#Let’s Act on our Commitments: End Child Labour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jimlingss · 4 years ago

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Moirai [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 5.8k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.

This is the end. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices. Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling. His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins. The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story. “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!” The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together. “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.” “Guards!” Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—” “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—” “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading. “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.” “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear. Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler. But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now. That position has long been stolen away from her. “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—” The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding. Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities. Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her. The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth. Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her. Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places. Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her. Everything she did, it drove him away. Every act of love placed distance between them. Everything. Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?” “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.” The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away. And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision. “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!” There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade. But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy. ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇

Headbeams. Fuck. You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death. But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are. You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty— The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought. …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. . Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted. You have regrets. Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do. But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it. Death is the end. This is the end. ……. ….. ... .. . “—ook...t ...er...!” “..hush!” What? Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm? Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad. You open your eyes. Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you. Your mouth opens— “Waah!” What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin. In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes. Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck— You’re a baby. Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs. You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck! The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!” The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in. Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?” That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her. You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.” Wait. Say what now? Devereux? Why does that sound so familiar? You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?” “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?” “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia? Anastasia Devereux. You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was— Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances. You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux. You burst out crying again. // A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement. Your father. At least he’s supposed to be. “How is the child?” he asks the maid. “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.” He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you. What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked. Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options. And you’ve taken her place. But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness! Oh god. All you know now is that you don’t want to die. You died too early in your past life. “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.” Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face. Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids— “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!” “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.” Now that’s a big fat lie. You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself. Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.” “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.” “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.” Cordial laughter fills the room. Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever. But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice. You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach. Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants. Oops. The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches. The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit! “Edith!” Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?” “Take Anastasia.” She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel! “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude. The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.” Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen. Clearly, the bar is quite low. “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.” “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.” Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?” “Know what?” “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.” “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?” “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.” Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.” She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation. But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.” Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps. You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her. But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo. But you’re different. You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive. Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself. After all, no one else in this house will. You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile. But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.

Four years later. “Are you colouring, my lady?” “Nooo.” You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans. To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death. You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life. In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain. To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three! It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe— “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her. “Why?” “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.” “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands. “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.” You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body. “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well. The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance. The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can. “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into. And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking. It drives her crazy. But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly. Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself. But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks. Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal? “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!” Oh. Hell. Yeah! You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over— Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?” Wow. That’s cold. Stone cold. “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?” The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.” Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life. The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.” You nearly choke on your broccoli. But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?” “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again. It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth. Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince. “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose. You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly. “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods. “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—” The tutor drones on and on. But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world. “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?” “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—” You don’t know why you asked. “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again. “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.” You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?” There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here. Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived. “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.” You hum to yourself. // Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time. “Goodnight, my lady.” “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave. “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.” You giggle. “Bye bye.” The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress. You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows. The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive. Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly. After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure. You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow. Peeking with one eye open, there’s— Absolutely nothing. Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more. You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked! But it smothers out a blink later. You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap. It looks like you peed yourself. “Really?!” You sigh, ready to give up. Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all. You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop. Oh yeah. Dark magic exists. Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it. Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black. Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time. Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing. It’s trying to consume you. There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!” Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely. It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed. You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed. God knows you’re never going to try that again. // So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative. “I wanna do that!” Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside. Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?” “No!” The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?” “Uh-huh.” She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation. “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow. “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede. She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.” The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom. You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet. It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are. But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes! With that in mind, you throw open the doors. Joan, behind you, practically flinches. Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!” He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.” The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…” “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?” The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?” You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!” He stares at you. You stare at him. The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.” You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird. “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance. You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!” You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better. Why she did what she did. How she became the female villain. “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!” “Y-Yes, my lady.” You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things. In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes. And you’ll survive no matter what happens.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts series #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #man I wanna tag who the main member is bUT I DON'T WANNA SPOIL IT YET #anyway hope this is intriguing #this chapter gets the ball rolling #they'll be 8 chapters in total

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sabineelectricheart · 3 years ago

Text

Sans Logique

Summary: Questioning Beliefs (Act II). Sebastian has an argument with the Grand Cleric and Hawke argues against deontology.

Rating: K - Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content should be free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes.

Words: 1421

Notes: Based on this song.

“I’m giving it all up!” A masculine voice from the feet of Andraste’s statue exclaimed with conviction. “I made a vow to the Chantry, and it was wrong to turn my back.”

“Sebastian! Listen to yourself!” Another, a female, rebuked. “You’re as impulsive as the day you turned away from us! Do you really think the Maker wants another rashly spoken vow that you’ll abandon when the next passion takes you?”

Ah, so it is that once more. I had come to the Chantry to bring my mother’s offerings, and it appeared I arrived at the wrong moment. The Grand Cleric had taken upon herself to force Sebastian to reconsider his position towards a religious life, while the nobleman stubbornly insisted he was certain of his desire for taking on the mantle of Brother.

Perhaps I should leave discreetly, as I should not intervene in such affairs. Yet, I was curious about what would ultimately happen, and considering my services for Sebastian, killing off the Flint Company, rescuing the Harimann family and investigating the state of governance in Starkhaven, I supposed I was still heavily involved.

“I will not…”

He tries to argue but is promptly shut down by Elthina.

“This is your life, child. Don’t spend it being blown about like a weathervane.” Then, she looks at me from the top of the stairs. “There’s Hawke. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

I walk up to the statue. “Good afternoon, Grand Cleric, Sebastian. I bring this week’s tessera, in the name of the Amell family.”

“I’ll see to this.” She picked up the bag and left.

I, then, turned to Sebastian. “She seems frustrated. Is the Grand Cleric upset with you?”

“She thinks I’m fickle, but I mean it!” He insisted. “It was wrong for me to break my oath to the Chantry three years ago. I’ve turned against the Maker, and for what?”

The man paced angrily, trying to let out some frustration. “Why would I want to rule Starkhaven and deal with jackals like Flora Harimann for the rest of my life?”

“You sound like you have made a decision, already.” I pointed out.

He sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

I raised my eyebrow and motioned for him to carry on.

“When I think about going back to Starkhaven… Calling on allies like Flora Harimann, all the corrupt, scheming nobles, my throat swells shut in horror.” The archer said, an uneasy creak on his forehead growing more pronounced. “When I think about staying, I’m at peace.”

I sat at the steps of the staircase, and motioned for him to sit next to me, which he complied.

“Well, how about we look that from another angle?” I offered. “Let’s work with suppositions. What would you do, for instance, if you formally renounced the throne and joined the Chantry definitively?”

“Well, for starters, I must convince Elthina my commitment is sincere. Then, I will remain here, in Kirkwall, to represent the Maker’s interests the way she sees best.” He said, matter-of-factly.

I nodded. “How about Starkhaven, then? What would happen?”

“My cousin Goran remains on the throne. He rules until the day he dies, and leaves the throne to his offspring.”

“Well, didn’t you say your cousin was rather… simple?” I put it lightly.

“He has not been graced the sharpest of intellects, yes.” Sebastian confirmed, a mean smile graced his lips.

“It sounds like he is an easy target for manipulation on part of ill-intentioned noblemen.”

“I suppose there is a reason why Johanne chose to promote his rights for the throne instead of my brother’s.” He conceded.

“You know how nobles are, they are selfish and insensitive. Goran’s reign spells hard times for the common folk of Starkhaven. Perhaps you should give more thought about that, too.” I argued.

Sebastian scoffed. “I don’t have hubris enough to imagine it matters to the common people who rules them. Someone will take the reins. The fields will be planted, the crops gathered. No one will notice that a Vael lives and isn’t there, and I can devote my life to the Maker’s will on Thedas.”

“It most certainly matters to the common people who rules over them, Sebastian.” I said, full of conviction. “Perhaps more than it does for the nobles and merchants, and I ought to believe you agree with me, or else the doubt would not plague you.

“You are correct in assuming someone will take the reins, as for being the sovereign, there is always candidates. However, wanting to do the job and doing it right are two very different things.

“To rule,” I continued. “Is the art of negotiation, of striking compromises. It is no place for a puppet, whomever it is the master. Besides, you have the chance of doing something great for the little man of Starkhaven, you can protect him from those who only see him as a beast of labour, you can provide for him.”

“So, you are saying I should take the throne? Do you propose for me to go back on my vows?” He asks, with an edge of his voice.

“I speak no such thing.” I countered. “You do not have to be Prince, but you do have a moral imperative to leave Starkhaven in good hands. If those hands are yours or of others’, that is for you to define.”

“I see.” He sighed. “You are right, of course. However, this discussion is moot. I cannot return to Starkhaven and submit my people to war without a clear sign this is the Maker’s will.”

“Sebastian, dear, don’t you think you are asking too much out of the Maker?” I said, sweet but firm. “You are not Andraste. He will not speak to you. He will not tell you what to do. Look for a sign will only serve to soothe your fear, and while this is all fine and good, your omission is as significative and impactful as your actions.”

The man stood up. “You do not understand, Hawke! I made a vow to the Chantry, and I refuse to turn my back to it once again. The Maker was there for me when I had no-one else, I will not forsake it once for the first thing that comes up. I will live a righteous life, and I will exert His will.”

I looked deep into his light eyes and said, “Very well, Sebastian, but I do not remember the part of the Chantry that says the Maker has an abacus to take count of our sins like they are cattle on a field.”

“What does this have to do with anything?!”

“I mean that there is no action on a void, Sebastian. We are not isolated in the world, nor our decisions are self-contained. You paid for the murder of the Flint mercenaries, yet now they cannot do any more harm to anyone else. You were wrathful with the Harimanns, but you banished a demon from this earth.

“You did good with your evil. Is it invalid just because it does not follow the doctrine to the letter? Did it destroy everything you built in the last seven years? What about me? Am I wicked for assisting you?

“Life is messy and difficult and painful, and the logic the Maker uses to judge us is beyond our understanding. We will all go out on the other side a little bit like Andraste, and a little like Maferath.

“There is no problem in going back on a few promises, if the end result is the happiness and prosperity of a city. If it means you will make every day of your life a day in the public service.

“Besides,” I also rose to my feet. I kept my eyes glued to his, despite me being rather shorter than him. “You are not alone anymore. While you keep a righteous path, I can assure you the sisters will have you, and if they don’t, you will still have me.”

I hugged him tightly, letting the smell of mint from his robes fill my nostrils. “I know you are trying to do right by the world, and I will support you, Prince or priest. I can only hope, however, that you heed by my advice and do right for Starkhaven, too.”

His tanned arms encircle my shoulders and pull me closer. “Thank you, Hawke. You gave me plenty to think about. I promise you I will do my very best.”

“That is all we can ask of you.”

*_*_*_*_*

Dragon Age II Masterlist

#dragon age #sebastian vael

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hardygalwrites · 3 years ago

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Anime/Manga: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 1: Phantom Blood)

Characters: Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando

Synopsis: A few days after Jonathan and Dio's big fight in the entrance hall, a few days after the tragic death of Jonathan's beloved dog, Dio finds Jonathan collapsed by the river, beaten and bloody. Seeing this as an opportunity to change his tactics, Dio helps Jonathan make his way back the mansion.

Jonathan reaches a small understanding about Dio.

Note: Originally written for Whumptober of 2020 - Day 10: They Look So Pretty When They Bleed | Trail of Blood

Set during the seven year gap in Phantom Blood. TW for a bit of gaslighting and also referenced child ab*se

—

It had been a few days since Dio’s fight with Jonathan in the entrance hall. George Joestar never did end up dealing out the punishment he had promised both of them, but that was likely due to the sudden and subsequent death of a certain mutt.

“I know that you two fought recently… Understand that I do not condone JoJo’s actions. To beat a man while he is down is unseemly, and JoJo will be apologizing to you. But as it stands, for now, I must ask that you be gentle with him.”

“I understand, sir.”

Dio scoffed at the memory, continuing his easy walk down the open country pathway. “‘Be gentle.’”

As if gentleness hadn’t been a luxury guaranteed to Jonathan at birth. Dario Brando had still seen it fit to punish Dio when his mother died, and that was for the mere fault of simply existing. JoJo might think his father hard on him, but George Joestar was nothing but a soft fool, and his son nothing but a pampered brat.

A pampered brat who had still managed to beat Dio to the ground.

Dio felt his jaw clench and his hands tighten in his pockets.

No. Calm down.

Dio forced himself to relax, uncurling his fists and easing his tightened jaw. He had already learned from that fight that he needed to control his temper. And already evened the score by killing JoJo’s stupid mutt. With how disgustingly attached JoJo had been to that thing, that more than made up for any humiliation inflicted, or even any punishments averted as a result.

“What to do now though…?” Dio murmured to himself.

Actively looking to tear JoJo down was now out of the question. Dio had pushed JoJo to his limits, and instead of snapping in two, JoJo had snapped back. Dio needed to change tactics. Endearing himself to the other boy, just as he had done with everyone else, would likely be the next best course of action.

Of course, the shift would not be without its difficulties. Dio despised the thought of even pretending friendship with the likes of JoJo, but he would gladly bear it for the sake of his ultimate goal. No, the difficulty primarily lay in undoing JoJo’s animosity towards him. Dio had greatly underestimated JoJo’s capacity for vengefulness, and trust was such a notoriously fragile thing…

JoJo had certainly not been making the change in tactics any easier. Dio had hardly seen the other boy since their last fight. JoJo seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him. Not like he hadn’t clearly been making those same efforts before now, but JoJo barely even showed up to meals anymore. Dio would see JoJo run off outside everyday, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of him at any of his usual hiding spots.

As he passed by the tree JoJo used to frequent, with no sign of JoJo in sight, Dio huffed in annoyance. “I know he was attached to that beast, but just how long does he intend to mope about it?”

