed to be going more and more feral. She was laughing and twitching as if the urge to feed on her opponents soul was making her more vicious and eager to kill. Honey B snapped her fingers, calling her group bees to join the fight.

“Be is for Bloody corpse, which is what you will be!” the army of smaller bee like creatures surrounded the outside of the arena, before sallying forth in wave after wave of swarming stings. The Vixen became a blur of movement, flying higher and higher, weaving around and spiraling to dodge the deadly horde. A cluster of them all struck at once, and the crowd cried out as the Vixen was seemingly crushed.

“Oh and the Vixen appears to have been defeated! Is this the end of her rise to the top?” Honey B laughed again, flying closer to the cluster of groupbees. She raised her spear and shooed the groupbees away. As they cleared away however, Vixen was absent. All that was there was a shimmering tear in the world, purplish and hazy. “Wha… What is that?” was all the Arcadion fighter managed before the Void Vixen leapt back through her portal, a loud CRACK as her horned head collided with the queens, a stunning headbutt.

Honey B reeled back, her spear clattering to the ground. Before she could recover however she felt strong arms wrap around her, pinning her arms and stingers to her side. Face to face with the strange Viera woman she struggled to bring her vision into focus. The Viera’s smirking face came into view and the Vixen planted a quick kiss on the Queen then flipped backwards, delivering a vicious suplex. The last thing before blacking out was that damn smirk and the world spinning upside down.

“WE HAVE OUR WINNER!! The Void Vixen has defeated another challenger!!!!” the audience burst into cheers. Flidais Oakclamber, the Void Vixen, waved and bowed.

#dawntrail spoilers #the void vixen #honey b lovely #ffxivwrite2024

8 notes · View notes

itmeblog · 2 months

Text

POLITICS INTO THE VOID TIME

In the event that you've not been pretty obsessed with how American politics have been going since Kamala became the Democratic nominee (there's been good and bad, that I'm aware of) the tone of the campaign has completely changed.

Because Kamala's team has decided that Trump isn't threatening, all powerful, and scary, (though the ads I've seen have sort of been using old language) they have decided that he's weird and he's a creep.

These were made 11 days apart:

As a kid who grew up being called weird (and occasionally a creep) this is hilarious. It's just playground bullying.

Dems really said, we tried being the bigger person, it wasn't working out.

And Trump's policies and desires are actually weird. A proposed porn ban is weird. Trying to put librarians in jail is weird, policing people's bodies is creep behavior.

As a former weird kid, the way to overcome this sort of bullying is not to assert that you aren't weird or god forbid shout "I'm cool" (the more you say it, the less true it is), it's to embrace that you're weird and accept that not everyone is going to like you, and that you'll probably never have a seat at the cool table.

But and I cannot express this enough Trump wants to be cool. His whole thing is, being edgy, and dangerous, and "being brave enough to say what people are afraid to say". And when you get someone who is "being brave enough to say what normal people are afraid to say" and shoot back with "they don't say that because it's fucking weird"... where does he go from there?

It's a depowering move. They are depowering Trump.

When you were a kid talking passionately about something that interested you and someone said "that's weird (derogatory)" it probably made you feel really small. That kid stole the power you were wielding in said conversation.

So the question is, can Trump proudly and convincingly assert "I'm weird. I’m a weirdo. I don't fit in. And I don't want to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That's weird." (GOD HIS CHATGPT AND PLAGIARIZED SPEECHES HAVE THE ABILITY TO DO THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD)

Is he ready to go full edgelord in the public eye?? I'm sure he'll still have followers, edgelords have a weird sort of power in this era of internet, but they are also indisputably cringe.

Like I'm not sure this will achieve anything other than being ridiculously entertaining (and thus catching the eye in headlines and reports). But,my family read one of the new releases and went oh right this whole thing is weird as fuck and it felt nice to get some kind of public acknowledgment that this is not normal.

So far the right has been struggling against couch fucking allegations, them saying that adults without kids should have less of a voice in voting (weird thing to say, but if you're polling badly with youngsters and need to maintain power~~), that Kamala is a crazy childless cat lady (Whoops accidentally alienated some of their base there, some people simply cannot have children, really shouldn't insinuate they are less than because of it. Not to mention that their own policies are making more everyday in mostly red states as complications with getting abortions for non-viable fetuses are leaving many people sterile. I'm not even going to go on with the fact that many people, like myself, simply don't want kids and that's reason enough. Also she does have step children), and the rumor that Trump wasn't really shot (as they finally removed the bandage to reveal... nothing, head wounds heal really fast but going from that giant plaster to nothing is doing a bit of a number in the rumor mill).

