#and this isn’t to say we shouldn’t hold ourselves accountable. we should. we should put in the work to learn and change appropriately. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 28

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - This Venerable One is A Little Confused

Elder Yuheng broke the rules and was punished. He might as well have sprouted wings. There was no need to wait until the next morning; Almost all the disciples of the sect had heard about it that same night.

Two hundred strikes; if he were replaced by any other ordinary person, they would probably be beaten to death. Even a cultivator isn't indestructible.

Xue Meng jumped up after learning about it: "What?! Master went to the Court of Discipline?"

"Young Master, go and talk to the Lord. He's already injured. How could he stand two hundred strikes?"

Xue Meng was going crazy: "My father? I can't. My father is still at the Snow Palace and hasn't returned yet. A carrier pigeon wouldn't even get there for another day. Why didn't you guys stop Shizun?"

Mo Ran and Shi Mei glanced at each other.

Stop Chu Wanning?

Who in this world could stop him?

"That's out of the question. I'm going to find him right now." Xue Meng roared and ran towards the Court of Discipline. Before he entered the courtyard, he saw a group of Elder Jielu's disciples blocking the entrance of the main hall, whispering about something.

"What are you standing there for? Move! Get out of my way!"

"Young Master!"

"Ah, the young master is here."

"Make way, the young master is here."

The disciples quickly separated and gave way to Xue Meng. The gate of the Qingtian Temple was open, and Chu Wanning was kneeling silently, his posture straight, his eyes closed. Elder Jielu, with an iron rod in hand, was reciting the laws of Life-Death Peak. Every time he finished reciting one, the iron rod slammed against Chu Wanning's back.

"The ninety-first law of this sect: do not indiscriminately hurt the innocent, and do not use cultivation against a mortal. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

"The ninety-second law of this sect; do not act arbitrarily, do not act selfishly. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

Elder Jielu didn't dare hold back and had to execute the punishment as he would with any other disciple. After more than ninety sticks came down, Chu Wanning's white robes were stained with blood.

Xue Meng respected Chu Wanning the most. When he saw this, his eyes went bloodshot, and he shouted: "Shizun!"

Chu Wanning ignored him. His eyes were still closed and he frowned slightly.

Elder Jielu glanced at the door and muttered: "Elder Yuheng, the young master is here."

"I'm not deaf, I heard him." Blood dripped out of the corners of Chu Wanning's mouth, but he didn't raise his eyes. "He's a noisy child, don't worry about it."

Elder Jielu sighed. ". . .Yuheng, why are you doing this?"

"Who is the one that is always punishing my disciples for being disobedient?" Chu Wanning said indifferently. "If I'm not punished today according to the law, how will I be able to face my disciples in the future?"

". . ."

"Carry on."

"Hah. . ." Elder Jielu looked at his pale, slender neck protruding from the edge of the wide collar that hung gently like thin smoke and asked: "Then can I at least make them lighter?"

". . . This is nothing more than deception." Chu Wanning said. "Don't worry. It's only two hundred strikes, I can bear it."

"Elder Yuheng. . ."

"Jielu, if you don't have anything more to say, carry on."

The iron rod finally fell again.

Xue Meng's voice was frantic: "Elder Jielu! Are you not going to fucking stop? Do you know the situation you've put me in? That's my shizun you're beating!!! My shizun!!!"

Elder Jielu had no choice but to bite his tongue and pretend he didn't hear him.

Xue Meng was about to explode: "Can't you hear me, old man? I'm ordering you to stop! You - If you dare hit him again, I'll, I'll, I'll—"

He thought for a while and couldn’t come up with anything to say. After all, he was only a fifteen-year-old boy. Regardless of the fact that he was "the proud boy of heaven," his strength and qualifications are far less than those of the elders. He could only blush and throw out an outrageous claim --

"I'll tell my father!!!"

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

Chu Wanning let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Ninety-seven strikes. Ninety-eight strikes. Ninety-nine strikes. One hundred sticks. . .

His clothes were torn and blood was glaringly seeping out.

Xue Meng couldn't hold back anymore. His eyes were red with anxiety, and he was about to recklessly rush in, but Chu Wanning suddenly opened his eyes. He waved his hand and a barrier instantly lowered, blocking the entrance. Xue Meng bounced back a few steps, almost falling to the ground.

Chu Wanning coughed up blood. He shifted his glare, narrowing his fierce phoenix eyes.

"Disgraceful! Leave!"

"Shizun!"

Chu Wanning sternly said: "Since when can the Young Master of Life-Death Peak order an Elder to bend the law for his own personal gain? Leave now!"

Xue Meng stared at him. His eyes widened and it looked like little beads of water appeared in them.

Next to him, Mo Ran stroked his chin, and the corner of his mouth was still playfully curled upwards: "Oh, that's not good. Little phoenix is going to cry."

Hearing these words, Xue Meng harshly turned his head and fiercely glared at Mo Ran. His watery eyes were red, but he kept any tears from rolling down.

He had no more objections and no more talk back.

He climbed up from the ground with a single movement. He lowered his head, grit his teeth and wiped the dust off his body. Then he knelt down facing the Qingtian Temple: "Shizun, I know my mistake."

Chu Wanning was still being tortured by an iron rod. His straight posture never wavered, but his face was pale, and his forehead was coated with a fine layer of cold sweat.

Xue Meng stubbornly said: "But I'm not leaving. I'll accompany Shizun."

He said while kneeling.

Mo Ran rolled his eyes towards the sky. Xue Meng, courtesy name Xue Ziming, the proud son of heaven, was only ever humble in front of Chu Wanning. In front of others, he was a phoenix, and in front of their shizun, he became a quail. If he wasn't positive that Xue Meng didn't like men, Mo Ran would start to suspect that this guy was probably in love with Chu Wanning, so much so that he would throw himself in front of death itself for him. If Shizun slapped his left cheek, then this little bitchy quail would humbly slap his right cheek.

Real convincing.

Like an obedient little puppy.

Although he despised him in his heart, he couldn't understand why he was feeling somewhat upset. Mo Ran looked at Xue Meng. The more he looked at him, the more uncomfortable he got and he felt that he could not let him show his loyalty alone.

Chu Wanning already didn't like him. If Xue Meng made such a fuss, does that mean Chu Wanning wouldn't be as harsh with him in the future?

So he simply went over and knelt beside Xue Meng.

"I'll also accompany Shizun."

Of course, Shi Mei also knelt down, and the three disciples all knelt and waited outside. When disciples under the other elders heard the circulating rumours, they all hurried to the Court of Discipline to watch the excitement.

"Oh my god, why is it Elder Yuheng. . ."

"I heard he went into a rage and beat a civilian."

"Ah! He's that cruel?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. If Elder Yuheng hears you, he won't hesitate to whip you!"

Others: "Why is the young master kneeling?"

"Young Master Mo is also kneeling. . ."

Mo Ran was handsome and he had a way with words. He didn't know how many female cultivators he'd earned goodwill with over the years, but right now, there were several people who couldn't help but feel pity for him and whisper: "I feel so sorry for Young Master Mo. What should I do? Should we intervene?"

"We shouldn't concern ourselves with their shizun - disciple issues. Do it if you dare, I'm not that brave. Do you remember the senior sister who was whipped hundreds of times by Elder Yuheng..."

". . ."

The two hundred strikes were completed.

The barrier was finally removed.