He could easily find JoJo himself, or use his influence over the other boys in town to hunt down JoJo’s new hideouts, and with how damn long it was taking JoJo to get over himself, Dio was about ready to throw caution to the wind and do just that. What need had he to be cautious, anyway?

(The memory of JoJo’s righteous fury bit at the back of Dio’s mind, and he promptly silenced it).

“Oi, Dio!”

At the sound of his name, Dio paused his stride and saw a group of his followers running down the path towards him. A few of them, he noted with mild interest, were nursing bruises and bloody noses.

The first of them to make it to Dio had a black eye in addition to the blood pouring over his hand, which he had pressed up beneath his nose. “Cor blimey, he’s turned into a real maniac…!”

“Used to not be able to hit worth a damn!” another boy exclaimed, a magnificent bruise decorating the side of his face.

“But we still got ‘im!” a third boy chimed in vindictively.

“Got who?” Dio asked.

“JoJo, of course!”

“JoJo…” Dio had suspected as much.

“We found him down the river,” one of the group explained. “He just up and attacked us, the bloody maniac…!”

“We beat ‘im, though!” someone else cut in. “That stupid uppity rich boy still can’t win a fight!”

Dio ignored the comment. The wheels in his mind were turning.

“Where is JoJo now?” he asked with practiced nonchalance.

Everyone’s fingers pointed back the way they had come. “Where we left ‘im, ‘round where the river flows behind that fancy mansion of ‘is. ‘e’s probably lickin’ his wounds if ‘e isn’t passed out by now.”

Dio strode forward, and the group parted like the Red Sea to Moses, allowing him to continue his way down the path.

“He’s gotten a lot stronger, Dio!” one of the group called to him. “You should be careful!”

“Don’t be stupid...!” another snapped. “As if anyone could beat Dio…! Least of all JoJo!”

Dio felt his hands curl into fists again. He forced himself to keep his stride even and unhurried.

“Yeah, and in the state we left ‘im, JoJo ain’t gonna be beatin’ anyone.”

“Dio’s got this, easy! Come on, let’s go!”

The sound of running footsteps and rowdy talk faded away, signalling the group’s exit. Dio allowed himself an irritated scoff.

It did not take Dio long to find JoJo. He saw the blood first, a trail of it, decorating the riverbank with scattered smears of crimson. And at the end of the trail, not at all far from where the trail started, lay JoJo.

Stepping off the path and onto the grass, Dio approached the fallen Joestar heir. At a glance, JoJo looked like a dead man. Dio had seen plenty of those in the slums of London, hidden curled up in alley corners, propped up against the wall behind pubs, or simply lying prone against the cobblestones, just like JoJo did now in the grass. It was immediately obvious that JoJo was alive though, if the laboured breathing was any indication.

Pity.

The grass rustled beneath Dio’s feet as he approached. JoJo coughed and turned his head just in time to see the other boy standing over him.

“Dio…” Though hoarsely spoken, the name came out sounding like a bitter curse. “Come to kick me while I’m down? You would do that, wouldn’t you…? Damn… coward…”

A few more coughs sent another light spray of blood spattering against the grass. JoJo groaned.

God, how badly Dio wanted to confirm JoJo’s bitter words. On the ground, face covered in blood and bruises, fancy clothes torn and dirtied, literally crawling - throughout all the torments Dio had put him through, JoJo had never looked more pathetic and beaten than he did right now. And here Dio was, in the perfect position to revel in the younger boy’s misery, to dig his heel into his back and say, “And here I thought only dogs crawled on all fours.”

But…

“That would be unseemly,” Dio said.

“You would know,” JoJo retorted. He grunted as he attempted to get his arms under him and push himself up, only for his arms to fail him and send his face crashing back into the dirt.

JoJo’s body began to shake. His hands clenched at the grass, soft, muffled sounds leaving him in spite of whatever efforts he might have been making to hide them. Dio simply looked down at him impassively. Then, he bent down and grabbed Jonathan by the arm.

“Wh– Hey…! What are you��?!”

Ignoring JoJo’s protests, Dio slung JoJo’s arm over his shoulder.

“Dio, what do you think you’re–?!” JoJo began to cough again.

“Helping you back home, is that all right?” Dio replied coolly.

He started towards the nearby bridge, which would allow them to cross the river and cut across the field to reach the mansion. JoJo recovered from his cough and began to struggle against Dio’s hold.

“Dio… Let go of me…!”

They reached the bridge and made their way across.

“I said let go!”

Dio tightened his grip on JoJo’s arm and continued their trek towards the mansion.

“Dio, let g–!” More coughing, this time severe enough for JoJo to sag significantly in Dio’s hold, forcing them to a stop.

“What?” Dio looked at JoJo with no small amount of annoyance. “Are you planning on crawling the rest of the way?”

JoJo did not answer immediately, his whole body shaking with the force of coughing up more blood onto the grass. As Dio watched, though, the coughing morphed into those same muffled sounds JoJo had been making on the riverbank only a minute or two ago. Dio could not make out his face, but JoJo’s body continued to shake.

“...You never liked Danny,” JoJo said at length, after his shaking had subsided a bit, voice low and barely audible.

“...No, I didn’t,” Dio admitted after a calculated pause. “What of it?”

“You killed him, Dio…!” JoJo turned his head to glare at him, frantic fury no less palpable through the tears running down his face. “I know you did, I know it was you, you killed him!”

Dio met JoJo’s teary gaze with a carefully crafted mask of easy benevolence. “JoJo… That is rather unfair of you.”

In an instant, the fire in JoJo’s eyes was doused with a startled uncertainty. “What...?”

“So I didn’t like your dog,” Dio continued sensibly. “For that reason alone you think me capable of committing such a cruel act?”

JoJo averted his gaze. “Well, I…”

Dio sighed in disappointment. “Really, JoJo.”

He forced JoJo to straighten up, leaving whatever excuses or retorts the latter might have said to die wordlessly as Dio resumed their walk.

Everything was quiet for a stretch. The grass crunched beneath their feet, a soft wind rustled past the nearby trees, JoJo’s breathing remained laboured and audible, broken only by the occasional cough, but no words passed between the two of them. Dio just kept his sights set on the mansion, trying to ignore how heavy JoJo was beginning to feel against his shoulder.

At around halfway to their destination, Dio glanced at Jonathan. The younger boy appeared lost in thought, blood and tear stained face a picture of conflicting emotions.

Dio returned his sights to the mansion. “So, what happened?”

“Huh?”

“You’re hardly the type to get into fights needlessly.”

Silence. Dio could see JoJo out of the corner of his eye, staring at him with a puzzled frown.

“...Why are you doing this, Dio?” JoJo finally asked.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“This is another one of your tricks, isn’t it?” The accusation, though bitter, held no bite to it, weighed down instead by weariness and resignation. “You’re planning to humiliate me somehow, to drag me down even further.”

Dio shook his head. “Still so unfair, JoJo. I saw you were in need and chose to help you. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Well–“

“What, am I not allowed to show even the barest amount of humanity?” Dio asked, allowing a touch of bitterness in his own voice.

“No…!” JoJo cried. “I-I mean yes, but– No, that’s not what I…”

The words trailed off. Jonathan looked more confused and conflicted than ever. Dio held back a smirk, and the rest of the walk was spent in silence.

When they finally approached the front of the mansion, JoJo began to pull back. “Wait...”

Dio looked at him in annoyance. “What is it now?”

“Father,” JoJo said quietly, not meeting Dio’s gaze. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

It would have been so easy to mock JoJo. Being so caught up in the loss of a dog that he had actually forgotten about the whereabouts of his own father? It was beyond pathetic.

“He’s not here, remember?” Dio said. “He went out of town yesterday to meet with a potential business partner and won’t be back for another two days. Come on…”

He nudged JoJo forward, and after a few hesitant stumbles, JoJo allowed Dio to lead him to and through the front door, where they were soon greeted by a very concerned staff. JoJo attempted to wave them all off, claiming to be “just fine” and other pointless self-denying rubbish. Dio simply asked that a bowl of warm water be brought to JoJo’s room as he brushed past them and helped JoJo make his way up the stairs.

When they got to JoJo’s room, Dio kicked the desk chair out from in front of JoJo’s desk and dropped the other boy into it. JoJo groaned, leaning forward with his arms wrapped around his abdomen, and Dio removed his jacket, tossing it onto the desk beside the two of them.

“...I... don’t think you answered my question earlier.”

Dio glanced up from rolling up his shirt sleeves to meet a searching blue gaze.

“Why are you helping me, Dio?” JoJo asked, the question genuine but guarded.

“Do you not want me to, JoJo?” Dio responded easily.

The blue gaze dropped back down to the floor. “I don’t know…”

JoJo’s arms tightened around his middle. The frown on his face was marred by a deep discomfort, too vulnerable to be resentfulness or hostility. Dio regarded him for a moment, carefully indifferent, then resumed folding up his shirt sleeves.

One of the manservants soon arrived with the requested water. The man once again expressed concern over the two boys, but Dio assured him that everything was under control and that he would call if they needed anything else. The manservant left, albeit hesitantly, and Dio returned to JoJo’s side with the bowl in hand, placing it onto the desk.

After soaking the provided cloth in the warm water and wringing it out, Dio turned and pushed Jonathan upright, drawing a startled cry of pain from the injured boy as he instinctively attempted to curl back in on himself. Dio ignored him, keeping one hand against JoJo’s shoulder.

“Sit still.” He pressed the damp cloth against a cut running along the edge of JoJo’s hairline.

“Ow!” JoJo recoiled, trying to pull away. “Dio! What are you– Ow!”

“Even a cut can become gangrenous if not properly attended to,” Dio said, dipping the cloth into the basin again and wiping more blood from a cut down Jonathan’s temple.

“Ow! I know that, but–”

“Then what is the problem? Just sit still and let me clean those cuts,” Dio retorted. He brought the cloth to a remarkable split in the skin above JoJo’s eye.

“Ow…! All right, all right, fine, just…” JoJo clenched and unclenched his fists for a moment, as though unsure what to do with his hands, before finally and hesitantly settling on gripping his knees. “Be gentle, all right…?”

Dio grit his teeth, fingers tightening around the cloth in his hand. He resumed cleaning JoJo’s cuts as before.

‘Be gentle.’

What the hell? How, how had he lost to this? A pampered brat who whined and flinched at the slightest pain? JoJo had taken a thumb to the eye, even a knee to the head better than this…!

JoJo hissed, tensing yet again as the cloth pulled at the edges of the cut along his hairline. “Well… You certainly seem to know what you’re doing…”

The words were murmured, sounding like a light observation spoken more to JoJo himself than to the boy in front of him.

Despite that, Dio found himself saying coldly, “Of course. I’ve had to.”

JoJo’s eyes flicked upward to look at him, wide, confused, and naive, so infuriatingly goddamned naive–

“The slums of London are not so kind as the backwater countryside, JoJo,” Dio snarled, glaring at the cut he was currently cleaning.

“...Right. Of course, that makes sense.”

Dio paused, actually looking JoJo in the face. He nearly reeled back.

Dio did not quite recognize the look on JoJo’s face. There was no hostility in it, no defensiveness, not even a resignation. It was not pity, Dio did actually know what that looked like. No, it was something else. Dio hated it.

“Tch.” Dio looked away, managing to regain a fumbling hold on his temper as he continued tending to Jonathan’s wounds. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What? Ow…!”

“What happened?” Dio asked, relaxing now that that look had disappeared behind a wince of pain.

“I… It was nothing.” JoJo looked away. “I simply lost my temper…”

Dio just barely managed to hold back a scoff as he wrung out the cloth in the, by now, blood stained water. Chances were, his followers had found Jonathan and verbally assaulted him until some slight violated his precious sense of ‘honour,’ and he lashed out physically. Considering how much more emotionally fragile JoJo had been as of late, it would not have been difficult.

“Dio.”

At the sound of his name, Dio turned back to JoJo with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

There it was. That look again, made somehow worse by the way JoJo sat upright in his chair, despite how much it obviously physically pained him.

“I’m…” JoJo hesitated, then continued certainly, “I’m sorry. For… making you cry.”

Never had Dio felt more like he wanted to hit someone.

That look, those words, something about them just… got under his skin, made him feel not like the veritable god he knew he was. Dio wanted to hurt Jonathan, to punch that look off his face, to–

run a w ay

an d

h i d e

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dio said through grit teeth.

JoJo bowed his head. “Right. Of course.”

Dio’s grip tightened around the cloth once again. “Good god, just sit still,” he growled.

The rest of their time was spent in silence, save for the occasional hiss or cry from JoJo.

#posting from THE ARCHIVES #ah yes my very first jojo's fanfiction #what can I say? Jonathan is my favourite because im a basic b**ch #and the relationship between Jonathan and Dio is truly fascinating to me #so have a helping of character analysis alongside the whump :)#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 1 #phantom blood #jonathan joestar #dio brando #fanfiction #jojo fanfiction #character analysis #whumptober2020 #HardyGal writes stuff #HardyGal writes fanfiction

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oh-theres-a-woman · 5 years ago

Text

Peaky Blinders OC: Bettina Valentina Rosamond (nee. Schmidt)

Bettina Valentina Claudia Rosamond (nee. Schmidt)

Pronunciation: “Bet-tina Val-en-tina Claud-ia Rosa-Mond” Nickname(s) or Known As: Bet - Affectionate nickname fleshed from Bettina’s family and adopted by her husband. Presently in 1919 the only person that calls her that is her love Horace, whose been mentally wasting away. Mistress Rosamond - Known by the family’s staff as Mistress Rosamond, Bettina has never been one for such a title because of her rather modest background in Austria. But, after the war her thoughts towards it have never mellowed, Bet normally just lets the staff call her want they wish and doesn’t cause any issues with it. After all, her main concerns are her main concerns are Horace’s and her children, the generation that will lead on their father’s legacy more so give Horace something to stay living for, if not for her sake. Madame - Loyal patrons of the Rosamond’s Pleasure House establishment, often refer to her as the Madame as she’s more often or not seen dealing with the business. Bettina has never seemed bothered by this respective title. Mrs. Rosamond - Often addressed by business partners, or police that she sells information to. Personally doesn’t really like people calling her Mrs. Rosamond because in her heart she’ll always be a Schmidt.