Basically they had Joe! THEY SPENT THE WHOLE RNC INSULTING HIM. THAT WAS THEIR WHOLE PLAN!! He was old, he was white. The inherit ableism/ageism of sleepy Joe and old Joe, and infirm Joe, were within "acceptable parameters". It was easy and safe to rib him.

They are struggling to find something on Kamala that doesn't come across as racist or sexist. Because they're polling poorly with Black Americans and they are down in the polls for women. Can't call her sleepy or lazy. Can't call her old (she's younger) can't call her stupid, can't call her infirm. Can't insinuate she's too emotional (have you met Trump??)

They probably could get her on a few policies but the 2025 project is looming large behind them.

I am foaming at the mouth trying to get to the next debate. But Trump is doing his best to weasel out of it. I am heartbroken! I miss the anytime, anywhere promise of yore.

14 notes · View notes

glacierruler · 9 months

Text

Lovely Surprises

This is my gift for @the-void-dragons for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I hope you like it!

AO3 Link

Summary: The past few days have been rough for Virgil, since he's stayed late at work due to a shortage of staff to unload equipment and put it on the shelves. When he returns home late one night, he practically collapses, thankfully his boyfriends are there to help him through it. During his lunchbreak at work he learns that he'll be getting a raise because of his hard work. Ecstatic with the news, he realizes he can surprise his boyfriends a lot earlier than he planned to.

Pairing: sleepanxceitmus

Rating: Teen, mostly fluff with a very tiny portion of hurt/comfort in the beginning

CWs: murder mention(no actual murder), slight innuendo(it doesn't go anywhere), mutilation mention(no actual mutilation), collapsing

Words: 2448

Virgil all but collapsed after flinging open the door to his house. He was surprised as two pairs of arms caught him and someone else ran into the kitchen, as his boyfriends were usually asleep when he got home.

“Spiderling, are you alright?” Janus asked, his voice overly soft and full of concern, as he leads Virgil to the couch.

“Yeah! Do we gotta murder someone, your employer maybe?” Remus chimed in from directly behind Virgil, his naturally scratchy voice sounding tamer; as if scared he’d make the situation worse.

Now on the couch, Virgil sighed, curling into the warmth surrounding him before attempting to answer the questions that had been asked. “No, it’s fine. I was just asked to stay late again. We had another—”

“Boo,” Remy called from in the kitchen, “you have been staying late all week. At this point, the only way you won’t stay late is if you have a sick day.”

“Oh, well that’s certainly an idea, why don’t you call in sick.”

“Jan, I can’t just call in sick when I’m not! That’s how I’d get fired and then I won’t be able to pay my share of the bills.”

“Has your boss said anything about firing you?”

“I mean no, but—”

“And anywho Babes, you’re not required to stay past your work time.”

“Is your boss making you? If so we could mu—”

“Everyone stop!” Virgil shouted interrupting Remus, his breathing picking up. “Look, I get that I don’t have to stay past but we’ve had so many orders that we need more workers. Which we don’t have! And I’m not the only one staying late. Everyone, including the morning workers, are showing up to get everything done.”

He realized halfway through his anxious ramblings that Remus and Janus were both squishing his sides. Sighing, he sunk into them more, and noticed the smell of hot chocolate; his favorite drink. No longer feeling as stressed as when the conversation started, Virgil kept talking.

“I know that I’m overworked, but I can’t leave stuff for someone else to do, when I’m already there.”

Virgil could feel Remus pouting against his head. “But Virgey, if you overwork yourself you could easily slip, and then whatever you’re carrying will fall on your head, breaking open—”

“I doubt any of that will happen love,” Janus cut in before Remus could spiral any further, “however, Remus is correct, you overworking yourself like this isn’t good for anyone.” Before Virgil could attempt to say something in return, Remy entered the living room with two cups of hot cocoa.

“Plus Boo, you overworking yourself cuts into us time. As much as we love each other it just doesn’t feel the same when you’re not there.”

Groaning, Virgil grabbed his drink as soon as Remy was close enough. “Okay, I get it. I’ll try not to stay late tomorrow.”

Remus cackled as if he had won something, while Janus and Remy shared looks of smug satisfaction. Seeing that Virgil was situated with his drink, Remy handed the other cup to Janus before heading back to the kitchen for two more cups.