Xue Meng quickly got up from the ground. He ran into Qingtian Temple and approached the scene. Seeing Chu Wanning's appearance, he cried out. He turned his head and grabbed Elder Jielu's collar. "You're dead, old man! Couldn't you have hit him a little lighter!!!"

"Xue Ziming." Chu Wanning closed his eyes, his blood-stained lips moving, and his hoarse voice carried a hidden deterrent.

". . ."

Xue Meng's knuckles creaked. He violently pushed Elder Jielu away, letting him go. This was when Mo Ran came in. He was still smiling, thinking that Elder Jielu must have taken into account Chu Wanning's status and wouldn't deal heavy blows. But looking down at Chu Wanning's injury, the smile on his face suddenly fell.

Didn't Chu Wanning tell Elder Jielu that he had a shoulder injury?!

The two hundred strikes had all more or less slashed across the older wound on his shoulder.

New wounds overlapped old wounds.

Chu Wanning, you. . .

Are you insane?!

His pupils shrank sharply, and a strong resentment surged into his heart.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was resenting, or what he was so annoyed about. He only knew that he felt a blazing fire in his gut, torching through all his organs. He was used to torturing Chu Wanning to death himself, crushing his self-esteem and tarnishing his purity. Mo Ran couldn't stand seeing injuries on Chu Wanning that were made by someone else!

He could move on from his past memories because Mo Ran subconsciously felt that this person was his. This person, whether dead or alive, hated or hated, was all.

He originally didn't care about Chu Wanning being punished because he thought that, since Chu Wanning was an elder, the two hundred strikes would hardly be considered a severe punishment.

At the very least, they would avoid the fresh wound on his shoulder.

But Chu Wanning didn't say anything! He didn't even mention it! What was this lunatic so stubborn? Why did he put up with this? What point did he so stupidly and stubbornly need to prove?!?

His mind was in turmoil. Mo Ran raised his hand to help him, but Xue Meng was already one step ahead of him. He took Chu Wanning in his arms and helped him up.

". . ." Mo Ran's hand hung in the air, and after a while, he slowly lowered it again.

He watched Xue Meng help Chu Wanning walk away, not knowing the feeling that was stirring in his heart.

He wanted to catch up with them, but he wasn't willing to move.

What happened in his past life was all in the past.

Nowadays, Chu Wanning was just his shizun.

Any chaotic, hateful, or intimate entanglement hadn't happened between them yet.

He shouldn't have such thoughts. Whether Chu Wanning was beaten by someone, supported by someone, loved someone, or was even killed by someone, it had nothing to do with him.

Shi Mei came to him: "Come on, let's join the young master and go take a look."

"I'm not going. It's enough having Xue Meng there. I wouldn't help much. Any more people would just create chaos." Mo Ran's face remained unchanged, but his heart was a bit confused.

He really didn't understand what he was feeling right now. What was this feeling called?

Was it hatred?

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan #english translation #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei

201 notes · View notes

sevikellsss · 3 years ago

Text

Toxicity in fandom.

DISCLAIMER: This is a personal post but feel free to reblog. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BLOCK THOSE COMMENTING ON THIS POST WITH HOSTILITY. IF YOU HAVE FEEDBACK COME CORRECT

I have honestly had it up to HEREEEEEE!

I’m absolutely through with the rampant harassment, accusations and bullying I see online these days. I thought leaving fandom twitter was a solution to this, and that I would finally stop seeing people be harassed, shamed, and called horrible names for things that shouldn’t be as big of an issue as people make them out to be, but in actual fact, I’ve come to realise that being on tumblr, TikTok and Instagram is just the same.

I’ve noticed people actively talk and seek out things that make them uncomfortable, and instead of curating their own online experience and talking to close mutuals about it or dm’ing the person they have an issue with in a calm manner, they make call out posts, harass others, let other people harass them, tell everyone to block them. And I am SICK. OF. IT!

This has become a normal thing on socials and it’s absolutely not normal.

It’s quite frankly, incredibly disturbing that it’s become so common and people actually get praised for “holding people accountable” or “calling it out” which really means punishment and condemnation. Personal arguments or criticisms (even valid ones) shouldn’t be done with an audience. I understand that some things do need to be condemned, but publicly shaming and letting everyone know what they did is so psychologically damaging and it only makes things worse.

Some things, if it truly puts people in danger, do need to be posted about, especially in regards to security, hate crimes (although there tends to be exaggeration with this sometimes), grooming and lying about yourself online. But in most cases, it’s about people’s feelings and not about whether it could really harm people. Feelings are important, and if something has made you uncomfortable and has upset you, that’s valid, and you can express it. But the way to do it is NOT by hurting someone else.

Something that’s been annoying me in the atla/tlok fandom is how so many people generalise people to make them the scapegoat for the toxicity, especially when someone has done something in regards to race. I’ve noticed the constant influx of “white/cis people are the reason why POC(or even people in general) are leaving the fandom”. And to me, these posts do NOT solve the issue. They actually alienate and make ALL people of that community feel guilty for things they cannot change.

No one should feel guilty or wrong for just existing. That’s the point of solving the worlds ills isn’t it? That people feel and are treated as if they matter.

As a black person, I get the criticisms of some racism that goes on in this fandom in particular. Some of them are valid, however, some of them aren’t and are honestly just used to start shit. I’ve noticed that a lot of the time it’s the latter, and not actual cases of racism.

I agree that sometimes, there are white people that speak over POC in the fandom, and it is frustrating, especially when what’s being spoken about isn’t offensive. I also agree that sometimes, the claims of racist behaviour do need to be spoken about. But they need to be spoken about in the right way. Not in witch hunts and callouts.

If we are going to hold people to account, we need to hold ourselves to account as well. Self accountability is key.

If you have a criticism of what someone is doing you talk to them as if they have freaking feelings. You don’t chastise them and say “this is racist take this down or else” or “this is so unacceptable you are a horrible person”. Firstly, the first thing is a threat. Saying “or else” means you’ll do something if they don’t do what you want. And secondly, the second thing is a massive attack on someone’s character. Whether you think they are bad or not, you don’t respond to negativity with more negativity.

You also don’t resort to gate keeping either by saying “white people shouldn’t write fanfic for something that isn’t about them” or “you can’t draw this”. All of the things mentioned are things I’ve seen people say. That IS NOT the way to go about this. Also, just because something has minorities in it doesn’t mean that those who aren’t minorities can’t enjoy that thing, or that they can’t relate to characters. There’s more to these characters than their race and ethnicity (although representation is important).

Another thing that’s been really frustrating in fandoms in general is the way people react to the smallest things in fandoms. Especially within the resident evil fan base. Bekka Prewitt, the voice actress for Bela Dimitrescu was harassed for days on end because she missed a comment on a livestream saying “say gay rights”. They used that to say she’s homophobic.

In addition to this, there’s been a sudden backlash on a cosplayer, because she said she headcanons Lady Dimitrescu as straight. People piled onto her and said she was erasing her queerness, despite the fact that there was no confirmation of Lady Dimitrescu’s sexuality. I know people have said that because Maggie headcanons her as LGBT, that’s confirmation, but I just don’t see it that way.

To me, something is only canonised by the creators, so that would mean CAPCOM and the team. If there isn’t an official statement or a character profile by CAPCOM saying that she’s LGBT, in my books, people’s imaginations can go where they want with these characters.

It’s as if people are gatekeeping how others view characters now because they want representation so much. I love Lady D, and I personally HC her as a lesbian, but if someone doesn’t think that way I don’t feel hurt by that because I recognise that not everyone sees characters the same ways I do. And im saying this as a member of the LGBT community.