Temptress - A teasing nickname that her husband calls her when Bettina manages to seduce him. Often referring to her as his Temptress in passionate moments or leading up to such a time. Date of Birth: 9th September,1891 (28 years old) Birthplace: Vienna, Austria Nationality/Ethnicity: Austrian, Austro-Hungarian. Personal Motto: Live for the new day, and pray for a better future. Quotes: “The war may have broken my home, and shattered the heart of my husband. But it will not take me, it didn’t then, nor will it ever.” “Our children are the breath of tomorrow, Mister Shelby. My proposal was to assist the expansion of the Shelby Empire, so our blood doesn’t crust and run dry with the coming turf wars but rise up as the victors. Much like my parents had done before me by ensuring my marriage to Horace.” “You call it murder, I call it being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “Horace, God chose you to be my husband the moment I was born. Things might not have been simple in the beginning remember? We said our vows in moments that didn’t promise certainty and a future of happiness, yet look at those glorious children we have. They’re our purpose to carry on now. For the sake of their future.” “Mister Sabini, always a pleasure really. So what can I do for a drug fucked, loose canon such as yourself?”

“Birmingham, it’s quite different from what I’m used to… But it will have to do.”

Occupation: Currently - Matriarch to the Rosamond family, runner of the family business between her husband. Furthermore the boss of the illegal operations of the Rosamond’s family; Drug Dealing, Illegal Sales on the English Blackmarket, Professional Assassins, Criminal Setups, Covert Operations with Staff, Selling Information (between police or other gangs), and Privately Running a Pleasure House. Formerly - Spy for the British Intelligence during the duration of the Great War, posted in the unstable city of Vienna. Before becoming a spy she married her husband Horace Rosamond, though kept her maiden name in Vienna because it was a matter of safety.

Reliable Skills Mastered:

Fully mastered the following languages; German, Hungarian, French, Slovenian and English.

Capable spy - Able to change accent, dialect, pitch, and general appearance with the training she has received.

Multi-tasking - The perks of being a mother has shown Bettina is quite the multi-tasker dealing with children not getting along as well as business.

High level of education - mastering reading, writing and mathematics at a young age.

Capable of making bombs and weapons for junk. Much like different types of bombs from the cheapest and crappiest of materials.

Quiet the actress - To survive Bet has learnt a great deal about playing pretend emotions and actions.

Able to hold her own in a fight, even against much larger people. Because of certain techniques, she’d mastered in the time of being a spy.

Weapons of Choice:

Mauser C96 - Semi-Automatic Pistol

Steyr Model 1907 (M1907) - Self-Loading Pistol

A Capsule of Cyanide - For if she’s caught in the wrong hands. Kept within a small locket that she always wears, that was an heirloom that was passed down in the generations of her family.

Social Status: Wife of a known veteran whom was left paralyzed, had five children, four of which are still living.

Marital Status: Arranged Marriage to Horace Rosamond (since. 1908)

Issue:

Archibald ‘Archie’ Gilbert Rosamond, aged 10 years old (born April, 1909)

Jeremiah ‘Jerry’ Rowland Rosamond, aged 8 years old (born August, 1911)

Septimus Vincent Rosamond, aged 7 years old (born September, 1912)

Julius Hiram Rosamond, stillborn (born April, 1913)

Henrietta Priscilla Myra Schmidt-Rosamond, aged 4 (born February, 1915)- Bettina found out she was pregnant with her fifth child while undercover giving her sometime more to hide under, as pretending she was wedded to her second-cousin during the time.

Schmidt & Rosamond Family History: Respective families that had alliances going back decades. The English family of Rosamond and Austrian family of Schmidt, decided to join their families together with an arranged marriage. This was arranged at the birth of the youngest and only daughter of the Schmidt family, Bettina Valentina Claudia Schmidt. Drawn up in agreement between Horace’s grandfather and Bettina’s parents, the two rather underground operating families agreed to expand their business relations through marriage. They were to be married when the young Schmidt girl turned seventeen. Till then, the two would marry to stop them from running or dispising one another. On the 13th of July 1908, after much preparation Horace and Bettina married. The newlyweds were a sign of good luck between the two families so they partied, not truly caring if the pair loved one another. Bet was seventeen years of age, and her husband Horace was twenty-one so it made finding a level playing ground difficult to establish for the young couple. Even language was a barrier, and caused some emotional strain between the pair. But, doing at they must the marriage was rightly consummated, and about September 1908 shortly after the lonely young woman found out she was carrying her husband’s child, which made both families overjoyed. While her first pregnancy Mistress Rosamond as her husband’s maids called her, learnt English slowly and weakly. Gaining more of her knowledge of her husband, and comfort in his company on the harder days. Most mornings she’d wake at the side of her husband caressing her swelling stomach, trying to soothe the child growing within her, hoping to allow it’s mother some more sleep. Though, Horace respectively worked hard on the family business, he worried for his young wife’s health and the risks that came with childbirth as it was still a risk even with the best aid they could afford. By the following year, in the middle of April 1909 their first son was born after long hours of labouring. Horace named their first son Archibald after his late father. The exhausted young mother agreed, as long as, Gilbert became his second name. After her father whom died from influenza in the later stages of her pregnancy. As a couple they had gained more of a solid relationship through the birth of their first son, often doing their most to experience with the young boy they fondly called ‘Archie’ together. Everything thrived with the booming family, and excelling business that the two families had worked so hard to maintain. Bet took her place at her husband’s side after the birth of their third son Septimius Vincent. As she felt that she was needed to assist her husband in opening up some further expansion plans for the family business. Which was when their first pleasure house was opened up in White Chapel, by the time their four and final son was born Julius Hiram whom was stillborn, Bet was struck by the brief of the loss after it had left her fighting for her own due to infection. Horace felt his wife begin to slip away even after passing the infection, and recovering. Her grief had caused her to neglect looking after herself, and moving up in the family business. It took months of her state to improve, and then the officials came knocking on their town house door with an order to take Mrs. Rosamond into custody under suspicions of her being an Austro-Hungarian spy. Truth be told the young woman was cleared of not being a spy, yet was tasked a mission even her husband couldn’t know about. To spy on officials and check in on the general life in Austria throughout the war. To others it looked like she was just being deported, and thrown away for good. Separated pained Georgiana, but the realisation that she was once more pregnant with her husband’s child made her commit to the course, and fight to protect the chance of going home to meet her love once more. Protecting her cover, one of her second-cousins stepped up and took the role of her husband in a chaotic time of Austria. Acting as her support, and companion in that time, even though she remained loyal to a fault with Horace. Sending word rarely through to her husband, managing to get a letter with a photograph of her and their first daughter to him when she was born in February of 1915. Her daughter was raised in Austria much like her mother was, though when the war ended she went home with her mother to England. The reunion with husband, and sons was said to be something of her dreams one of the notable times she was seen sobbing in public. War had broken so many people, and it had robbed her husband of his ability to walk. Moving to head of the Rosamond household at her husband condition, Bettina became a strong-minded figure. Loyalty never faltering from her family and the business. Though, since she had spent some time away from her young children, when she came home her sons struggled to reconnect with her. Which has caused resentment toward members of authority such as Mr. Winston Churchill. Henrietta fell into alignment with her siblings quite easily though, her brothers holding a sense of endearment towards their youngest sibling. Horace was depressed from the war, and lost in the mindset of those days when he was able. A depression that almost lead to his suicide, but Bettina stopped him at the right time. Supporting her husband through his woes, and the struggles that he now faced many rich men began to approach her trying to take her under their wing as their mistress or lover. Yet, she refused. The grown woman of twenty-eight had her family and business to worry about. Reaching out to the Peaky Blinders as a wish to push an Alliance, Bettina has offered herself at the disposal of Thomas Shelby in order to keep her unwell husband alive. Willingly doing whatever the Shelby brother wishes of her to do, much like she did at the age of seventeen with her husband ten years ago. To benefit her parents then, but now her husband and children.

Personality Traits: Loyal - It is a spoken trait of the Schmidt family that loyalty means everything. Bettina possesses this trait and it could quite possibly be her own downfall. If there was any dog that could explain the level of loyalty Bet held for her family and close friends it would be the German Shepherd. She’s always there for the people that need her in the lines of business and personal relationships. A downfall of her loyal personality is that she has a bad habit of forming a bias for the people she cares about. Though, after time and energy in thinking through situation she’d often see the other side to the story. Bettina often struggles with people that can’t grasp the importance of loyalty. In one of the views that really personally erks her is when a spouse, or lover can’t seem to hold a level of loyalty. Inturn people that she knows are like this aren’t respected by her. Loving & Devoted - Love has what kept Bet alive throughout the war, in various ways. After the separation from her children after their father was taken to fight at war her need to get back to her children has truly shown through. Finding ways to get in contact with them even countries away from them, from morse code message on their birthdays through agents, cards and letters when their little sister was born. She found no matter the distance she’d do anything for them, making sure they were taken care of and watched by her workers. Finally at the war’s end Bettina took all the time in the world around her, trying to make up for the lost time with her children. Even if her debications to work called, the mother always made sure to have time with her family. Driving them out to the countryside on holy days, and having a picnic. Getting some assistance on those days to make sure her husband’s wheelchair could come along too. During the long cold nights she stays by her husband’s side, speaking with him about his worries and fears. In the comfort of their own privacy in their bedroom. Soothing her husband lovingly when he crumbles with his fears and the thoughts about topic of discussion. Bettina has accepted what has happened to her husband, and loves him no-less because of his condition. Nor will she ever let him feel that he’s a burden to her. Business Orientated - From a early age Bettina has been raised about the importance of Good Business, and how to keep that kind of business. Forming and solidifying alliances with other gangs and powerful people. Originally she was believed to be a quiet observer by her husband’s side during the early days of their marriage. On some notable occasions with Darby Sabini apparent King of the Underground in London. Yet, she very quickly out-stepped those thoughts made by others. Becoming a rather ambitious rival that looked for alliances in many places, even the most unlikely. More impressively those business endeavours with the most unlikely have more often proved the most successful for the Rosamond Family. Bettina’s charming wit, and surprising amount of scarcaims have also helped on many occasions with known sexiest. The business woman is more than happy to take her success as an example of what women can do outside of a kitchen or nursery. Or more blunty not lying in bed for their husband’s to please themselves with. She openly recognizes that this is now the time for change as women have proved themselves rather useful at holding up the fort during the war, why should they be tucked away in their kitchens again? She hopes to make a larger place for women within the world, and the people she works around. Bet believes it's important for her daughter to know, and understand that she doesn’t have to be a simple house wife. Intelligent - Gifted the highest and best education that Bettina could afford in a considerably wealthy family had its up sides. But not all of her intellect came from the education from schools, and professional tutors. From a young age Bettina learnt what he family business was, and how she could use that to her advantage in any background. Her adaptive personality has allowed her brain survive the worse of conditions, most of all back in the war. She always holds more cards at her disposal, and uses them with great care which has been part of the reason she's respected by the paranoid Sabini, and hasn't had any trouble from them. Mothering - Extremely capable at being a mother, Bettina from a young age helped people in Austria with delivering and raising their children before having any of her own. Now that she is a mother of her own, and a busy business woman, Bet tries to balance her life to be there for her children, often taking them with her when it came to travelling her children often stuck by her. Her eldest son has now begun to hand out some of her letters to people she wishes to meet along with his little sister Henrietta, often putting up that it was just children sending letters that their father or mother wants to pay off something. Giving her business a little more of an innocent face before the person reads the letter. Outside of work hours she often enjoys spending time with her children in the country-side, having a picnic, or joyous times. When she or her husband aren't with her children they are all watched with respective body guards that she appointed after years of service, trust and loyalty. If those guards slip up she's more than happy to execute them herself to ensure the safety of their children. Archibald is often in her company for business day now because of the fact he's the heir to the Rosamond legacy, yet Henrietta is also there so she learns that woman have just as much strength as men. It was the way her father raised her in Vienna, Austria as a child also. Excellent Spy - As a young woman married into a family quickly in a foreign country, Bettina became quite the observer over time watching on from the distance. Never able to be detected when entering from room to room, the young woman seemingly would float through atmospheres rather nicely, able to observe and get information from her targets without them even noticing. Bettina's acting skills are also something that made the young woman in places of high class, to the lowest of class between the many roles she could play.

((OOC- Face Claim; Idda Van Munster))

#peaky fookin blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders #peaky blinders rp #peaky blinders roleplay #rp #idda van munster #1920s flapper #1920 #rp oc #oc #roleplay #writing partner wanted #original character #strong female characters #paired with alfie solomon #paired with tommy shelby #alfie solomons x oc #tommy shelby x oc

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

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EastEnders Iconic Episodes:- Who Killed Lucy Beale? (30th Anniversary)

Tuesday 28th July 2020

Good evening everyone! I'm sorry for the late post, but with lock-down slowly easing. I am now back at both my every day jobs, and also looking making some huge personal changes too, it's been a busy for me that's for sure! But I am now back and I'm happy to see that the latest iconic episode to be shown was the memorable revelation as to who killed Lucy Beale? This was a brilliant, live, hour-long special episode to celebrate the soap's 30th anniversary, everyone went crazy with the #EELive! What amazes me is that it has been 5 years since Lucy died? That has flown super quick! I remember this episode was another gripping one, it was also people had been waiting for for 10 months! Who did kill Lucy? Everything was about to be revealed in this episode which originally aired 19 February 2015!