During the time it took for Remy to get to the kitchen, Janus leaned into Virgil’s ear and whispered, “if you get back early enough we can watch movies together.”

“We could even watch one of those shows that winds you up,” Remus attempted to purr, wiggling his eyebrows when Virgil snorts and looks at him.

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think I’m up for that. This week has been exhausting. Would cuddles be okay Rat?”

“Absolutely!”

Less than a second later Virgil yelped, doing his best not to spill his cocoa everywhere, as Remus squeezed him harder. Thankfully Janus quickly took the mug from him and put it on the small table next to the couch.

“Babes! I’ve told you to wait for me when we’re suffocating our emo with affection! And here I was getting the both of you some of this hot, liquid, chocolatey heaven.” Remy said, playfully going to take a sip out of Remus’s octopus mug, which prompts Remus into jumping off the couch and almost tackling the larger of the two.

“Both of you!” Janus sighed, which caught the attention of the two squabbling men. “If the drinks spill, both of you will be mopping for a week. Also, Remy, my favorite barista, you can only threaten to steal something of mine when you haven’t given it to me yet. If you’d be so inclined to look, you will find that it is your mug that you are currently holding, not mine.”

Virgil had no choice but to snicker at the affronted faces that both of them made.

“But double d! You know I’m allergic to soap!”

“Well then, maybe you should keep from spilling drinks all over the floor,” came Janus’s reply, and Virgil didn’t have to look to know that he was smirking. Remus growled playfully before jumping into Janus’s lap, getting a small “oomph” out of him. Remy, cackling at the sight, sat down next to Virgil, before handing Remus his hot chocolate. Virgil spent the rest of that night cuddling and joking around with his boyfriends.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil awoke the next day to one of his boyfriends lightly shaking him.

“Huh? Wha’s goin ‘n?” Virgil grunted, groggily looking at whoever was looming over him, and realized that it was Janus. He was smirking, his face holding a faint blush.

“Well dear, I would love to let you sleep longer. Unfortunately, I have work and the others have already left to their jobs as well.”

Stretching, Virgil looked up at his boyfriend, trying not to go back to sleep on the couch. After a few moments, Virgil shook his head, attempting to chase away the drowsiness.

“Alright, do you want me to cook for both of us?”

“Are you sure Spider? I don’t want to add undue stress and—”

“Worrying is my job little Snake,” Virgil said, despite being the smaller of the two, “and anyways, it’s fine, it’ll wake me up more. Which means I won’t have to worry about being late to work.”

“If you’re sure love, but please don’t overtax yourself over this.”

“If it’s too much I’ll call you in. Are we still able to watch movies tonight?”

“Of course, as long as you come home from work early enough.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil professionally ran towards the breakroom as soon as it was time for his lunch break, or dinner break as it was often called. While there hadn’t been too many customers, the ones he had interacted with had been less than kind. Most of them being upset with the lack of their specific brand of gesso that they desperately need. Or getting upset because they were out of a specific colour or brand of paint. And Virgil understands the frustration, when he has free time he loves to paint, however he shouldn’t get yelled at because the customer has to wait until the next day to get something.

As he was eating, his boss entered the breakroom. She was overall a good boss, far better than most of his previous ones, but whenever she entered the breakroom it meant staying late.

“Hello Virgil.”

“Good evening Ms. Brooke. I apologize in advance, but I won’t be able to stay late tonight.”

Ms. Brooke blinked a bit before responding, “that isn’t what I came in here to tell you. I’m giving you and everyone else who has stayed late these past few days a bonus and a pay raise. Starting next week you’ll be receiving $17.25 an hour instead of $16.”

Virgil’s eyes were a little bit wider, not having expected any of that. “Thank you! Can I ask how much the bonus is?”

“I’m still figuring it out, but it’ll be at least $50. $100 if I can get corporate to agree,” her voice changing from strictly professional to professionally dry when she said this next part, “of course, since it’s corporate, we can’t expect much.”

Virgil snorted in agreement before turning back to his sandwich. Truthfully he was very ecstatic about the pay raise and bonus. Riding the high of the news he received, he went back to work with a bounce in his step.

If everything went according to plan, he could start looking at rings next week.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later Virgil was at the jewelry store, looking around aimlessly as he waited for the person running the place to be free. He had already done the research he needed before entering. After a few minutes he was the only person in the shop, so he approached the person who was behind the counter.

“Uh, hi, I was wondering if I could get some custom made rings?”

“Of course! How many, and can I have measurements?”

“I’ll need three rings. Their measurements are 46.5 millimeters, 49.2 millimeters, and 51.9 millimeters.”