What annoyed me the most, is that when the cosplayer put out a statement apologising, people accused her of gaslighting because she said she wasn’t trying to hurt anybody and because she cried.

In fandoms, the usage of buzzwords like “gaslighting”, “manipulation”, “toxic”, “fascist” etc, are constantly weaponised by people doing the exact thing that they are accusing the other person of. One of the things I’ve noticed is that people who make these accusatory statements are THE most manipulative and toxic people, and THEY gaslight others without even realising it. This is the type of impulsivity and lapse in judgment that is ruining fandoms.

It’s as if people have turned fandom into activism.

For me, and probably many others, fandom is supposed to be an escapism from the horrors, the ills and the constant displays activism in the world. While activism is a good thing when done right, it shouldn’t be constantly displayed through something that’s supposed to help us forget. I get that in fandoms, especially in tv shows and movies created these days, it discusses important themes relevant to what’s going on in the world and in the fictional world explored.

But just because that’s the case, does not mean that projecting every current issue onto people’s opinions in fandom is a healthy way of dealing with that. It’s got to the point where people are full blown drown off of platforms and doxed because they don’t have the same ship, or the same opinions about well received characters, or about the themes in general because they’ve attached current issues onto these things too much.

What’s sad is that because of all of the things I’ve stated, whenever there is an issue that should be talked about posted by anyone, either mutuals or activism pages, I either roll my eyes or I literally feel nothing, because in my experience it’s all been performative and it’s only popular human rights issues that are being talked about. I want to care again. But, because of everything I’ve observed and gone through it’s hard for me now.

I didn’t come into fandom to be afraid of losing my livelihood, my sanity, and even friends that I have grown to love. All of these things I have observed haven’t made me feel safe. It’s made me stop trusting people, it’s made me more cautious, it’s even made me less tolerant somewhat.

I don’t want anyone else in fandom feeling this way, I think we need to do better in approaching issues in fandoms, and we need to recognise when there’s no issue at all, so people can enjoy content however they wish.

#toxic fandom #fandom salt #it’s getting worse #tlok fandom salt #atla fandom salt #resident evil fandom salt

70 notes · View notes

ladywhistleclown · 4 years ago

Text

Benedict Bridgerton x M!Reader: Valentines Fools

Summary: Benedict does something special. Word Count: 3334 A/N: I read this post about Valentines in Regency England, and found it so interesting that I had to write about it. of course, I made it gay. duh. Also, I wrote the ‘poem’ later myself, but its inspired by many LGBT poets/writers from history who wrote poems like it, about hope for future LGBT folks, just very simplified. This is some of my best work, and I don’t want it to get snubbed just because its not f/m, so like, give it a chance! MLM fic is also fun :) Enjoy! Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Giggly men doing giggly men things (being stupid) -- Valentines Day, in your mind, was a rather dreadful event. Ladies and Lords spent days agonizing over hand-made letters, writing disgusting poetry about love, or rejection. You had never partaken in the act, partly because you had never had anyone to write to, and partly because even if you had, you had neither the patience nor skill to craft such detailed notes of devotion. You thought it best to leave such things to artists and ladies, of which you were neither. This year was only slightly different. After having met Benedict at Lord Granville's, striking up conversations about art, women, and your places in society, you had developed a rather strange relationship, one that you would almost call a courtship, if it wasn’t so clearly an impossibility. Benedict simply wanted to explore something new, something outside the realm of society and expectations, and you, lovesick fool that you were, happily obliged him. It was nothing more than attraction and curiosity. Second son or not, Benedict could never marry a man. Even if he wanted to.