As you can see from the picture above, there were many characters in the front line who could've been possible culprits. These were the ones the soap kept teasing to us ... from left to right ... Pam, Lee, Cindy, Max, Denise, Ian, Peter, Abi, Jane, Ben, Whitney, Les and Jay! As far as I know, each one had had a run-in with Lucy up until her death. But who had committed the murder?!

I love that right at the beginning of the episode, they kinda remake the opening of EastEnders' very first episode from 19th February 1985, absolutely perfect to mark it's 30th anniversary! It starts with Stacey, Martin and Kush breaking into someone's house and Stacey stating "Cor, it really stinks in here, doesn't it?!" ... there looked to have been a fire in the house and as they make their way into the house, they find the body of Nick Cotton, (absolutely mirroring the first episode where the cast find the body of Reg Cox) ... as I'm watching it now, I can't believe the difference in Martin ... clean shaven and he looks like he has a baby face! Absolutely brilliant!

As far as I remember, it had been the second wedding of Jane and Ian ... it had come to light to Peter and Jane that it was someone in the family who had murdered Lucy. Lauren had given Jane a card to say that Lucy had been killed inside the house, but how and why? I re-watch this now and can't believe how brilliant the acting is considering it's live! Adam Woodyatt and Laurie Brett in particular are fantastic! So there look to be different things going on, Stacey realising that Dot knew Nick was staying in house and also mystery of who killed Lucy. Questions are being thrown from different directions, Ian is sat on the couch taking every bit of information in, it seems the Beale family believe Denise may have something to do with Lucy's death, as she was living at the property at the time. Ian leaves to go and find Denise but then he gets distracted by Martin asking him for help regarding Dot.

There's so much to take in, I can't quite remember what was happening with previous characters, Mick being aware of Dean's return, and then we see Lauren be sick in the sink while Abi looks over her. Also the difference in Sharon then as she is now! Much more glamours with the long blonde hair and face full of make-up! We know what is to be revealed at the end of this episode, but for quite a few weeks Phil had been playing up, keeping secrets and having his phone ring constantly by an unknown caller! What the heck had Phil been up to? Also it looks as if Kim is pregnant with Pearl in this episode and if I remember rightly, she gives birth to her in the Queen Vic toilet with Denise at her side! I am thrilled to hear that Kim will be making a comeback when the soap returns later in the year, it's been so long since we've seen Kim. But her comeback will be one of the best, she's a character who brings such light onto the soap!

I thought it was really clever when Peter entered the Vic, everyone asking him genuine concerned questions. Asking if he was alright, where Jane and Ian were? You could see that everywhere he turned, he couldn't help but think one of those people had potentially killed his twin sister, and with everyone asking how he was, he had to get out of there! Wow, so many moments where you question if it was a specific character who killed Lucy. When Ian and Sharon were around at Dot's making sure she was okay, she explains to them both how she let Nick kill himself and carried on without saying a word to anyone and how can live in peace now she was able to tell someone. Ian's face looks as if he's worked out who killed Lucy, but also looks as if he understands that someone keeping a secret to protect someone that they love is important.

Then the scene after where Jane is on the phone to Masood is another brilliant scene! We know that Jane and Masood did have a thing for one another a while ago, whether or not it was before all this Lucy story kicked off, Masood does care for Jane ... as a dear friend, and maybe just that little bit more. But he knows something isn't right, he's convinced Ian has done something, but Jane won't tell him. I remember watching this thinking, "She has told Masood to tell Bobby that everything is going to be alright, plus she is looking so guilty when she doesn't respond to Masood, but yet also, that could just be because she knew Ian was on a mission for answers from Denise!" .... so it was a difficult one to say whether Jane knew something or not, I love how much this soap made us change our minds over and over again to who the actual killer was!

Also Denise plays a huge part in this story-line, she was living with Ian during the time Lucy was killed and this particular episode, it looks as if Ian and Denise went their separate ways and at the very beginning of the episode, she made a comment about Jane and how she almost didn't say "I do!" to marrying Ian. Denise is clearly heated up about something and taking it out on Kim! I loved that moment when Kim is in labour in the toilets and Denise goes in to apologise for slagging her off earlier, only to realise her sister is in labour and the first thing she says is "You're not due for another two months!" ... like it's her fault! Haha! Typical sisterly love right there! I also think it's brilliant when she runs out to get help from Sonia, and she is covered in cake after being insulted by Kat ... Sonia tells Denise abruptly "If she's ill i'm off duty!" for then Denise to say "She's not ill!" and suddenly it clicks, both Sonia and Tina follow Denise into the girl's toilets.

I love how there are so many people in the one room at Dot's house, talking about how they're all going to keep Nick's death a secret. It's true that each and every one of them in that room care about Dot and none of them are willing to let her get in trouble with the police, I believe so far, it's the best kept secret in the square, it's true that Nick's death has never been mentioned since!! Does anyone remember what's happening with Kat during all of this? She makes a show of herself in the Vic, assaults Sonia and then she's weeping to Stacey on the bench, saying she tried so hard ... has this got something to do with Alfie? As we see, before she kicks off on Sonia, she goes to head towards Alfie in the Vic, but Sonia comes in her way. Was this the time they briefly broke up? Was this during the time Alfie was engaged to Roxy? If anyone can remember, please let me know! I do feel for Kat sometimes, I love since she's been in the square, we've learnt so much about her past and her character. To me, Kat and Alfie have always been the iconic EastEnders couple ... before Mick and Linda! I always thought Kat and Alfie would be together forever, they were literally soul mates ... and for some horrible reason, they keep falling apart and getting back together months later!

Did anyone else see the episode of Secrets From The Square last Monday (20th July 2020) of Diane Parish and Tameka Empson? I loved how they described Tameka filming that childbirth scene during the live episode, Tameka was hilarious how she explained it. They'd count down from 5 until they were due to go live and she'd leap into the sounds of labour and then stop and relax as if nothing had happened seconds later! I thought it was brilliant! You can see in these live clips how everyone's performance is shining through! Now, we see Dean has creeped into the Vic ... what is doing back in the Square? I'm assuming he has already raped Linda before this, which is why Mick is wanting to keep Linda unaware of Dean's presence being back in the square. Dean takes out what appears to be a petrol can, from a bag ... your mind suddenly races, is he going to threaten to set the Vic alight?!

Okay, so if i'm right in thinking ... the moment when you see Ian walking towards his house, alone in the street and Mick calls to him to come back into the Vic to celebrate his wedding. Is it the moment where Ian knows something? He knows that someone in his household killed his daughter! Hense why he asked the question to Mick, "Have you ever killed someone?" "How long can you hide it until you crack?" I believe that was the moment everyone kinda thought "Hold on!" Ian knows! Is he about to confront the person who killed Lucy?" It's a bit of an awkward conversation for Mick, but it's amazing to see how Ian knows who it potentially could be! Even Mick clicks "You know don't you? You know who killed Lucy?" I remember thinking "Oh shit!" Hahaha!

Awwwww early stages of Martin and Stacey!!! Martin leaning in to give her a kiss and she backs away, clearly he hasn't been back on the Square long! It's incredible to think how far they've both come within the past 5 years! Awwww and there we have it, Pearl being brought into the soap, I remember panicking thinking the poor child hadn't made it when everyone was silent, and then there comes the babies cry and everyone is celebrating! It's amazing how many different emotions have happened in this episode, a birth and the revelation of a death! Simply amazing! I also want to point out that Patrick is slurring his words, this would've been his slow recovery from the stroke he had! I remember worrying thinking Patrick wasn't going to survive, but I am thrilled he has been on the soap for so long! I don't think the Square would be anything without Patrick!

Ahhh so this is a very memorable moment, we see Phil is waiting for someone, looking at his phone in a deserted area and decides to head off, but before he leaves a taxi pulls up! I remember thinking who the hell is he meeting up with? Most guessed it might've been Grant or Lisa?! But Oh My Goodness no one expected it to be Kathy!!!!! What an iconic memorable moment, and in such EastEnders style, slowly walk up and those words "Hello Phil!" ... I realise now that the next two people you see after Kathy being revealed is Ben in the pub with Jay, and then Ian on the swings ... how amazing that editing is!!! Kathy arrives back to Walford and both her sons are shown not having the foggiest idea that she's back!!! Brilliant! I can't applaud the writers enough, I just thought it was so so clever!!

Another face no longer in the soap is Vincent, and yet when Kim is being taken to the hospital with her new born baby, he looks on from afar ... it's sad that Denise and Kim have this fall out. If only Kim had known Vincent was there! I still think he should've made himself known and then Denise would've swallowed her words and Kim would've had someone with her when she went to the hospital. But of course Denise never meant to hurt Kim's feelings, as we have seen in recent years Denise loves little Pearl and she has become a beautiful child on the Square.

Ah okay, so Kathy was begging Phil to let her come home, am I right in thinking that he had known for a while that Kathy was alive? This secretive behaviour with Phil had been happening for quite some time, and it wasn't completely known what he was getting up to. It's amazing to have such an iconic character return on such an epic episode! At first Phil refuses to let Kathy come back as it would mess up Ben and Ian's heads, but before she leaves, she begs him to let her return! Next minute Peter is approaching Denise claiming that it was her, even calling her a bitch! Denise has absolutely no idea what is going on, luckily Ian interferes before anything kicks off and basically states to Peter that he has got it wrong and leads Peter away. It's not going to be long now until the killer is revealed!

Oh gosh, Nancy walks into the cellar after also smelling something dodgy, she walks in a Dean grabs her from behind. She shouts out to her Dad and Mick walks in to find Dean holding on to his daughter. They tell him not to even think about setting the Vic alight, Dean decides to let Nancy go as his argument isn't with her, he states all he wants is the Vic. I remember watching this on the edge of my seat. Does anyone remember what Dean was like before he became a rapist? Before he returned! He was a bit of a teenager and everyone seemed to fancy him, perhaps a little bit off the rails but nowhere near as bad as he was now, he had become such a brilliant villain and to be honest, I found it incredible to watch! How had he been transformed into such a hated character?! Brilliant script writing! Mick and Dean are both talking, Dean claiming that he's not a rapist and what Linda had said was all lies, Mick doesn't believe a word and grabs a fire extinguisher from behind him. Nancy informs Dean that Shriley, Dean's Mum, is in the Vic with everyone else ... this briefly distracts Dean and Mick takes his chance and goes for Dean with the extinguisher, forcing the lighter out of his hand, only to then knock him backwards, onto the floor and step on his throat, almost choking Dean. Nancy drags her Dad away as Dean lies there lifeless, I remember thinking, "Oh crap! Has he just killed Dean?!"

Oh how sad! Dot being sat in the back of a police car and saying goodbye to her son. That was a moment I think everyone didn't expect to see. She didn't kill her son, not really. She just didn't help him. There is a difference isn't there? Dot had gone through years of abuse from her son, it was about time he got his comeuppance. Even though she was his Mum, she loved him dearly and she would've done anything to support him, even if he was in the wrong. She was only doing what was right as a mother, everyone knows that! I can't recall much of Dot's story-line, but I'm sure she wasn't in jail ... and even if she was, she wasn't for long.

Oooooh I remember this! Everyone in the Beale household approaches the phone as it rings, but before anyone can answer it, it goes to Ian in the cafe. "It's me ... I know it was you who killed Lucy. Get everyone out of the house. I'm coming home!" .... WHO WAS HE SPEAKING TO????? I remember shaking, i'm shaking now reliving it! Everyone was desperate to know who it was! Peter, Jane or Cindy? They are the only possible 3 people it could've been!!!! We see Ian walk into the house on his own, no one in sight until we hear footsteps coming down the stairs, Ian picks up a picture frame of Lucy, turns around and says "Tell me exactly what happened that night!" ... to JANE!!!! I remember gasping! I didn't think at all it would've been Jane, I didn't quite believe it to begin with, but as we know, the next episode revealed that she was covering for Bobby. Bobby was the one who actually killed Lucy. Jane would've done anything to save her son from being in trouble with the police. I just remember being gobsmacked ... for 10 months we had no idea who had killed Lucy and for it to be all unravelled the way it was, was absolutely brilliant! Am I right in thinking that it was 2 live episodes that covered the reveal? What an epic way to celebrate an anniversary!

I loved these episodes so much and I'm thrilled that the reveal of Who Killed Lucy was chosen as an iconic episode, because it really was iconic! The reveal of a death, a birth, a return from the dead ... it had everything! We have just had the 35th Anniversary, I know it's a way off yet, but I can't wait to see what big plans they come up with for the 40th Anniversary! If it was anything as big as this then i'm certain it'll be epic! I've loved seeing the cast all the way through this episode and seeing what they were like back then, it's sad seeing characters who are now no longer in the soap ... Abi, Lauren, Tanya, Dot, Nancy, Lee, Dean, Fatboy, Christian, Carol, Vincent ... it's wonderful to see all these familiar faces! It makes me sad that some of these brilliant actors and actresses aren't in it anymore! I would love to see so many of them come back, wouldn’t you? Out of the ones I have mentioned, who would you like to see return to Albert Square? Please feel free to message me, I’ll always reply to your comments! I believe the next iconic episode to be shown will be the Christmas episode of Max and Stacey's affair being revealed, another brilliantly written episode! I can't wait to write up about that one!