“Alright! Now what would you like them to look like?”

Virgil left the jewelry shop, putting a reminder on his phone to return in two weeks time.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hardest part about keeping what he was doing a secret was keeping it a secret. Virgil’s boyfriends were terrifyingly perceptive, and he was a terrible liar. Thankfully that problem had been something he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was for Remy to be the one to confront him, as it was usually Remus who did. And when it wasn’t him it was Janus.

Remy and Virgil were cuddling in their shared bedroom, when the taller of the two broke the silence.

“Hey Boo, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off. Don’t get me wrong, we love that you’re smiling more, we’re just curious as to what’s going on.”

Virgil looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, tempted to ask right then and there. But he couldn’t ruin the surprise. Plus the rings wouldn’t be ready for another week.

“Don’t worry, my Sloth, I promise it’ll make sense soon.”

Remy looked confused, but thankfully he didn’t push it any further, only raising one eyebrow before pulling Virgil closer. “Alright Hun, I’ll tell the others what you told me. I can’t promise they won’t ask questions though. You know how they are.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says wistfully, “I do.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time to go back to the shop, to get the rings. His boss had given him the day off, but he hadn’t told his boyfriends, that way he could inconspicuously leave the house around that time without them getting suspicious. He’d texted Roman, Remus’s brother, to keep those three busy for a few hours when he left the house in order to let Virgil set everything up.

When he got to the jewelry store, the person recognized him immediately.

“I’ve got your rings in the back. Give me one minute and I’ll get them to you.”

Virgil nodded, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited. Nervous about all the things that might go wrong, yet excited for everything that could happen.

“Alright, here you go! Do you like them? And is it okay if I ask what they’re for?”

Virgil inspected the rings carefully, anxious that he might break them, before putting them back with a huge grin.

“They’re perfect! And yeah, I’m proposing to my boyfriends.”

“Congrats! Let me get you the receipt.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Making his way home, Virgil was a little anxious, wondering if his boyfriends had left yet. However that dimmed when he noticed on of their other cars gone.

Once inside the house Virgil started cooking their favorite food, something they called fancy ramen.

After he was done with that, he got into his favorite outfit, an outfit his boyfriends had only seen him in once. It was a gorgeous black dress with white stitching and purple detailing, paired with black two inch block heels. When he was finished getting into the outfit, he put the rings in his desk and texted Roman to send his boyfriends home, and then he started to put on his makeup. He gave himself smoky eyes, and put purple eyeshadow on his lower eyelids, finishing the look with his dark purple lipstick just before his boyfriends got home.

Carefully speed-walking to the door, he watched as Remus opened his mouth, but Virgil managed to speak first.

“No, you didn’t forget an anniversary, no I’m not fired from my job, and with that out of the way I need you all not to question me,” Virgil paused, taking a deep breath in, “if you do, I won’t be able to do what I planned. Also, if you would all sit at the table, please.”

He assumed his boyfriends heard the quiver in his voice as Remus shut his mouth and he managed to only get slightly worried looks before they complied.

Retreating to the kitchen Virgil filled four bowls with the fancy ramen, taking two at a time to the table. It was surprisingly quiet as they ate, all three of his boyfriends sneaking curious and worried glances at him. They seemed to desperately wish to know what was going on, considering how violently Remus was rocking in his chair, but none of them wanted to spook Virgil.

“Please go to the living room and close your eyes until I say you can open them,” Virgil said while nervously fidgeting with his hands. Janus placed one of his hands on Virgil’s back, right before Remy spoke up.

“Alright hun. But after that please tell us what’s going on.”

“I will.”

Virgil was shaking slightly when he went to collect the rings. Being very careful he made sure to keep them as hidden as possible before heading to the living room, just in case. He was so incredibly grateful to see that his boyfriends each had a blindfold on.

Carefully he put the rings on the table in the room in the same order that his boyfriends were in; Remus’s ring is placed on the very left side, the ring itself looking like a rat on it’s back holding a green bloodstone; Janus’s ring is put in the middle, featuring a snake wrapped around a yellow tourmaline; and finally Remy’s ring is on the very right with a sloth cuddling smoky quartz.

“Alright, you can look now.” Virgil was rubbing his arms while he watched them take off the blindfolds. All three of them gasping when they see the rings.

“Will you marry me?” Before Virgil could start doubling back and doubting what he’d just asked, Remus spoke.

“Fuck yeah!”

“Of course Babes!”

“Absolutely!”