At least you could drown yourself in booze at Lord Granville's. He was a good listener, with even better advice, and you knew that he understood exactly your pain. It was here you found yourself, a day before Valentines, throwing down your sixth beer and lamenting to Granville, who sat patiently by your side. “Society is not kind to those like us.” You sighed, running the tip of your index finger along the outer edge of your glass, staring blankly at it, as though if you drank enough, the answers would appear in the liquor. “No, it isn’t. But we are kind to each other, and ourselves.” He replied, looking over you with pity. You had never been much of a drinker, not for as long as Granville had known you, but your infatuation with Benedict had brought it out in you, and he wondered if it was a mistake to invite the Bridgerton boy here, if it caused an old friend to suffer in a way that was very familiar and personal to him. He knew the pain of impossible love too well, and saw himself reflected in your morose state. “Of course. You’re too kind to me, Granville. I talk your ear off about my foolish troubles with Bridgerton, but never think to ask of yours.” “I am not nearly as troubled as you are. And as I said, we must look out for each other, as the ton certainly will not.” he lifted up his own drink, pausing just before it reached his lips to glance at you, “Perhaps I should dis-invite Bridgerton from future events?” “Oh hell, Granville, don’t torture the man on my account. He enjoys the art and the company, and besides that, I’d rather him here than at some brothel.” you grimaced as soon as the words left your mouth, an embarrassing slip revealing just how deeply attached you were. “Apologies. The alcohol has loosened my tongue.” “No bother. I understand that jealousy quite well.” Granville said, his voice still light and amused, and you couldn't help but laugh as he took a sip, winking at you before putting his glass down. “What jealousy?” Came a loud voice from directly behind you. You jumped, Granville almost knocking his drink over in his shock. Of course, he would arrive now, when you were drunk and foolish. You breathed out quickly, praying that you would say nothing incriminating before turning to face Benedict. He looked confused, glancing from Granville's face to yours, before reiterating, “What jealousy, Granville?” “Merely of other artists. I’m sure you know it too.” He recovered, taking another drink before gesturing to the table, “Care to join us?” Benedict sat in the chair closest to you, and you shot Granville a look of pure spite. In your drunken haze, everything seemed too much. His voice was too smooth, his smile too large, and the way he draped an arm across your chair, caging you in, was entirely too casual. You promised to whatever God was listening that you would slaughter Granville for this. “Of course I do. You know better than anyone.” He agreed, sliding easily into the conversation. You remained silent, not trusting yourself in your inebriation to respond beyond a simple hum of agreement or a grunt of displeasure. If you allowed yourself to speak freely, no doubt you would be weeping in Benedict's arms like a little girl within minutes. “What do you think?” You started, retreating from your thoughts to find both Benedict and Granville looking at you. Benedict’s eyes shone with thinly veiled concern, tilting his head and gently shaking you by the shoulder, while Granville simply smiled in amusement. “I..was lost in thought. My apologies.” You said quickly, waving Benedict’s hands away and sitting up completely. You were drunker than you thought, and briefly you wondered if you would even be able to make it to your carriage without help. You figured if you couldn’t, you would force Granville to escort you. He certainly owed you, after pulling this little stunt. “You’re wasted. Perhaps you should head home.” Benedict said gently. You huffed, shaking your head. “Don’t concern yourself with me, I can take care of myself. Now. My opinion on what, exactly?” “Valentines,” Granville supplied, glancing into his empty cup, “we were talking about all the effort that goes into such cards and letters. Artistry, in a way. What do you think of it?” “I find the holiday wholly unnecessary. And it takes far too much time to make such delicate things. A canvas is much more secure.” you huffed. Benedict stiffened beside you, although in your semi-consciousness, you barely noticed, your eyes fluttering between shut and open. “So you wouldn’t make any?” Benedict asked. “No.” “Would you receive them?” “I suppose it would be rude to deny such labors of love. But I have never received one, and I doubt I will this year. Ladies don’t send cards to men like me.” you shrugged, drooping over the table. The longer you sat, the harder it was to hold yourself up. If you passed out, it would be a good escape from such intimate topics with Benedict, so you allowed yourself to slump on the table, sighing. “Alright, that's enough. I’ll help you home.” Benedict declared, standing up and taking you by the arm, heaving you up. You groaned in protest, but didn’t fight as he slung your arm over his shoulder and half dragged you away from the table, Granville following behind. “Apologies, Bridgerton. Next time I won’t allow him to indulge quite so much. You may end up getting more than 10 minutes with him that way.” He said cheerily. “I’m sober enough to know when I’m being mocked, Granville.” you opened your bleary eyes to glare at him, finding his eyes twinkling with amusement. He patted your shoulder. “It’s no trouble. I was about to head home, anyway.” Is all Benedict said as he helped you into the carriage, climbing in after you and seating himself on the same bench. Granville waved you both off as Benedict rapped his knuckles on the carriage, directing your footman to take you home. “Now you have me alone and vulnerable. Not very gentlemanly of you, Bridgerton. What would the ton think?” you teased, leaning lazily against the side of the carriage, away from him. You hoped it was subtle, that he thought you were just drunk and loose and tired. You couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out just how weak you were for him. Then he would leave, and you would be crushed. “They would think nothing, because we’re men.” He pointed out, leaning closer to you. You hummed, acknowledging his words, but didn’t reply beyond that. It was only then that you realized how precarious a situation you were in. Drunk, alone, with a man you loved, who seemed to be moving closer and closer by the minute, although maybe you were imagining that part. Anything was possible when you were this drunk. “They would be wrong, though.” Benedict finished softly. He reached over, brushing his fingers along your jaw, moving downward to loosen your cravat. You sighed, tilting your head back to allow him easier access, cursing yourself but unable to shove him away. You were such a fool. “Are you planning something?” You asked. He finally managed to pull your cravat away, revealing your neck to him. He laughed at your question. “With you this drunk? No. I only wanted you to be more comfortable.” He tossed the cloth onto the other bench, leaning safely away from you to stare out the window after. While you were partly disappointed, you were mostly relieved. You wouldn’t have been able to resist, and only would have brought yourself more shame and confusion in regards to him. But Benedict was a good man, and he would never take advantage of you in your current state. Your heart squeezed. Too good of a man. “I’m sorry to be such a burden tonight.” you blurted suddenly. Benedict looked at you, his head whipping away from the window so quickly it almost made you dizzy. “I shouldn’t have drank so much. It was foolish.” “You’re never a burden to me.” He said, his voice soft and indignant, almost as if he was offended by the mere idea that you had inconvenienced him. “You shouldn’t have to chaperone me home like a weak debutante.” “I’d rather you than a debutante. Trust me.” You chuckled, shaking your head and glancing out the carriage window. You could see the square, and your home, fast approaching. It appeared as though your time with Benedict was over for tonight. Relieved and downtrodden, you sat up and attempted to right your swirling vision as the carriage came to a stop. Benedict stood, helping you up and out of the carriage. After explaining the situation to your housekeeper, he hauled you all the way into your home and bedroom, even being kind enough to help you out of your boots as you lay back in your bed, arm over your eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. “I’ll be going, then.” He said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands together. You lifted your arm, making certain you weren’t going to puke before crooking one finger, beckoning him closer. “Come here.” You breathed. He obeyed, moving dutifully to your side, remaining silent despite the question in his eyes. You sat up slowly, ignoring your dizziness. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him closer. Benedict, realizing what you were after, leaned down and forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You flopped back into your bed after he pulled away, grinning, although you couldn’t see it, having already rolled over and buried your face in the covers. “Goodnight. I hope you enjoy tomorrow.” He said ominously, the clicking of his heels against the marble floor the only indication you had that he had left. Before you could even think of the meaning of his strange farewell, you were dragged into rest. -- The first thing you registered after waking was the pounding behind your eyes. Moaning in pain, you lifted your arm over your face, blocking out the light that your butler had let in through the curtains. “My apologies, My Lord. Should we have a cure made?” He asked politely, noticing your haggard state. “Quickly.” You begged. He nodded, bowing before swiftly leaving the room to procure you a bit of relief. Sitting up, you turned away from the windows completely, opting to try and find your balance. After a moment, you were able to make your way to your wardrobe, pulling on your breeches and doublet. Today you had no need to dress formally. Valentines was a day you dedicated to staying completely shuttered away from the rest of the ton, tending to your estate and business ventures. It was easier than being bombarded with reminders of love, and much easier than running into any Bridgerton, although one, of course, you wanted to avoid above all else. It would only pain you to see him giving or receiving such intimate letters, especially with the women of the ton. Once your butler had delivered your cure, and you had thrown down the slimy, disgusting mixture, you were feeling much improved. You made your way to your study, smiling at your maids as they bowed before rushing off, no doubt in a hurry to finish their work and make off with their sweethearts for the day. You felt a twinge of jealousy, smiling sadly as you opened the door to your study. Oh. In your study sat piles and piles of cards, all handmade, some gilded with gold while others were trimmed with lace. You picked one up, in awe at its intricate gold-foil flowers, embossed on the front and lined with sharp swirls and embellishments, all clearly hand done with a calligraphy pen. You opened the card. The script inside was as lovely as the rest of the card, although it was the words that brought tears to your eyes. I sit and I look into your face And I see those before us, Who have loved as we do, And I see those after, And I pray that our impossibility Will become their reality. Yours. You choked on a sob, quickly closing the card and setting it down. The last thing you wanted was to ruin something so perfect with tears. It was not signed, and it didn’t have to be for you to know. Benedict. You looked around the room. There were at least 3 large piles of cards, enough to last an entire year, all handmade and intricate. You wondered how long this had taken him. It would take you days just to read them all. Surely, your servants thought you were either the biggest rake in the ton, with all these notes. You couldn’t care less. You gathered them all, handling them as gently as you would glass, slipping them into your desk cabinet and locking it. They were yours, no one else's. Benedict's words were just for you. Dazed, you leaned back into your office chair, holding the first card, running your fingers over the edges and rereading the lines over and over. It wasn't quite a poem, nor a letter, but a sentiment. A dream, a wish. You would be lying if you said that it wasn’t your dream too. A future where love like yours would be special, not sinful. Love. You jolted. And then laughed. How could you ever have doubted him? Surely, it was only love that would drive him to do this. Only love that would have him escort you home, make sure you were safe and comfortable. That would make him sit for what must have been weeks, if not months, working tirelessly on card after card just to take advantage of the one day where letters between unmarried men and women could be sent freely. Of course, he did so for a cover. But was that not also love? He wanted to protect you from ire, from harm, and so he delivered all the letters he felt he couldn’t today, just to keep from drawing unwanted eyes. Crying and laughing all at once, you pressed the note to your chest. How had you doubted his love for a second? His devotion? You truly were a fool, although not in the way you had expected. It took you half an hour to calm yourself, and by that time, your headache was back and worse than before, thanks to your emotional outburst. But another thing was back, too. Your butler, standing in the doorway with an impassive look on his face, glancing about the room, no doubt looking for the heaps of cards the servants had dropped off. “Do you know what card came from which maiden?” You asked, holding up the first card. It was the only card you had yet to put away, and though you were loathe to show it to him, you thought you should make it try and seem as though you had no idea who they had come from. “The cards were delivered mysteriously early this morning, My Lord. No names, no signatures.” “I see. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. None of them will be receiving a response.” You laughed, setting the card down. “What is it?” “A visitor, sir. The Second Bridgerton. Says he has something to discuss with you, about Lord Granville's gathering last night.” Your heart stuttered. “Send him up. No doubt he wants me to apologize for making such an ass of myself last night.” You joked, and he smiled back, giving a quick nod before rushing off to fetch Benedict. You quickly tucked the last letter into your desk drawer, pulling out a decanter of whiskey and pouring yourself a small glass. “No better cure for a hangover than more drink, right?” Benedict stepped into your study, shutting the door behind him even as he teased you. You laughed, pouring him a glass as well. He took it gratefully, sitting down in the chair across from yours, the desk between you two. “You may mock me if you wish, Benedict, but I am feeling positively delightful.” you said dramatically, lifting your cup in cheers. Benedict touched his glass to yours, and you took a sip. He did not. “Would that have anything to do with any deliveries?” He questioned, a secretive smile spreading across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” “That’s why I asked.” You snorted, shaking your head quickly. “It would, if you must know.” Dropping all pretenses, he leaned forward, smiling even brighter now. “So you’ve got them. Do you like them?” “Of course I do,” you breathed, leaning in as well, dropping your voice to a whisper, “how long did they take you? They’re beautiful. True artistry.” “Much too long, as you said last night. But they were worth it, if you like them.” You nodded once. Smiling, he brought one hand to rest on your desk, palm up and spread open. You took it, intertwining your fingers. “Do you truly...love me? In that way?” you asked nervously, avoiding his gaze in favor of staring at your two hands. “No, I spent hours of my precious time making hand crafted love letters for a man I consider a friend.” He rolled his eyes. “If anyone would do such a thing, it would be you, Benedict.” “Certainly not. It would be Colin.” You laughed, and he grinned. Standing, he quickly rounded your desk and pulled you up by your still connected hands, pulling you against him and kissing you firmly. It was sudden, but not unpleasant, and you wrapped your arms around him, carding your fingers through his hair before resting your hands on the nape of his neck. After a long moment, he pulled away, eyes shining mischievously. “I do love you.” “And I you.” you said quickly, desperate to reciprocate. You had spent so long convinced that Benedict only saw you as good fun, that the revelation of love had left you reeling. But you would be damned if you passed up this opportunity to tell him of the affections you had kept secret since your first meeting. In response, he kissed your jaw once before pulling away, still smirking. “But you taste of garlic and egg. You truly should not have indulged so much. Now I can’t kiss you.” Groaning, you turned away from him, clamping your lips shut even as he wraps his arms around your middle, pressing kisses to your neck and cheek lovingly, cooing affections like a lovesick fool. You smiled at that passing thought, leaning into Benedict and returning his whispers in kind, leading him with purpose to your bed chamber. Perhaps you were both lovesick fools. You could live with that.

#benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #netflix #male reader #mlm fanfic #mlm #x reader #mine #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction

245 notes · View notes

ericmun · 4 years ago

Text

210314 Shinhwa’s Eric and Dongwan’s Instagram Updates

Just a quick note as what might transpire this. There have been posts from fans pressuring about the lack of Shinhwa activities and Eric got the flak usual. One post in particular on the day before (Saturday night) that tagged all the members that probably why this happened, why he feels he’s been treated unfairly, as well as explaining why he had to go on SNS.

The clash between Eric and Dongwan is nothing new. It is mostly personality differences and ways of doing things. We are posting this because everyone has the right to understand what’s going on with a full and accurate translation (as accurate as possible) of how things went. Thanks so much 6crystalis for these long translation.

Eric’s 1st post:

I was keeping track quietly, but the problem is that the gap between internal affairs compared to external perception is too big, and so, there is constant conflict between the two. I thought if just leave it, it would slowly disappear by itself. Instead, the difference became so big, these was nowhere left to take a stand. I always thought that when it came to problems, the right thing to do was to dig it up by its roots and untangle it bit by bit; you shouldn't try to cover it up and pretend nothing happened. But in the end, I chose to listen to the opinions of different people and left it alone. One guy who always put group activities before all other work. Another guy who puts certain emphasis on solo activities, but during this period is emphasizing on Shinhwa activities. Although, it caused problems for group communication and schedules, but to fans, he is an intimate and gentle guy. Two people with different thought processes, so I've decided I need to go find and understand each person's differences. But everyone is too one-sided on who they are listening to, to the point that only support the one saying nice words to them, and cursing the condition of the person who is quietly working hard for the group. Isn't that too much? If the problem only stopped at supporting VS not supporting, it doesn't matter, but is it really necessary to go to the extremes of praising one side to high heavens and making personal attacks on the other? Right now, it's not 50/50, it's more than 90% of the people who think the latter's style is correct. Then that means everything I had been doing during that period is wrong. Just let me switch places with the later then, it's easy. But, can you put on some restraint, the group of people on DC? Aren't you tired? Stop gathering in groups in places I'm absent and discussing things that aren't set? If you want to talk about those things, then say it when you come join the group meeting. Didn't I already ask you guys (the members) 3 weeks ago about setting the schedule? If you actually want to resolve this, then let's talk. I have no way of contacting you, so I'll tag you, and I will also let Andy know. You'll invite me to tomorrow's live right? I'll be there.

Note: Eric tagged Dongwan for this post as seen in the photo

Source: muneric Translation: 6rystalis

Eric’s 2nd post:

Because I was afraid of causing conflict, I thought just leaving it would make it disappear, so I chose to say pretty words filled with hope that were false to make people happy and just leave everything. I think that’s just making me doenjang (superficial/full of BS)

Text on the chat:

ERIC: What time is the live tomorrow, Andy? ANDY: The time is not set yet, hyung. We'll set it after meeting with Dongwanie hyung tomorrow. ERIC: Can you tell him to invite me for tomorrow liveㅎㅎ ANDY: Okay ERIC: ㅋㅋㅋ ANDY: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ ERIC: I'm curious what he'll say ㅎㅎ No matter what he says, just forward it to me. I'll also adjust as needed. If it's really too convenient, then I'll think of a way to adjust it. ANDY: eung eung (yes yes)

Source: muneric Translation: 6rystalis

Dongwan’s post:

I am Kim Dongwan.

First of all, I feel very sorry for all the Shinhwa Changjo who got shocked.

Tomorrow, I will meet the members and have a good talk. Because it is internal affairs, we should discuss it among ourselves first.

The previous announcement about holding a live with Andy will go ahead as planned.

The conception of Shinhwa albums and concerts require the investment of a lot of manpower. This isn't completed by members on their own, or can be completed by just any member. To members, Shinhwa activities are very important and something they really look forward to. So, I have always taken into account the opinions of all six members, and after adjustments, produce a conclusion that is satisfying to all members.

Before getting this conclusion, other than the members' opinions, communication with the production team is also very important. It requires the polishing of time and opportunity.

Apart from the problem about contacting me... If we could've had a little bit of communication with the production team beginning last year, if we could've communicated so that they could feel at ease, then Shinhwa and Shinhwa Changjo wouldn't have had to encounter a situation like this... This is a point that I feel a bit regretful about.

We work hard together to be the Shinhwa that will paint a beautiful painting for Shinhwa Changjo.

Thank you, everyone.