I hope you've all enjoyed this post, I can only apologise on how late it is. I'll be back with the follow up post of the iconic episodes very soon! Thanks again everyone, look after yourselves xXx

#eastenders #iconic episode #lucybeale #whokilledlucy #ianbeale #janebeale #denisefox #kimfox #philmitchell #kathybeale #mickcarter #deancarter #dotbranning #nickcotton #martinfowler #staceyslater

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worldchildlabourday · 5 months ago

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Panel discussion - World Child labour Day 2024.

The high-level side event organized by the ILO during the 112th Session of the International Labour Conference, at the fringes of the Recurrent Item Discussion on Fundamental Principles and Rights at Work, celebrates the 25 years since the adoption of ILO Convention No. 182.

Panel 1: Eliminating child labour - progress, challenges and the way forward.

Panel 2: Partnerships to scale up action.

It also provides an opportunity for tripartite constituents to discuss advances and challenges in relation to the elimination of child labour with the aim to improve implementation worldwide, as well as to promote universal ratification of ILO Convention No. 138.

World Day Against Child Labour 2024 Panel discussion. Today at 13:30 until Wednesday, 12 June 2024 at 14:45 (Europe/Paris).

International Labour Organization; ILO Arab States - منظمة العمل الدولية، المكتب الاقليمي للدول العربية; International Labour Centre (ILC); ILO - Labour Migration Africa; OIM México

#international labour organization #child labour #panel discussion #forced labor #challenges and progress #ilo declaration on fundamental principles and rights at work #protecting workers #worst forms of child labour #hazardous work #high level events #let’s act on our commitments: end child labour #oit #ilo #panelists

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megalony · 5 years ago

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Fractured pieces- Part 1

This is a new Roger Taylor series I am working on inspired by the lovely @butlegendsneverdie thank you for the ideas and inspiration lovey. This is going to be based off of the storyline to my two other series ‘I do love you’ and ‘Our boy’ but with another twist in the story.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @langdonzvoid @butlegendsneverdie @luvborhap @jennyggggrrr @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan

Summary: Roger’s best friend (Y/n) passed away having their son, now the drummer is left to look after their boy on his own. He made a promise to love and protect his boy, so that is just what he will do.

I do love you masterlist

Our boy masterlist

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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Roger felt broken.

That was the only word out there to describe the state the drummer found himself in. The nurse standing on his right was the only thing stopping him from falling to the cold tiled floor beneath his feet and curling up to the point he was near invisible. The pain coursing through every single blood vessel and nerve in his body was the only thing stopping him from passing out right then and there.

The sight in front of him was what was making the tears fall faster, as Roger knew this wasn't what he had chosen to happen.

No one had listened to Roger, and why would they? He had felt like an invisible guest, like he was watching everything on the tv and simply shouting at the characters to make the choices he wanted them to. The choices he knew would give him the outcome he wanted, the outcome he deemed the best or the only good one. He felt cruel. Roger felt like a murderer who everyone knew had committed the crime but was allowed to walk free anyway. Roger was a murderer, in his mind at the very least. The drummer wanted to be sentenced for the person he wanted to die. The person who Roger should vow to love and protect at any and all costs.

His son.

The drummer was conflicted beyond belief for what he had said and what he had so wanted to happen. Roger had clearly told (Y/n) two weeks ago that their baby should be born then and there, it had been a silent message conveyed between them that Roger was willing to take that risk. Roger wanted their son to be born two weeks ago because he had made that choice. He would watch his son die or be stillborn because he wanted (Y/n) to live. Roger made the choice of saving (Y/n) instead of their baby because he loved her to the end of the Earth. Her life shouldn't be cut short to allow another one to start that may still pass away. Roger wanted (Y/n) to live and he was willing to lose their baby in order for that to happen.

(Y/n) couldn't do that. It was Roger and the doctor's jobs to think of the mother before the child but it was her job to put the child first. (Y/n) wasn't having that risk of losing her baby because that was a life she was meant to protect and create. What kind of a mother takes such a big risk that clearly stated their baby wouldn't survive but she would?

The options were clear. (Y/n)'s pre-eclampsia would not go away until the baby was born, but this early meant she would get better at the cost of losing her baby. (Y/n) wouldn't do that even if Roger told her he wanted her to. Roger said he loved her and he wasn't willing for her to risk her life like that, he left for three days when she didn't agree until he caved and came back. He had listened to her, how she told him their baby meant everything to her and Roger had to see it that way or she would never forgive him. She needed the drummer to feel the same way she did or in the least understand that their baby deserved the chance that she could give for them.

It wasn't that Roger didn't want their baby because he did. He had gone behind his wife's back and slept with his best friend which led to (Y/n) telling him their one night led to her being pregnant. Roger waited to get the courage to tell his wife what he had done. He had moved in with (Y/n) for one week until she was taken to hospital when he noticed she was ill. He had changed his life around because he wanted to be with (Y/n) and because he wanted this baby with her. But at the cost of (Y/n)'s life, Roger couldn't. He didn't see their child's life outweighing (Y/n)'s life, Roger cried relentlessly because he wanted to see this in (Y/n)'s eyes but he couldn't, she was worth more to him than their child and he couldn't unsee things that way.

(Y/n) went against Roger in deciding to hold on for as long as she could. She didn't agree to induce labour straight away, she waited until she was told her liver was failing and the baby needed to be born now.

She knew she made the right choice because she had given their baby that extra time to grow and develop before they were evicted into the world to cope on their own without her help. There was a higher chance their baby would be alright now she had waited. Roger had made a promise to (Y/n) that conflicted every emotion he held within him. He promised if something happened to her he would be there for their baby and he meant it.

Roger would never abandon their child because he loved them, he just felt (Y/n)'s life was worth more to him because he had known her for over a decade. She had made her way into his heart and she wasn't leaving, he didn't want to say goodbye to her, he could handle saying goodbye to their child because he didn't have that attachment to them yet.

(Y/n) wasn't here now.

It crushed every single part of Roger because he knew this was the choice he didn't want. He had lost his best friend at the price of gaining their baby. He prayed. He told whatever God or being out there that he wanted (Y/n) but they had gone against him and given him their son instead. Roger didn't hold it against their baby because they hadn't chosen this, it was (Y/n)'s choice and part of Roger could respect that. He could love their child at the cost of feeling guilty for the choice he had made that was not listened to.

Roger knew he had to make things right for (Y/n). She didn't get to see their boy who she had protected and given her life for, so Roger had to do everything he could for their baby so her life meant something more.

But he felt so guilty. Roger could already feel the love for his boy swelling in his heart and trying to overtake the guilt of what he had wanted to happen. He had been ready to condemn his boy for the sake of (Y/n) and in one light that was wrong but in the other it was justified. What was he meant to feel? What was he meant to do? How was he meant to act?

Every question that welled up inside Roger disappeared when the nurse on his right sat him down gently in a navy blue cushioned chair in front of an incubator. He hadn't paid much attention to where in the hospital she had helped him. His boy had been born yesterday but Roger couldn't find the courage or the strength to go and see him until now. He had been sat cradling (Y/n) until the doctor told him he needed to let her go now. The kind nurse at his side didn't say anything when she found him in the bereavement room curled up asleep on the sofa after crying his heart out for over four hours.

Freddie had been down when Roger called to say (Y/n) was having the baby, he had sat with the drummer for those four hours before leaving him to sleep. Tears streaming down his own face as he knew he had to tell Roger's wife what had happened. They were not on good terms but she needed to know the situation and he had called Brian and John, telling them to leave the drummer be for a day or two.

When the nurse came to see Roger in the morning he had asked where his son was. That night Roger had decided that his baby boy was his priority now. He needed to do what (Y/n) wanted, what she had given her life for. Roger needed to pour his heart and soul into his boy to make sure he lived and was loved and cared for. He needed to say sorry for wishing it was his boy instead of (Y/n) because Roger didn't deserve that choice. It had never been his to make, he needed to accept this had been up to (Y/n) and he needed to look after his boy now.

Roger's calloused hand delicately reached through the circular opening in the incubator when he heard the sound of the door closing signalling he was alone. The drummer was relieved his boy was in a room on his own so no prying eyes or other parents would be around him right now.

The moment Roger took his boy's hand delicately between his thumb and index finger a new set of tears made their tracks down his features. Ones of sadness yet great relief as he felt those miniature fingers curling around his own. Roger hadn't thought about having children before (Y/n) told him she was pregnant. He and his wife didn't discuss it because the timing had never been right and then things between them seemed to start to breakdown. He hadn't met the right person, and then Queen was just beginning to become big and then all the tours meant it wasn't right.

Then Roger was told about his boy. (Y/n) was the perfect person, Queen was big and didn't need to focus on getting any bigger or putting their name out there. Touring wasn't happening at the moment, but now Roger had to do this alone. Yet that thought wasn't so scary, of course he missed (Y/n) to the ends of the Earth and back but caring for his boy wasn't scaring him like he thought it would. He had always wanted children and now he had a boy.

"I'm sorry, little guy." Roger bit down hard on the inside of his lip to stop his voice from cracking as he rested his other hand through the other opening in the incubator. Trailing his fingers over the newborn's head, his eyes taking in just how small his baby boy was. He had been informed on the way down here that his boy had under-developed lungs, was likely to have stomach problems when he was a bit older and had been on the verge of his kidneys shutting down. That thankfully hadn't happened and his boy was in the clear for that but it didn't mean more problems wouldn't arise.

All that Roger cared about was not losing his boy, he didn't care what problems they faced as long as he could have his boy. He couldn't lose anyone else. "Your mum chose you, I... I didn't want to lose her. But, i-it's just you and me now, baby. I'm gonna take such good care of you, I promise. I love you so much." Roger felt it. He could actually feel why (Y/n) had chosen to save their boy instead of herself. His heart was shattered but he could feel something completely different erupting throughout his body like he had been injected with something. It was a kind of love and protection Roger had never felt before as the words spilled from his lips like water from a tap.

He loved the little boy in front of him, Roger wasn't going to let anything happen to him. He swore his life on that because this was his son, the newborn right in front of him was Roger's whole life now, the only thing Roger saw that was worth living for. He wasn't risking anything taking his boy away from him, he had been wrong yet right in the choice he had made. He didn't want to lose (Y/n) but now he was shown his boy, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose him either. Hopefully, he would never have to know.

It was just him and his boy now.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #Single Dad #imagine #queen band #fractured pieces

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comply4hr · 5 years ago

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Every Indian Employee Needs to Be Aware of These Important Labour Laws

With the biggest youth populace, as indicated by the United Nations, India remains at a point where the fantasy of turning into a super economy is never again a perfect world yet a sweet plausibility.

A major obstacle which stands between our dear PM’s ambitious projects and reality is labour laws in India. With blended perspectives, labour laws and changes have dependably been a theme of discussion. In such a situation, it ends up basic for workers in both sorted out and disorderly segments to know about the current laws and rights, and the on-going changes.

The Global Rights Index (2016), distributed every year by the International Trade Union Confederation (ITUC), positioned as India one of the 10 most noticeably terrible nations for working individuals. Savagery, huge scale prohibitions of specialists from work law, and captures are the explanations behind the nation's poor position.

India has been staunchly guarding its situation in the Index since 2014. There are eight center shows of the International Labor Organization (ILO) against constrained work. India has sanctioned just four, and will not agree to the accompanying four:

•Freedom of Association and Protection of the Right to Organize Convention

•Right to Organize and Collective Bargaining Convention

•Minimum Age Convention

•Worst Forms of Child Labor Convention

India has the brilliant chance to saddle the huge youth populace and assist financial development. Change in a nation's economy is set apart by the development of auxiliary and tertiary divisions.

At present, the offer of work in these divisions is under 30 %, however their commitment to the GDP is practically twofold that. Since they are work escalated, making openings for work in these segments winds up basic. Nonetheless, this guess can happen just when one strolls the way of work changes.

Several economists have ardently criticized the rigidity of labour law in India for private companies in the nation. They accept that these resolute laws are the purpose for decreased work openings, and can even be an impediment to the Make in India battle. They request adaptability in enlisting and terminating of representatives.

The Prime Minister, to satisfy his driven ventures, is intending to resume work changes by presenting two new bills—The Industrial Relations Code Bill (2016) and the Wage Code Bill (2016)— in the second 50% of the spending session. Like the land changes, even these bills are relied upon to be eagerly restricted by the resistance and worker's guilds.

Whatever may be the destiny of these bills, let us attract our regard for the current work laws. These laws are mind boggling, and the utilization and comprehension of them relies upon different components. The most ideal approach to fold your head over these laws is to get lawful guidance from a work and work law legal adviser. The following are the few labour law act in India every employee should know:

1. The Factories Act, 1948

This demonstration ensures specialists of a manufacturing plant, and its arrangements incorporate well-being, security, appropriate working hours, and so on. It indicates the working hours, yet in addition accommodates extra time pay to specialists who work past their day of work. Night movements must be on a rotational premise, and the organization is required to advise the workers regarding them in advance. No lady labourer should work between 10 PM and 5 AM, and on account of a night move, a notice must be given 24 hours before the move.

2. Payment of Gratuity Act, 1972

Tip is a retirement advantage paid as a token of a debt of gratitude is in order for the administrations advertised. An association with at least 10 representatives should pay tip to labourers who have laboured for a year or more. Tip is the last drawn compensation (aggregate of fundamental and dearness stipend) increased by the quantity of long stretches of administration. On the off chance that the business neglects to give tip, he/she faces jail for a term at the very least a half year and not over two years.