It only took Virgil a moment to realize that all of them were crying tears of joy.

Taglist(please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed!): @hyperfixated-homo @cutebisexualmess @nebulous-astronaut @uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous @thegoldenduckie

#glacier writes #glacier's fanfics #sandersxchange23 #sanders sides #sleepanxceitmus #remy #ts remy #remy sanders #janus #ts janus #janus sanders #remus #ts remus #remus sanders #virgil #ts virgil #virgil sanders #fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

queermediaanysis · 5 months

Text

I’m late to the Hazbin Hotel stuff, but I’ve binged it a few times recently and just have to say that I’ve never seen an abusive relationship that looked so much like mine portrayed so correctly (as in both accurately and in being completely condemned by the narrative) as Angel and Valentino.

I’ve seen a little of the discourse on this and I’m gonna add my thoughts under the cut.

Gonna start by saying 1. I was lucky enough to get out of my eight-year long abuse/DV situation in 2019 and I’m safe and okay now 2. I know everyone’s experience is different and I’m specifically talking about my experience of being in a long-term abusive situation and don’t mean to diminish anyone who’s experience with SA/DV was different than mine and 3. this is all high praise for what the show did, because it may not sound like it at first because it is legitimately hard for me to watch, especially the first time through.

I’ve realized I’m probably rambling out of order at this point and I apologize to anyone who’s chosen to read these words I just had to shout into the tumblr void but oh well.

Yes, I read the trigger warning at the beginning of e4. I braced myself because that one is typically fine with a heads up for me, but I still wasn’t prepared. I barely made it through that first watch because it didn’t warn about the DV tied to the SA. I’d already barely made it through the scene in e2 where Angel Dust is listening to voicemails from Valentino because jfc it’s so painfully accurate. I heard some of that stuff verbatim from my abuser. Word for word exactly the same.

The other part that’s accurate is how self-destructive Angel is as a coping mechanism and his reasons why. “If I end up broken, maybe I won’t be his favorite toy anymore. And maybe he’ll let me go.” It’s. So. Accurate. To my experience at least, which is one that looked a lot like their whole relationship.

“Loser Baby” is absolutely fine with me. Because again, it’s so accurate. Having someone sit with you and say “hey, I clearly see that you’re not being treated right no matter how hard you try and fake things, and that you’re at rock bottom and not doing good things with the ways you’re dealing with that, and I’m here for you anyway” is what pushed me to finally leave. My now-best friend who at the time was my co-worker who’d just been hired a few months prior is the one who said it to me. He saved my life in more ways than one and I’m forever grateful for it. I’ve read a few things saying the song was calling Angel a loser in a victim blaming way, and that’s not how I took it at all. Admitting how much things suck, saying that aloud, including the ways I’d changed for the worse was crucial for me in the process of leaving and trying to heal afterwards.

“Poison” wasn’t even the part that was difficult to watch for me, even though those scenes are (mostly) what earned e4 the trigger warning at the opening. But the lyrics hit me hard. “My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.” I lived this for years. I can’t overstate how much this was the reality of my experience. I thought that was how things would end up for me. I didn’t think I’d have a way out from this person who was both hurting me and making me the absolute worst version of myself possible. I was so sure I’ve of those two things would eventually be the end of my story. I’m very very lucky it wasn’t and I’m grateful for the resources I had that let me leave when I could.

This was a whole lot of rambling to really just say I’ve never felt so seen and respected by the representation of abuse in a piece of media. Maybe it’s because I’m coming off feeling weird about things in OFMD2 and withholding saying any on that because reasons. But I can definitely weigh in accurately in the abuse plot line in Hazbin and it’s all praise from me. Would I have avoided watching it if I’d have known how big of a plot line that would be? Yes, probably. I would’ve at least read spoilers ahead of time to try and gauge it. I nearly stopped it a few times because I wasn’t expecting it to be so painfully close to my own experience and shown so blatantly instead of being implied off-screen.

But am I glad I watched it? Absolutely. Mostly because the narrative so clearly frames everything as capital-b Bad. And I’m grateful they showed what they did how they did, and even more grateful and that the narrative (which is specifically working with a major, prominent, surface-level text theme of redemption/redeem-ability) frames Valentino as an irredeemable villain for his role as the abuser, while also giving Angel Dust three-dimensions in his own flaws that he’s responsible for. It’s done flawlessly imo. And I’m glad I watched it, even though it was hard.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin analysis #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #hazbin valentino #valentino #cw abuse

17 notes · View notes