Source: danedkim Translation: 6rystalis

Eric’s 3rd post:

Starting from 3pm, I had been asking Dongwannie and constantly checking with Andy for updates, but there was no answer at all about whether he was going to accept or reject my request to be there. Said it was because the production team couldn't contact me, so that's why they couldn't go forward with their work. Then let me tell you about my position. It started around "Sniper" activities? Around 2015-2021, he hasn't been in our group chat for 6 years; and after being blocked, I never got his new phone number. During the time I announced my marriage, because of "whether I let the members know I was getting married", I was being attacked. There was that brother that came out and loudly said, "Eric definitely has his own reasons~ Please understand~" Kept getting cursed or something. From the blank period in the military to album production in the years that followed, schedules and venues were booked one year in advance by me. I wouldn't know how to keep in contact with the production team? In those 6 years, I'm always telling everyone we should hold a meeting. Every time, the schedule is adjusted weeks in advance so that we can have this hard-earned chance to meet up. Even like that, we weren't able to see each other. There are too many times where there was no other way because of deadlines to just hold a meeting with 5 people.

Last year was the same. Again, I told the members that we should meet, everyone should open up some time in your schedule. And then the date was set, but on the day, we were stood up. The kind-hearted members were finally able to meet up after so much, but weren't even able to take a picture for proof before we separated. I was also really tired, so I suggested if it's hard to find time in your schedule, then let's use group chat to to figure things out, it'll be more convenient. I'm also really busy with work. Each time I have to adjust my schedule so we can meet, but if it gets cancelled on the day, I'll also feel really tired. Even so, he still refused to use group chat to discuss things. I'm also human. I thought, "We're in pandemic conditions and I still have dramas to film. If it continues like this, just leave it, stop pretending to be close." And so, at the end of last year, I stopped joining the group chat. But the root of the problem is here. In the 6 years that I have been doing all this, where I was constantly cursed, after I left group chat for a mere 3 months? Under the circumstances where I was absent, you had a meeting in a chat, in the way where you are comforting others and telling them to air out their raincoats? At that point, I couldn't hold it anymore. A few days ago, a Shinchang chat was established in Clubhouse. Like it was an official channel, you talked about things that members have never discussed or confirmed. There was even content that we haven't even heard of before. Yesterday, you said, "It wasn't you. It was because there are a few members who don't want to hold Shinhwa activities that these activities weren't confirmed in the end" ?

I'm not playing that despicable SNS where you can say things without leaving any evidence, talking about things that don't exist or politics where people criticize you. But to be different from being like that despicable SNS. I chose to leave a record of what I'm saying to be criticized. I guess it can be considered me saying what's on my mind. 6 years and 3 months. I'm too angry, so I suggested in the past that for 3 months, everyone should calm down on their own and think about what our things mean to us. If suggesting these 3 months is wrong, then I admit it, I apologize. But, in the post, it brought up the production team. I really want to ask, am I really the one affecting Shinhwa's schedule? Up until now, I've asked another members about this situation, yet I'm still unable to get a solid answer about whether you're accepting my arrival. Instead, you confirmed on Instagram that it's Eric and the production team's miscommunication that things couldn't be confirmed? I'm preparing to take a rest right now. I'm going to treat it as you rejecting to invite me to join you tomorrow. If members discuss things in the future and really want to make our dongsaeng, who's caught in the middle, uncomfortable, then just continue to do so. The person I wanted you to invite was me, so why are you replying to the fans? It would be great if I also had the ability to omit the main point and say words that sound nice to the ears. But, I'm also human. I apologize to everyone for having to listen to such tiring story.

Dongwan’s reply: I had a phone call with Andy around 6pm. I said that the 3 of us should meet and talk together. Perhaps he hasn’t told you yet. I’m coming to Seoul tomorrow. We’ll talk face to face.

Source: muneric Translation: 6rystalis

============================================================

Eric also did 2 more posts about the hate posts from Shinhwa DC Gall. We might translate it later if translator has time.

#shinhwa #Eric Mun #Eric Moon #Mun Jung Huk #Eric #Lee Minwoo #Kim Dongwan #Shin Hyesung #Junjin #Andy Lee #신화 #에릭 #문정혁 #이민우 #김동완 #신혜성 #전진 #앤디

79 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 4 years ago

Note

First Meeting of Genji and Tracer maybe?

I haven’t forgotten all the kiss prompts but I wanted to gear-shift to something a little more punchy!

-------

“I don’t know about this…” Genji mindlessly brushed his fingers along the handle of Ryū-Ichimonji as he walked down the hall, “I’ve never really thought of myself as a teacher...”

“You said you wanted to get off the bench,” Reyes walked alongside him, both hands in the mono-pocket of his hoodie. He had a way of carrying himself that made it easy for the eye to scan past him, despite being head of Blackwatch, but Genji drew the eye, bare skin and metal, and stark black, white and red prosthetics, and so in their walk virtually all Overwatch staff in the hallway gave them an unnaturally wide berth, first a natural reaction to Genji’s appearance, then a flinching recognition of Reyes. “This is the best Jack and I can do for you,” Reyes went on, “Besides, she was in the RAF before this, so it’s not like she’s coming into this with no combat knowledge.”

‘The best Jack and I can do for you,’ Genji glanced away from Reyes, his eyes narrowing in thought, So you show Jack one hand with me, while keeping the other behind your back with McCree. I’m the ‘accountability’ agent, but McCree and Moira... they’re still Blackwatch. They’re still working. His ‘real’ agents. Genji wondered where McCree was now. Was it an ‘errand’ this time or a ‘vacation?’ It wasn’t as if it was sanctioned by Jack either way, but it wasn’t like Jack would look too closely or question it so long as the cyborg ninja was accounted for.

“Hey,” Reyes spoke and Genji was forced to pull himself out of his bristling silence, “Being a part of Overwatch isn’t just cutting through shit with a sword. You have to show you can work with people, and not just Blackwatch.” Reyes gave a short snort, “Though, let’s be real, saying you worked with Blackwatch is a bit of a stretch.”

Genji kept his eyes fixed away sullenly. “So she’s not the only one learning, here,” he mused.

“Now you’re getting it,” said Reyes, smiling.

“You don’t know when Blackwatch’s suspension is ending, do you?” Genji’s voice was level but it wiped the smile from Reyes’s face in an instant.

“Can’t say that I do,” Reyes flicked his own eyes forward, down the hall, “But that doesn’t mean I’m sitting on my hands, Shimada. You can believe me when I say I’m working on ways to get you back out there, because Talon’s only going to get bolder while we’re wrapping ourselves in red tape. But you have to show me, Jack, and all these UN pearl-clutchers you can adapt. Do you understand?”

“Mm,” Genji gave a single nod as they exited two automatic doors out to the training area, where a cluster of training bots where doddering around in various directions.

“Had ‘em cue up your usual warm-up,” said Reyes, putting his hands on his hips, “Think benchwarming got you soft?”

Genji gave a short scoff before drawing Ryū-Ichimonji from his back, but Reyes could hear the smile in his breath beneath his faceplate.

----

“Wow... Blackwatch!” Tracer’s eyes were wide as Mercy and Winston stood next to her in the elevator, “I heard all about the--I mean, everyone heard about Venice but--blimey! Are we sure it’s all right?”

“We’re approaching this as a sort of... rehabilitation from suspension,” said Mercy, “And don’t worry, I’m very well-acquainted with your future teacher and I can assure you that Genji Shimada holds himself to a very high standard as an agent.”