3. Employees’ Provident Fund and Miscellaneous Provisions Act, 1952

The EPF Act gives government managed savings advantages like benefits and protection spread to the worker of a foundation which has at least 20 representatives. In 2014, the legislature revised the demonstration and expanded the compensation roof from ₹6,500 every month to ₹15,000 every month. The pensionable compensation is a normal of the month to month pay for the commitment throughout the previous a year prior to enrollment closes.

4. Payment of Bonus Act, 1965

A representative working in a foundation with at least 20 labourers has rights to a reward under this demonstration. The reward is 8.33 %, and will not surpass 20 % of the representative's compensation. In 2015, the legislature revised this demonstration to expand the limit of wages from ₹10,000 to ₹25,000, consequently covering a bigger pool of workers.

5. Equal Remuneration Act, 1976

This demonstration avoids separation among specialists based on sexual orientation. As indicated by this demonstration, businesses can't segregate among sexual orientations in issues of wages, preparing, move, and advancement. The demonstration accommodates equivalent compensation to the two people specialists for a similar work done.

#labour laws in India #labour law in India for private companies #labour law act in India

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years ago

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Mary Magdalene

Or, The Unrepentant Sinner

Summary: The Duchess makes a social call to a new friend and they discuss the unsavory life of an exposed girl thrown into British high society.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1525

Notes: So, here we are. This time I swear to the Lord above it is going to be a one-shot. You hear me, God? One-shot.

And if you thought that eating Tide pods is a post-Millenial thing, let me introduce you to Goethe. The coolest thing an European aristocratic youth could do in 1799 was to kill themselves over unrequited love. Or ‘political despair’, whatever that is.

Enjoy! Pero no mucho.

(I’m tagging @lizeboredom just because. Sue me.)

“The world’s delight is sweet and lovely, its way of life is soft and adorned. For the world’s allurements I burn willingly - I’ll not shun their voluptuousness.”

~ Carmina Burana (XIII Century)

“Where were we, again?” An older lady takes a cup of tea sitting on the coffee table and brings to her lips.

The woman was absolutely stunning, despite going on years and the weight of a viduity, with a fair, smooth complexion, pale skin that seems to have never seen a working day in her life and a curly, black hair fashionably styled on the top of her head.

“You were telling me about the time you arrived at the house of your natural father, Your Grace.” Her companion responded.

“Of course.” The lady nods, reminded. “My sickly and horridly poor mother had only just died, after keeping my noble parentage hidden my entire life.

“I resent her over it to this day, as a life of a noble bastard is much superior than the living proof of the misdemeanors of a loose seamstress. But I must admit the woman had her use, as she had levered with my father to take me in upon her death.

“If not for that carefully worded, strategic delivered letter, I doubt I would be welcomed on the manor that warm summer afternoon. I would be just another orphan girl at the spike. My mother provided more dead than she ever did while alive.

“Good thing Vincent was never the kind to assert authority, too, bleeding heart like no other. Perhaps if he was, he would have thought to keep the bastard on her rightful place, but he clung on to an idea of family, and my arrival seemed to be the last straw for him to grasp.”

“Perhaps he thought it to be a blessing.” The interlocutor weighed. “A daughter that late in life! For a dying line, no less. Some families can only dream on being so fortunate.”

She chuckled dismissively. “If only I was a man, perhaps I would tend towards your line of thought. But no, I was no saving grace. Indeed, the late earl had to go to great lengths to assure my right of succession. Nevertheless, if nothing else, undeserving I was not.

“You know the law of the land. Women shall hold no property. It would not be so simple to solve like a simple letter to the Prince Regent, I had to work if I wanted my birthright to be recognized. And as soon as I stepped foot in Edgewater, I started assessing my assets.”

“You seem savvy for a peasant just off the hovels.” The companion comments.

A sombre look passes through the face of the Duchess. “Poverty is a cruel mistress. I lacked just about every gift one must have to prosper within the upper echelons of society, except for wit and determination. I would not return to the miserable life my mother bequeathed me. I was certain that while I breathed, I would fight.”

“And fight you did.” The other noted. “What about the rest of the family?”

“My grandmother, Dominique, was willing to go to great lengths to help me. She tried to convince me it was a labour of love, but for all her age, I was wiser. Her hatred against my stepmother knew no bounds, and the sentiment was reciprocate. She would be out on the streets if my father happened to pass. A sympathetic, and dependant, figure on the head of the family was a necessity.

“My greatest threat was my stepbrother. My actual brother, half-brother that is, had died the prior summer on a hunting accident. Ever since then, Edmund had been filling the position of heir to the estate, but the man was absolutely inadequate. No wit to speak of, nor charm, and a small dog passing as hair.

“If it was only him, it would be only too easy. No, the danger laid with my stepmother. Vincent had let his wife walk all over him for the better part of two decades by the time I arrived, Henrietta had a comfortable station at the manor and was not about to lose it all to me without a fight.”

“What about the Duke? How does he fit in with the story?” The conversationalist questioned.

“Yes, I am getting there.” The Duchess tattles slightly annoyed. “I met Tristan at my first gathering at the manor. By then, I was involved with our neighbour, Ernest Sinclaire. A handsome man, charming on occasion, shamelessly wealthy. His greatest flaw, however, was a pathological sense of sociability.”

The interlocutor chuckled. “Was he too talkative?”

The woman could not help but laugh at the notion. “Much the opposite. Sour like rotten passion fruit. Ernest could not be bothered to interact with his fellow human beings. If he was so inclined, you could count it to be an admonishment.”

“What makes him memorable, then?”

“Looking back, I believe his demeanour was more related to shyness than haughtiness. He had been orphaned at a young age and had no relatives or close acquaintances other than my father and grandmother. Moreover, as such, he was fun to tease.

“In fact, more than fun, it was incredible useful. Ernest and Tristan had an intense rivalry, probably over the fact that Ernest was young and handsome, two things the Duke intensely desired to be, while actually being loud and boisterous, traits the young landlord despised over any other.

“By showing favour to Ernest, I became all the more desirable to Tristan. By the end of that summer, I was engaged to the Duke, telling Ernest it was the designs of my family and I could not do a thing.”

“What did he do about that?” The other asks, with a sober tone, fitting to the subject.

“What all the young men of his time were doing.” She says, with a disconcerting coldness. “He killed himself. A shot to his head and a depressive journal explaining, in detail, what led him to the act. Just like in The Sorrows of Young Werther.”

“How ghastly!” The companion gasps.

The Duchess shrugs. “If he wished for death, he got his bullet’s worth. If you are so inclined to pity anyone, pity the living. For the dead, there is nothing to be done.”

Faced with the constrained silence of her companion, the noblewoman continues her tale: “Of course, for a will to come to fruition, someone has to die. My marriage was not enough.”

“You killed your father?” The companion inquired, taken aback.

“Of course not. Once married, I had fulfilled the designs of the earl’s will. I was the heir, and a Duchess, and so I had no hurry for him to die. But die he did.” The woman takes a sip from her tea. “Hunting accident, as fate has you. It was not in my best interest having my father dead. Henrietta, herself, was on a different mind.”

“But if you were recognized as heir and had fulfilled the conditions for inheritance, wouldn’t you stepmother be thrown on the streets upon viduity?” The conversationalist wonders. “Or did she believe to have in you an ally? A charitable, devout soul, if nothing else.”

“No, of course not. Henrietta was brash, not a mule. She thought she could question the will on court, on grounds that my father had another match in mind, and dead men don’t tell tales.” A small pause pass before the Duchess continues, “If it came to fail, I suspect she would try to pin the murder on me.”

“But she could not.” The interlocutor says with certainty and the Duchess hums her agreement. “What did you do?”

“Have you ever heard that between two people there are no secrets?” The noblewoman asks, an amused smile on her face. “Henrietta did not commit the murder herself. She put her child to do it, and he complied with her designs. But Edmund was a good Christian, he felt legitimately conflicted about the crime, and so he confessed his wretched emotions to a sympathetic ear.”

“You?”

She snorted. “God, no. He confided on his fiancée, Theresa Sutton. However, I would say it would have been better if he went straight to the constable. It was a careless decision, certainly, as the girl was ambitious and had a clear sight of how increasingly unfavourable that match was becoming. She had signed up to be a countess, after all, not some lukewarm relative of a Duchess-Consort.

“She bartered the information with me for my help on the marriage market. I set her up with some old-and-grey marquis, acquaintance of Tristan’s, who soon made of Theresa a wealthy, wealthy widow. My stepmother was hanged for orchestrating the murder of her husband and trying to usurp the title of a peer of the realm. Edmund was spared of such a fate, but was deported to Australia. The last I heard, though, was that he did not make it to the Cape.”

A spell of silence befell the two of them before the companion asks, “What of the Duke?”

“I was a dotting and dutiful wife to Tristan.” She hummed. “I was, indeed. I kept his properties flourishing, his bed warm and was a darling companion on every social engagement of his. I gave him two beautiful daughters and a healthy son. In all, I have been a bastion of propriety up until his untimely death.”

A sip of tea and a wicked smile, the Duchess whispers: “The lead I put on his food notwithstanding.”

The two of them chuckle darkly.

“But enough about me.” The Duchess say. “How about you, darling?”

#desire & decorum #ernest sinclaire #duke tristan richards #vincent of edgewater #edmund marlcaster #theresa sutton #henrietta of edgewater

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years ago

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Drops and runs scsi

Eren had had a rough night. His fiancé hadn't been able to settle, and the pain in his lower back had reduced him to sobs and screams if he so much as moved ever so slightly on the wrong angle. They'd tried a warm shower, and a warm bath. Levi had massaged Eren's tender lower back while his teen wept, but nothing had seemed to help. Even after Hanji had been summoned to their room, after someone had heard Eren's screams, she hadn't been able to provide much in the way of relief. She'd given him an injection to help with the pain, but it'd barely taken the edge off. That's when Levi had thrown her back out, and how Eren had ended up sitting up and sleeping in his arms, after using masturbation as pain relief. Eren always got sleepy after he came, and his poor omega was desperate for some kind of relief and release. It was only seconds after he'd brought Eren to orgasm that his teen finally slumped against him. His racing heart helping to spread the effects of the injection so much faster than if Eren had just been laying in bed. With Eren finally sleeping, Levi didn't dare move. He was supposed to have met with Erwin the previous day, but the filth of his room had gotten on his nerves, so he'd set about cleaning the whole place through. The only space not to cop his wrath was their bed, where he'd set Eren up with a beaten old journal he'd found in his desk the previous night. It might not be the one that Zeke stole, yet it gave Eren an outlet for his thoughts and feelings, and his omega had tearfully thanked him, before getting straight to work. When he thought about it, that was probably why Eren's back hurt, from laying on his side and writing for hours on end. Or they maybe over did it as they took pleasure in each other, both wanting to make sure the other was truly alright. But he thought his slow and gentle rhythm wouldn't have hurt his lover so much. He'd spooned up behind Eren so the teen wouldn't have to move or exert himself. Hearing the key scrape in its lock, followed by the door creaking, Levi released his hold on Eren's spent dick. Once his omega had fallen asleep, he hadn't dared move, but he wasn't about to have a conversation while touching Eren so intimately. Smelling Erwin, Levi shushed him before the man could even open his mouth. In his sleep, Eren whined softly, probably sensing the intrusion. Kissing his scent gland, he nosed at the sweet oil leaking from it. Eren smelt too sweet, almost like the sickly sweet sweat of sickness "How is he? I hear he had a rough night. We thought he might be going into labour" "He's not. He's in pain, and I've only just gotten him to sleep, so spit it out and get out" "In that case, I need you to head up the Squad heading to Trost" "You're joking, right?" "We just received word that there was an attack on Hermina's outer gate this morning. The fear is that Trost will be next" "Erwin you told us to run. Then you brought us back, and locked us up like prisoners. I'm not doing shit for you. Not with Eren like this" "Do you think I wanted you here? Or wanted him here? We don't know what's going to happen during his labour, while you came back half dead" "Because of Zeke" "Ah yes, Eren's mythical brother" "Just cut the shit. Why do you want me to go?" Erwin gave a half laugh "You have no idea what kind of situation we're all in. There was a shifter attack in the Capital. Eren is the only known shifter. Both he and you have been missing for the last 3 months, and now this has happened. The Survey Corps has been accused of conspiring to commit treason. It's all I can do to keep the Military Police from storming the castle" "So you want to make a show of strength? We both know the shitty MP's aren't going to come out here, they're all a bunch of chicken shit cowards. Why can't Hanji lead the Brat Squad. Her and Mike can handle this" "She's already left. She left at first light for Hermina, before we got news of the attack" "So this is rescue mission then?" If Hanji reached Hermina and heard the news about a possible battle in Trost, she'd do everything she could to help, before turning her attention there... "Possibly. We don't have the numbers to fight this fight on all sides" "I'm not leaving Eren like this. Any small thing may send him into labour" "His friends..." "Will scare him" "He's still recovering? He was only with them for two months" "Only. You have no idea what they did to him, do you? 3 months isn't enough to erase those wounds" "He's spend more time out of there hands than he did being held" "Do you have any idea what they did to him? They flayed him alive. Whipped him while telling him he was monster who should be dead. They cut off his toes, his fingers, his hands, his feet, his legs, his arms. They boiled him like a hunk of meat. They poured hot oil over him, before setting him on fire. They cut him open to play with his organs. They sliced his skin off like it was cheese, to watch it regrow. They put a shitty feeding tube down his throat to keep the baby alive, and promised him they'd experiment on it next. He was lucky when he first came round, his memories were hidden by a thick cloud of drugs in his mind. Over the last three months, he's been remembering it all. They broke him in every single way they could, before leaving him to fucking drown. It took weeks for him to be able to shower. The first time he tried to take a bath, he was so fucking scared he passed out. He's still fucking scared and any of this shit could mean he loses the baby. He's had enough fucking complications and I will not lose my child because you feel the need to show everyone how big your dick is" He might have over exaggerated a few things, but for the most part, it was true "We all have our jobs to do" "Fuck off" "Two days. That's all I ask. Go to Trost. Show them you're back" "And then what? Make myself a target?" "Take them out if you have to, just get the heat off of us, or find some proof that Zeke exists" "The bullet wound isn't enough?" "Not when Eren could have been the one to shoot you" "Eren didn't shoot me. We didn't even have access to ghouls blood" "You and he are the only witnesses" "Then send Mike to sniff things out" "Mike is busy as it is" "I'm fucking busy" "You and Eren are supposed to be detained in the dungeon. So don't act like I'm not on your side" "You're not. Then only side you're on, is your own" Erwin's voice dropped several degrees "Two days Levi. You can fucking leave him alone for two days. You leave tonight" Erwin left, Levi wincing as he slammed the door harder than necessary. What the fuck was he supposed to tell Eren? Hanji could possibly be in trouble... and because it was for medical reasons, she would have taken Moblit along with her. Mike was off doing shit, and Eren's friends would only stress him further. * Levi let Eren rouse naturally. His fiancé whimpering as he stretched, before climbing from Levi's hold with a long whine "Eren?" "Need to use the bathroom" "Do you need help?" "Please... fuck... it hurts" He was hoping Eren would feel better, especially given how long he'd let him sleep. Wincing at the pins and needles down his own legs, be moved to wrap an arm around Eren's waist "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Don't let go. My legs feel like jelly" "Probably because you fell asleep sitting up" "No... I don't know. I don't feel good" "Do you want to take a bath? Or have a shower?" "I think I want to sleep... just the thought of hot water is making me sick" Eren's body did feel clammy. Which wasn't great, especially with Hanji being gone "Why don't I help you wipe down at least? You'll feel better being clean" Eren hissed, his body growing tenser and tenser as Levi helped him into the bathroom "I'll grab the bucket from the bedroom, and give you a little privacy" "Thanks... I feel so fucking gross" This wasn't making telling Eren he had to leave any easier. Letting Eren take care of his business, Levi grabbed the bucket from beside the bed. As much as Eren hated it, it saved the trips to the bathroom when his fiancé was in too much pain to move. Carrying it over to the bathroom, he knocked lightly on the door "Brat, you still shitting?!" "Yeah. Come back later" Snorting, Levi left Eren to it. He didn't want to leave him. He really didn't. But if he could find proof of Zeke, he could clear Eren's name... hopefully before the baby was born, and Eren could give birth in peace like he deserved. Grabbing his bag from their wardrobe, he threw a few things in it "Levi" "Eren?!" "I want to be clean!" Levi snorted, abandoning his bag on the bed and heading for the bathroom. His fiancé had shuffled into the shower "I thought I left you on the toilet?" "That's a whole five minutes ago. Can you help me have a cold shower? Or just a wash down with cold water? It feels too hot" "You want a cold shower?" "I don't want a shower at all, but you're right. I'll feel better when I'm clean" "Of course you will. Do you want me to do your hair too?" "Mmm. Please... then can we cuddle?" "We can talk while we cuddle" "I don't know if I have much to say" Eren was going to have plenty to say once Levi dropped the bomb that he was leaving on him "It's alright. Let's get you clean" Eren hummed in appreciation, his teen leaning in to kiss him as Levi moved to help him strip off his shirt. The shower was brief, Eren barely able to remain standing as he started to cry from pain again, so Levi rushed to clean up him as gently and as thoroughly as he could. He'd have to tell Erwin where to stick it. He couldn't leave Eren like this. Leading his omega from the bathroom, Eren let out a gasp "Eren?!" "What... what's that?" Looking at the bag, Levi sighed. Eren wriggled from his hold. Putting his hands on his hips as he glared "That's what we need to talk about" "You're... you're leaving?! Is that why I can smell Erwin?! Is he making you leave?!" "Sit down, and we can talk" "I don't want to sit down. I want answers!" Levi rubbed at his face. Honesty. They'd just had huge argument over hiding things to protect each other "There was an attack on Hermina. The gate was destroyed and there were sightings of a shifter" "Zeke?!" "Possibly. Hanji has gone to check it out. They're worried Trost will be next" "I'm coming with you" "What?" "Zeke is my problem!" "You're in no condition to go" "Im fucking fine! I'm not letting you go anywhere without me" "It's only two days" "Two days! Two Days! Oh, that just makes everything ok then!" "You'll be..." "Coming with you! I'm not letting you face him alone! Not when I owe him for fucking shooting you!" "Eren..." "No! You're not leaving me here!" Glaring at him, Eren didn't seem to notice the small puddle on the floor between his legs "Eren, you need to calm down. Here, let's get you back into the bathroom" "What? Why?" "You've had an accident" "Don't try and change the topic. I think I'd know if I pissed myself" "You've literally got your feet either side of the puddle" "I... what?" Taking Eren's hand, he guided him to sit on their bed. His fiancé frowning severely "What's wrong?" "My arse is wet..." "Is it slick?" "I don't know. I mean, there was a little bit of pressure and then relief, but I thought it was slick" "Let me have a look" "I... Levi... what?" Eren's eyes went wide "You don't think... am I in labour?" Levi's own eyes widened, panic rushing up his throat "Let's just take a look" "Levi... I can't be in labour. It's too soon! You're leaving! What will I do? What do I do?" "Calm down. We don't know. How does your stomach feel? Is it sore? Are you having contractions?" "I don't know! Everything hurts!" Shit. Shit. Fuck. Where the fuck was Hanji!? What... what the fuck was he supposed to do?! "Levi... Levi, what do we do?!" "How the fuck should I know?! I've never done this!" "I..." Eren's lip quivered, making Levi feel like a shitty dick "Shit. That came out wrong. We need to see if it's slick" "What if it's not?" "Just calm down. Can you lay back for me?" "It hurts" "I need to examine you" Eren sniffled, Levi guiding him down because Eren tried to shoot back up as he laid back. "Levi?" Levi was verging on panic. The fluid coming from his omega was definitely not slick. Nor was it semen, or water or oil or anything like that. It... Levi blinked at it "I..." "Levi... what's happening? Is there blood?" "I think you're in labour" "No" "Yeah" "No" "Eren" "I can't be in labour! It's too soon" "Tell your body that" "I'm telling both of you!" "We need to prepare" "Prepare?" "You're in labour" Eren's opening was slightly open, more than it should be. Holy Rose. This... this was happening "I..." "Levi... I can't... I can't have the baby. Hanji isn't here! No ones here! What if something goes wrong?! What do I do?" "You've read the books. I don't know how give birth! I have a penis!" "I can't remember! You should have read them too!" "You're the doctor's kid! I never had to give birth! I wasn't expecting you to go into labour!" Levi took a breath, taking his fingers through his hair before remembering he glad fluid on his fingers. His heart was racing. How would Eren even give birth? Did he push it out his arse like a giant shit? Fuck. It was going to tear Eren in two. Would his brat shit himself? He didn't want to see that. What if the baby came out wrong?! What if it looked like a wolf? What if this miniature Lycan came out? What was he supposed to do? What did human babies even need when they were born? Or wolf babies?! Did wolves have belly buttons? There was an umbilical cord or something? How did you cut the thing? How much blood was there going to be? What if something went wrong? What if cut the cord, but hit the baby! Was his kid even going to like him? What if it didn't look like him? What if started screaming?! His voice trembled. His chest felt too tight "Look, for now, we should get you settled" How did he sound calm? He wanted to throw up. He was fucking shitting himself, almost literally "Settled?!" "You're not going to be pushing any time soon" Eren whimpered, drawing his legs up as much as he could "Eren?" "I think it's starting... the pain's spreading" "We should get you to the infirmary" "No! Please! No one can see" "Eren" "No! No..." Eren broke down, sobbing into his pillow "You need help. I don't know what to do! I've never delivered a baby before!" "Hanji's not here! No ones here! I can't do this!" "Well I can't push it out for you!" "You put it in there!" "It's a little late for returns!" "Take your wonder dick and fuck off!" "Don't blame me. You wanted me as much as I wanted you" "This is all fucking Hanji's fault. She said I couldn't get pregnant!" "You've had weeks to get used to this" "Really?! Weeks?! Well that just makes the idea of pushing a huge thing out of my arse all that much better" "That thing, is our baby" "It fucking hurts" "Then move. Try and get comfortable" "How the fuck am I supposed to get comfortable?" "I don't know" "Then fix it" "It doesn't work like that" "Then do something... I can't do this" "You can do this... you've read the books" "The books were fucking scary" "You're barely dilated, it's going to be a while" "You said that" "I... we should get a towel for this fluid" "Whatever... I'm not in labour" Stubborn brat. The contractions seemed to take forever to come and pass. Eren was laying on his side, whimpering every time would hit. His brat had finally found a position that worked for him. With his internal panic still spiralling, and no idea what he was supposed to actually do, Levi was stroking Eren's hair. His omega had wanted all their blankets, their bed now more blanket than anything else. The teen's face was hidden in one of his dirty shirts, because of something to do with the smell. Given he was panicking over Eren, every other single thought in his mind had disappeared, including the fact he was supposed to be leaving. When the door opened, even Levi was surprised by the snarl that came from his lips. He didn't want anyone in the room. He didn't want anyone touching Eren. He didn't want Eren paying attention to anyone "Levi, it's time to leave" Fucking Shitty Eyebrows "I'm not leaving" "I thought we were past this" "I'm not leaving" "We don't have time for this" "I'm not leaving Eren! He's in labour!" "He looks fine" "His water broke!" "That's convenient" Jumping off the bed, Levi stormed over to Erwin "Get the fuck out of here" "You're going on this mission!" "No I'm not!" "Yes you are!" "Eren is in labour!" "That's a low move, even for you" "Eren is in labour! Are your eyebrows so fucking thick that you don't see reality!" "Stop lying!" "I'm not lying! His fucking water broke while we were arguing over my leaving!" "I don't believe you!" Sidestepping him, Erwin stepped towards the bed. Grabbing the man's arm, he snarled "Don't you dare go near him!" "Someone needs to confirm this" "Are you fucking serious?! You're not touching him!" "Either you prove to me he's actually in labour, or you leave" "Why do I have to prove anything to you!? He's pregnant! It had to come out eventually!" "It's pretty convenient that he goes into labour the moment I tell you that you need to leave" "I told you he was in a fragile condition! Hanji fucking told you! He shouldn't have been moved from the house in the first place!" Eren moaned, rolling onto his back "Get out" "Eren, I understand you're in labour?" "Get out! I don't want you here" "Eren, come now. You know Levi can't stay. You don't need to fake being labour. It's only two days" Starting to sob, Eren covered his face "You need to leave" "Not without you" "He's in labour and you're treating him like he's lying" "How do you know he's not?" "His water broke! He's having contractions, and he's dilating. He's having this fucking baby" "I still haven't seen any evidence" "What do you want to see?! Do you want to look between my legs?! Is that it?!" Eren sounded hysterical, and livid "Get the fuck out of here!" "Levi..." "No. You heard Eren. He wants you gone" "I'm the Commanding Officer" "Who restrained us against our will!" "For your own safety" "I'm done with your shit. Get the fuck out before you lose your other arm" "Remember your place!" Levi snapped, his fist slamming into Erwin's jaw "Get the fuck out! He doesn't need this!" "So you're willing to risk Hanji's life?" "Don't you fucking turn this back on us. He's in labour. She would understand" "If he truly is in labour, you won't mind us moving him to the infirmary" "He can't move" "I'm sure you'll find a way, or we'll find one for you" Erwin gave zero fucks as he left them, but on the opposite side of the coin, Levi wanted to commit murder. Marching over, he pulled the door closed, before marching over to his desk and grabbing his chair. Propping the chair under the door handle, he growled in disgust, while Eren continued to whimper in distress. * Eren's labour was progressing ridiculously slowly. His fiancé had worn himself out, whimpering and crying over Erwin. It'd been nearly 12 hours, since Eren's water had broken, and his teen hadn't been able to get any real rest. He spent his time getting up and walking, leaning, panting, swearing, gasping and whispering all the curses under the sun. Erwin had tried to open the door, but the chair had held. Yelling up a storm, he'd scared the fuck out of Eren. His brat begging him to go, just to calm Erwin down. Instead, he'd dragged the desk in front of the door, then the wardrobe, effectively barricading them in. The windows were shut, the blinds drawn. The light in the room provided by a the two small lanterns he'd found in the bathroom cupboard... which he definitely hadn't left there. By the 28 hour mark, Eren was finally fitfully sleeping. His contractions were still five minutes apart, while he only looked slightly dilated. He didn't know if Eren was actually going to "open wider", given he was giving birth anally, but he knew there was no way their baby could possibly be birthed through such a small opening. Eren had also come back down with a fever. His body wracked with spasms which would wake him, and ruin any chance of getting real rest. He was so exhausted, he couldn't even find the energy to talk to him when he'd ask if he needed anything. At 36 hours, Levi was panicking. He'd spent every moment since Eren had gone into labour panicking, but now Eren was bleeding on top of everything else. He'd had to open the curtains to let a little light in. The lamp had hidden how sullen and drawn the teen's face was. Deep black bags hung under his eyes. When Levi had tried to move his legs to examine him, Eren hadn't had the strength to keep them spread. The towel beneath him was soaked a peach colour, with red hues dribbling into the mess. His brat was dying. That's what the smell in the room was telling him. They needed proper help, but no one was around. He didn't even know if Erwin was still around. Outside their room was silent, like they were the last people left alive. At the 42 hour mark, Eren was finally dilated enough to push, but too weak. The blood between his legs now a thick puddle, his breathing laboured gasps, and his body like ice. Holding his limp hand, Levi was positioned between Eren's legs. He'd tried to stretch Eren to open him more, but blood had gushed from him. He didn't know what to do or say. He couldn't find the words to fix this and Eren could to was whine softly "Eren... come on. You can do this. Just follow your instincts" He didn't know what else to say. He didn't even know if Eren was really hearing him "Brat. You need to push" This wasn't working. Shit... ok... Gathering Eren up, he forced the teen into a kneeling position, Eren weakly grabbing his arm while still slumped against him "Push. Come on... please" Changing position must have worked to bring Eren back to reality, the groan Eren gave made Levi's heart shoot up in hope "That's it! Come on, baby" He'd never called Eren "baby" before, and it kind of just slipped out. Keeping one hand between Eren's legs, with his fingers against Eren's bulging opening, he nuzzled into the teen "Another big push for me" The scream Eren gave sounded completely broken "That's it. You're doing so good" Slumping again as the scream ended Eren panted for breath "That's it. Keep going. You've got this" Eren's screams slowly grew silent as he struggled to birth their child. The smell of blood overwhelming him, leaving his stomach rolling as their child was forced into the world. He had no idea it took so long to bring birth a child, or rather to get the head and shoulders free. The moment they were, Eren fell back from him, leaving Levi to pull their baby into the world. A beautiful baby girl. He couldn't describe the pride he felt as her small hand reached out. She was... she was just incredible "Eren, it's a girl. It's a girl..." Grabbing the closest towel, he laid her down so he could gently dab the mess of birth from her face "Eren?" His happiness dropped. Reaching out, he shook Eren by the stomach "Eren?!" More stuff was coming out his brat. He didn't know what to do. Their little girl was here, but Eren wasn't waking! Shaking, he grabbed the strip of rag and tried the cord like Eren had told him to, before cutting it free. Eren... his mind kept repeating his lover's name. With their baby in his arms, Levi crawled up the bed, relieved to find Eren's eyes open, and his teen breathing. Though he really didn't look good "Eren, she's perfect. Can you see her?" Tilting her down for him to see, Eren whined "Yes. She's here. You did so well baby. So well. She's perfect" Eren let out a strangled gasp of pain, which Levi didn't understand. Forcing himself to lay their daughter down, he climbed from the bed, rounding it, and leaning down to examine Eren. Fluid was still coming from Eren's horribly torn opening. After birth covered his arse and thighs... but that wasn't the issue. Grabbing Eren, he rolled him onto his back, using a pillow to prop his hips up, as he tore away the messy towels and sheets "Fuck... ok, baby. You're ok. You're ok" The moment their second child was birthed, Levi's heart dropped. The cord was wrapped tightly around his neck, and he'd never stood a chance. He'd tried everything he could to make him breathe, even cutting the cord the moment he'd seen it around their child's neck. He rubbed at the small infant's chest, not willing to believe things could go so wrong. He didn't know if he felt a pulse, or if it was just his desperation, but he... he just couldn't do this. With their twins laying together, Levi tried to clean up Eren. He wasn't healing, and the blood wasn't stopping. Their bed was ruined from the blood. He needed help. He couldn't do this alone anymore. Half crazed, he tore the furniture from the door, howling a howl Eren would have been proud of his kicked at the shitty piece of wood. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't... sinking down beside the door, he sobbed. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Hanji was supposed to be here. Eren was supposed to give birthmark begin to heal immediately. Their son wasn't supposed to have his cord around his mouth. There wasn't supposed to be so much blood. Looking down at his hands, he couldn't stop himself from vomiting. He was literally covered in Eren's blood. He didn't even know if his lover was alive. He was so fucking scared. Scared and alone. Beside him, the door slowly opened. Someone screamed, and everything seemed to happen in a blur. One moment he was on the floor, and the next he was sitting in the chair he'd kicked across the room, holding his two children while Erwin talked at him. He couldn't make the words out. It felt like his head was underwater. He just felt so cold and sick. He couldn't bring himself to look at Eren. He couldn't bring himself to look over in case Eren wasn't... in case... another broken sob came from between his lips. He couldn't lose Eren. They hadn't decided on names. They hadn't planned for twins. Someone went to touch one of the twins, Levi growling in warning. He wanted them all to leave and to never come back. If Eren had been somewhere better, somewhere he felt safer, his birth might have been easier. His bright eyed brat wouldn't be... * Levi was sure he was dreaming. His bed had been remade, and between him and Eren, their twins slept. His love was still pale, pain still causing his lips to twitch, but he was alive and breathing.