“I know that but....I don’t know if I’m cut out for any of that ninja stuff,” Trace glanced down at the chronal accelerator glowing in her chest, “This thing doesn’t exactly make it ea--easy to sneak around.” A brief ripple of glowing blue chronal feedback bloomed around her on the word ‘easy’ and her shoulders bunched up self-consciously, “Sometimes I don’t know if I can pull off that... speed-up thing I did back with the prototypes...”

“The accelerator reacts to your nervous system,” Winston chimed in, “We can worry about safely discharging the chronal distortion later, but it’s perfectly safe and stable as it is right now! All you need to worry about is keeping a cool head!”

“Cool head,” Tracer said firmly, “Right.”

“But if anything feels wrong you should tell us immediately,” Mercy quickly added.

“Gotcha, gotcha,” said Tracer, nodding. The three of them stood in a nervous, excited silence for a few seconds.

“Is he nice?” Tracer asked, looking at Mercy, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can deal with the ‘tough love’ types, but I guess I’m just not really sure what to expect with all this Blackwatch stuff...”

“Oh he’s wonderful,” said Mercy beaming as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, “And I think, while both your situations are very unique, he’ll definitely understand what you’re going through. He’s basically had to re-learn how to coordinate his body, too!”

Tracer’s shoulders slumped with some reassurance as they stepped out into the open air of the training area, “Well that’s a relief,” she said, with a lopsided smile.

“Oh yes. He’ll be a great teacher. He’s patient, and attentive, and really quite funny once you get to know him, and he’s very---”

Mercy was cut off by a snarling, roaring, cybernetically warbling scream as a red, white, and black blur rushed past them on the training grounds. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy watched in some combination of awe and terror as Genji Shimada tore through a batch of training bots like a hurricane.

“Very--um...” Mercy’s words turned halting as Genji dove and slid under one bot and became a whirlwind of blades and kicks, slicing up the training bots closing in on him, before sending the poor training bot he had dived under into the air then springing into the air himself. His wires whipped around him as he twisted in the air, sending the training bot flying back with a kick that made it shatter against a wall.

“Very--” Mercy tried to regain her composure and speak quickly but winced as she was cut off again by the screech and clatter of metal, the loud scream of a broken vocal box on one of the training bots as Genji jammed both sword and wakizashi into it before ripping it outward and rendering the training bot an explosion of broken metal parts. Mercy looked sharply over to Tracer, whose mouth was hanging open in a petrified gawk.

“He’s very...” Mercy was trying to eke words out of herself as Genji sliced off the head of one training bot with his sword then stabbed it through with his wakizashi before pivoting and smashing another training bot’s head with the skewered head of its compatriot. “...enthusiastic?”

Genji’s breaths were ragged and his forearms were quaking with how hard his hands were gripping his sword and wakizashi, surrounded by the sparking broken bits of training bots, his shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy all flinched to attention at the sound of clapping next to them and looked to their right to see Gabriel Reyes stick his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistle shrilly before clapping some more.

“Attaboy, Genji! Still got it!” Reyes called out to Genji and Genji seemed to pull himself out of a blood-drunk haze (or at least the robot-destroying equivalent of a blood-drunk haze), looking over his shoulder and then flinching to awkward attention himself as he noticed Reyes was now accompanied by Mercy, the gorilla, and... the newbie.

His student.

Who looked about ready to either throw up or piss herself or both from what she had just seen him do.

Reyes was still clapping and smiling obnoxiously, Genji awkwardly lifted his wakizashi (smaller sword was less threatening, right?) and gave a small wave.

“Uh... yo,” he said.

“Er--excellent form, Genji!” Mercy raised her voice so he could hear her but it came out as a squawk, her desperation to try and diffuse the situation obvious in every intonation, “Very... efficient!” She had that ‘everything is going wrong but for the love of god be strong, Angela’ deliriously forced smile on her face, which he had seen both at 3 AM in the lab and at press conferences going down in flames.

“Thank you?” said Genji, sheathing both his sword and moving to walk toward them but then stumbling over a piece of broken training bot. He quickly recovered, straightened himself up to full height and walked briskly over to them before giving a stiff bow.

“So glad you could join us, Oxton,” said Reyes, turning to look at Tracer, his hands on his hips.

“Reyes?” Mercy’s voice was steel wire-tight, “May we speak?”

“Sure, Ange, what--” Reyes started but Mercy grabbed him by the loose sleeve of the hoodie and practically dragged him through the doors of the training area’s control room.

“Wait, shouldn’t we--” Tracer started feebly after them but the steel doors of the room slammed behind them. Tracer, Genji, and Winston all vaguely made out the muffled sounds of Mercy yelling at Reyes on the other side of the doors.

“What were you thinking?! What was that?!”

“What are you yelling at me for? I just thought he should get a little warmed up and the newbie should get some idea of--”

“Some idea of what?! We’ve only barely scratched the surface of the effects the chronal disassociation is having on her physical abilities and you’re throwing up these warzones like---”

“Hey, I just set up his usual training bot session, Doc, you got a problem with Genji’s style, you take that up with him--”

“I don’t have a problem with Genji’s ‘style’--! I--Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing---! Is this some other play?! Are you--”

Winston cleared his throat. “We should probably...”

“Right..” said Tracer a little sheepishly.

The three of them edged away from the steel doors. Genji glanced over at Tracer, who didn’t seem to know whether to even look at him as they walked themselves out of earshot of the argument.

“So you’re the new recruit from the flight program,” said Genji, folding his arms and trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Ah...y-yeah!” Tracer blurted out. She cleared her throat and stuck her hand out, “Lena Oxton! Callsign Tracer! Reporting for du--” blue light suddenly flared brightly around her from the glowing object on her chest and she seemed to catch herself, clearing her throat, “er... reporting for duty,” she said extending her hand again, which had somehow jerked back to her side with the blue glow.

Genji moved to extend his organic hand, found that that would be awkward with the hand Tracer had chosen to shake with, then hesitantly extended his prosthetic. She shook his hand so hard it jostled up his whole arm before she caught herself and withdrew her hands to her side, clearing her throat.

“Ah so that’s...” Genji started.

“Yeah it’s a thing,” said Tracer, glancing down.

“Well...” Genji gestured up and down himself, “This... is also a thing.”

“I can see that,” said Tracer with a bit of a nervous giggle. They both gave a glance to Winston.

“Oh!” Winston perked up and started unconsciously signing as he spoke, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Winston. I’ll be on the science team overseeing Tracer’s condition with the chronal accelerator. Along with Doctor Ziegler. So we’ll be watching while you’re training together!”

“I see,” said Genji, “And you’re...”

“From the moon,” said Winston.

“From the moon,” Genji repeated, both of them silently agreeing that they didn’t have to go into the ‘gorilla’ part of things. He glanced back at Tracer. “Look--” Genji started but then caught himself, “I--if I scared you back there...”

“You didn’t scare me!” Tracer blurted out.

Both Genji and Winston gave her steady looks and Tracer stiffened her shoulders slightly, “I mean... y’know it’s... nothing I can’t handle. Really!” she put her hands on her hips and huffed, “You’re pretty tame compared to some of the things I’ve seen,” she said. She was trying to inject an adventurous sense of swagger into her voice, but her youth undermined a lot of that.

Genji tilted his head slightly, studying her, and she made eye contact but didn’t sustain it for too long. He was used to that at this point. The red eyes were off-putting for a lot of people, but then his eyes flicked to Winston, then down at the chronal accelerator glowing in Tracer’s chest. There was something simultaneously familiar and alienating standing in their presence, and hearing the faint muffled sounds of Ziegler and Reyes arguing on the other side of the door, there was a spark of kinship between the three of them. Three people who wouldn’t have any place in the world without Overwatch.