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jayne-hecate-writer · 6 years ago

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Controversial thoughts

Some of you are going to find what I say here to be down right offensive, some of you are likely to be so angry as to scrap this post before you have even got to the end, but here goes... I really like The Last Jedi and so should you.

Before I explain my thinking, let me just point out that this article is likely to contain spoilers to the whole franchise, including the most recent release, Solo, so be warned before you proceed into this.

I have been watching the films again on DVD and I have noticed a few things that had not previously occurred to me and I am tying these in, along with things I have seen discussed on Youtube and in articles on other forms of social media.

Child Abuse and religious zealotry is everywhere:- My first thoughts are that the Star Wars universe does not like children very much. There are so many slaves and orphans among children in the Star Wars Universe, that it borders on being utterly despicable. Of all of the characters we encounter, the only ones shown on film to have loving and supportive family are the few various Royals. Even the gentle and loving Luke Skywalker has a tempestuous relationship with his Uncle Owen that borders on some seriously controlling behaviour. Later in the film, what family he has left are brutally murdered, leaving him with significant levels of survivor guilt and played nicely into the hands of an elderly religious fanatic, who drags him off to fight in a war. How old is Luke at this point? He is a teenager, a child in everything but name.

We then find out that Luke’s estranged father is a genocidal maniac, who also happens to be a religious fanatic and deeply opposed to the religion of the old man who it turns out, not only abandoned him to burn to death in lava in his own youth, but has stolen his children from him. When Luke wont change his allegiance, his father attempts to murder him. We get a final act of redemption but Luke still finds himself alone once again, having been indoctrinated into a religious cult that demands celibacy of its converts, the likes of which the Catholic church would be proud of and we all know how that ended for so many innocent children. May the force protect all of those children who were ripped away from their families so as to be indoctrinated into the Jedi faith. We will never know how many of them were abused by the Jedi faithful once they got there. We know that significant numbers of them are murdered by one of their own or even killed in battle as they learn to become child soldiers.

In Rogue One, we see more child soldiers, more abuse victims and more adults filled with trauma and damage. It is also a truly remarkable film in that every character we love is killed off, including the religious zealot who though completely blind, walks across an open battlefield chanting his faith.

Moving into episodes seven, eight and even nine (which at the time of writing is still to come out), we see similar patterns. In Rey, Finn and Kylo Ren we once again we see children that have been abused and failed by the adults around them. Rey is forced to work in slavery for starvation rations, after her alcoholic parents sold her for booze money. I dread to think how and why as a pretty young girl with no one to protect her, she learned to fight as well as she has.

Finn was abducted as an infant and forced to become a child soldier, a life that psychological studies here in our own universe has shown to have terrible consequences for the survivors that make it to adulthood. You can see written through out his arc, just how damaged he is by this experience.

Ben Solo was abandoned by his father Han, who was too damaged by his own childhood, to be able to communicate with his son. The boy was then sent away by his mother Leia, to be trained in the ways of a religious cult. Once there, the only family that this lonely and frightened young boy has, tried to murder him! Is it any wonder that he turned to the Dark Side and the abusive relationship and religious mania of Snoke? As Ben Solo becomes Kylo Ren, he is more and more eaten up inside by the religious cult that is Snoke’s dark faith and he is manipulated into becoming a murderer and despot.

When Rey joins the resistance, she is barely out of her childhood and she too becomes yet another child warrior and she is told that by an accident of birth she is destined to join the religious cult of the Jedi. Does she have a choice in this? It appears not to be the case.

When you look at her relationship with Finn, he finds in her the first person in his life to offer him any form of kindness away from the military and more out of his own traumatic experience, he begins to love his newly found friend, to the point that he tries to drag her away from danger. Of course the religious mania rises up once again and Kylo attempts to murder both, before Rey vanishes off around the galaxy to find a religious zealot to save them all from another bunch of religious maniacs.

The whole Star Wars universe is built on child slavery, child suffering and a huge amount of loneliness, which is heavily buried in religious zealotry. Tp me this is utterly heart breaking. With the release of Solo, we once again see more children kept in slavery for the labour they can provide to a crime syndicate. Han can only escape this terrible life by joining the army, which he later deserts when he realises that he is basically cannon fodder in a cause he does not believe in. He is captured and imprisoned for desertion, where he meets his soon to be lifelong friend, Chewbacca. Chewiewas is held in terrible, if not horrific conditions where he is forced to feed upon the bodies of other prisoners just to survive. His humanity or rather his sentience is ignored and we discover that his family are being used as slave labour. The whole Star Wars Universe is just awful and it is a wonder that any of them actually managed to survive childhood to become the damaged and traumatised adults that they later become.

So why is the Last Jedi so much better than people think?

Simple... Because in this story, a group of child abuse survivors try to make the universe better for those who come after them.

Despite Kylo Ren’s trained murderous impulses and traumatic child soldier life (that included having to murder his own father to win the approval of his mentor and reinforce his distance from his family), even he cannot bring himself to murder his own mother.

Poe Dameron learns that the myth of heroic death truly does not in reality exist. He grows as a person and learns that the lives of his friends and colleagues do actually matter, losing the bleak and destructive nihilism that endangers all around him.

Finn finds that he has inner resilience that he did not know was there and as he finds this, he helps yet another lonely adult, child abuse survivor. If you look at the sad life of Rose, you will see that she is the only survivor of her entire family and it was her older sister who basically raised her for the last few years of her childhood, as they clung together hoping not to be murdered. Finn and Rose find each other and in doing so begin to support each other, to overcome the psychological damage that they have suffered at the hands of others.

Rey finds inside her self the strength of will to let go the anger she feels for having been abandoned by her parents as a young child, although she replaces them in her life with religious zealotry which on reflection, may not be all that healthy.

The character of DJ points out that the continuous state of war is destroying both sides and the only winners are those businesses that sell weapons to both sides. He is also one of the very few people in the whole galaxy who is prepared to admit that he can be wrong about things. His enlightenment almost goes unregarded and yet at no time does he actively murder anyone. He is a peaceful man who is just trying to survive in a hateful galaxy.

As for Luke, he is the only truly remarkable character. Luke seeks and finally finds redemption as he forgives himself the terrible things that he has done in the name of his religion and in doing so, sacrifices himself so that his last remaining family and friends can escape being murdered. His last act was so noble and so brave, it truly showed him to be filled with love and compassion for all forms of life. He also tried to bring an end to the religious order that has caused so much strife through out the galaxy. Of them all, he is the only to understand the true legacy of the Jedi.

With this much pain and suffering going on, is it any wonder that Luke, Leia, Kylo, Rey, Finn, Rose and Poe all suffer with some degree of trauma induced sadness or mental health condition? The fact that any one of them can act with any degree of kindness towards another being, when the Galaxy is run by a series of evil despots and each of them has a significant history of loss and abuse, is frankly amazing.

Finn running away from the war to save his only true friend from an evil dictatorship that has sworn to murder them all is not only brave, but an act of love. Rey can see the harm done to Kylo and she thinks that her kindness and compassion can save him.

There is however one character that remains unrepentant, selfish and even racist. C3PO... He who cannot abide Jawas, he who sees Wookies as less than people. Yes, C3PO harbours, if you go through all of the movies, views that even fascist groups would find distasteful. At no point in the saga does C3PO seek to atone for his hateful words and deeds. If anything, he continues though out to be condescending towards all forms of organic life, blatantly derisive of his friends and rather quick to commit acts of cowardice and betrayal, the likes of which are only equalled by Captain Phasma. At the end of the movie, when Luke leaves the base to face down Kylo Ren, he turns to C3PO and does not actually speak to him. Why is this? I wonder if this is because Luke knows that C3PO is really a colossal golden bigot!

The back story of Phasma by the way is once again of childhood suffering and military service. She is yet another child victim in the Star Wars universe, it is all so painfully sad.

What makes The Last Jedi special is that at last, many of those responsible for terrible acts against children are finally given some degree of payback for the harm they have caused. At the very end, it leaves us with some hope that the children will rise up and bring about a new order of peace and an end to childhood suffering. To be honest, after all of the abuse, all of the suffering and all of the enforced child labour, it was nice to see some kids working out that they have the strength to rebel against those who would harm them.

The Last Jedi director Rian Johnson is among the first to acknowledge the suffering of children in the Star Wars universe. Even in the kids TV shows such as Rebels, the orphan Ezra is turned into a child soldier and religious zealot. The Clone Wars series saw many more child soldiers indoctrinated into the Jedi order and sent to die in battle. So well done Rian Johnson, I really enjoyed your movie.

By looking at social media though, it appears that I am alone among a sea of miserable voices.

Finally, my fellow Star Wars fans, when the stars of the movies we love so dearly are forced to to retreat from social media because of the bullying actions of a significant number of fans, maybe it is time that we took a long hard look at ourselves? After all, it is only a fucking movie and a fucking kids movie at that. Disney may not have the best record, but they are giving us something that would otherwise have died back in the eighties

#star wars #the last jedi #the force awakens #a new hope #star wars prequels #star wars sequels #bullying #child soldiers #Star Wars toxic fans #toxic fandom #I love Star Wars

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