“So how do we start?” said Tracer.

“Start?” said Genji, “Now?”

“Well, Doctor Z said you already went through all this stuff to re-learn coordination with all your...” Tracer gestured up and down at him, “Whatnot. And I figure, the sooner for me, the better, right? So lesson one, Teach! Let’s hear it!”

“Uh...” Genji rubbed the back of his head.

“Perhaps you could begin with assessment?” Winston suggested, “Establish what level of combat training Tracer should start with?”

The fastest way to do that is sparring, Genji thought and he got a horrifying mental image of Ziegler and Reyes emerging from their argument in the control room only to walk in on him punching Morrison’s beloved time-hopping newbie in the face.

“The first step to training is.... establishing the training space!” Genji blurted out. He vaguely remembered some lectures from his Shimada clan trainers indicating something similar, but the force that propelled those words from his mouth were more of the ‘70% panic’ variety.

“Establishing the training ground?” Tracer tilted her head.

“You can’t train in a cluttered space,” Genji pointed at the countless broken bits of training bots strewn across the training grounds, “You can start by cleaning those up.”

“...isn’t that your mess?” said Tracer.

“Who’s the teacher here?” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Right! Of course! Sorry!” said Tracer with a sharp salute before zipping off in a blue streak. Genji flinched hard at how inhumanly fast she moved and she seemed to catch herself as well, skidding to a halt on her heels. “Winston!” she called out excitedly, “Did you see that!? I did the thing! I did the speedy thing again!! I didn’t even think about it!! You’re such a good teacher, Genji!”

“I know,” said Genji, trying to look off stoically as Tracer zipped around the training grounds, picking up broken training bot bits and laughing between flashes of blue light.

“...you don’t know what ‘the speedy thing’ is, do you?” said Winston, very quietly.

“No,” Genji replied, also very quietly.

“You’re making this up as you go along,” Winston said flatly.

“It’s called ‘adapting,’” said Genji. He could still feel Winston’s eyes on him, skeptical. “I can adapt,” Genji said, mostly to himself as Tracer threw a bunch of training bot parts into a recycling bin with a loud clatter.

#overwatch #overwatch fic #genji shimada #tracer #angela ziegler

79 notes · View notes

saintprivateer · 4 years ago

Note

I understand the ideas behind the zemenipearls post but can we not just have a nice fictional world? It’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a great nation of saintly people, it’s all fantasy for a reason. I won’t get started on their posts about my girl Nina and my dude Nikolai 😒

Okay... there’s a lot of ground to cover here so boot up cowhand I wrote a LOT

No matter how unlike-this-world a fantasy universe seems, it was still crafted by a real human who IS a part of this world. And humans put their own beliefs and experiences into their stories as the foundation for how ideal/ not-ideal they want the au to be. We use the environment around us as a stepping stone for our stories, and this DOUBLES if the author is saying “This World Is Not Like Ours At All”. The question authors answer of “What exactly is this au not like?” Rounds back to the place we are trying to distance ourselves from, because that is what this au is “not like.” And most often, authors craft these fantasy universes and bring the reader into a whole new world only to go back to a REAL theme of “This World Is Actually More Like Yours Than You Think.” Because that’s usually the entire point. We like fantasy because we want to see our nature mirrored in worlds unlike ours. We love that people can fly and cast spells, but we REALLY love when they’re as human as us in behavior/interests/ actions.

All that’s to say: you can’t actually write a racism-free world if you’ve never experienced a racism-free world. The ideals we want to portray will still be flawed and not 100% ideal, because the notion we have OF this ideal is fundamentally flawed. ESPECIALLY if we are still unlearning our own fallacies to these ideals. Grishaverse has anti-blackness threaded in the pages because there is anti-blackness on Earth and anti-black fallacies in the ideals Leigh Bardugo has internalized (like any other white person). If we can acknowledge the argument that meanings can be found in stories/art whether it was intended or not, then we have to acknowledge Leigh Bardugo wrote in her own prejudice or anti-black ideals into the grishaverse, whether intended or not. She wanted to write a story removed from the racism we know, and that in of itself isn’t a bad thing to imagine. But she still wrote tropes actively harmful to the minorities they represent.

“Why do you have to look for patterns that aren’t there and nitpick on characters? Why does everything have to be about race? Isn’t it enough that our heroes are TRYING to be good?”

When people say this, they usually mean “Why are you putting this in my face? We (the group not affected) were all doing fine until you decided to be grumpy about something, and I don’t want my ideals soiled by your criticisms.”

Imagine seeing the person who’s supposed to represent you and your identity be repeatedly trashed, ignored, dumbed down, dismissed, killed off, etc etc in canon and in the fandom, and when you finally get the courage to bring it up, the entirety of people not affected silence and threaten you for rocking their boat. You really can’t imagine how that actually feels unless you’ve felt it. When you write off the consistently abusive treatment of a community of people in a book as an inconvenient—and thus invalid— topic that “ruins” the characters or plots you want to root for, you’re acknowledging the privilege you have in being able to look the other way when these patterns have been brought to your attention.

There’s a lot you might not catch when you aren’t a part of the communities affected. If someone is gracious enough to extend their emotional and intellectual labor to point it out to you despite the all the gaslighting and harassment they face, the LEAST you can do is have an open mind and release the defenses and previous ideals you’ve cultivated for the characters you love. Black fans don’t owe it to you to spell it out, but they sometimes do! Despite how white fans treat them in return.

You said “it’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a nation of great saintly people.” Great! So we agree everyone should be praised and criticized accordingly? And when it’s pointed out that a character exhibits bigotry we can acknowledge that as a part of the environment they’ve lived in and thus a trait of themselves?

You can enjoy any universe or the characters that come with it in full capacity, and no one is asking you to discard stories entirely because of the mistakes. Nikolai meant and means a lot to me because of the ideals that I crafted in my head from 16 up. He’s a comfort character! He was my vision of a masc-presenting adventurer who got by with wit and charm and aesthetics. The people who love him see something of themselves in him, or someone they love. But he’s still a product of his environment. Just because I don’t want that to be true doesn’t make it untrue. Ravka is fantasy Russia but .*•*~more idealistic*.~*. This doesn’t take away the fact that the foundation is...still Russia. He’s still a privileged white king thats actively oppressing minorities in the story by upholding the kingship as it is, and if he continues the path he’s on, he’s not much better than his heritage. I love Nina to death but she’s still the jarhead kid in your algebra class ready to fight anyone who says her country merits basic criticism. The kingdom of Ravka would need to be entirely dismantled and recreated. Nikolai might seem more progressive than the kings before him, but he’s got a lot to be reprimanded for, and rebuilding can’t even start until he acknowledges and unlearns that. Which...he hasn’t, not fully, and there’s no written proof of him doing so as of now.

Before I made myself research more I got just as defensive of him and others. I’m sure I’ll get defensive over another story and have to relearn everything all over again. It’s a process and you have to check yourself all the time. But it’s a step towards the ideals we want to actually live in. If I want to imagine Nikolai a better man, I have to start from the scraps I’m given.

So yes!! You’re allowed to draw up your own themes and ideals from the stories and reimagine the characters to fit a narrative that makes your heart happy. But it won’t change the reality of the canon universe. Zemenipearls enjoyed the grishaverse so much she made a fan account for it, participates in fan-led events that celebrate the characters (and sometimes leads those events herself), commissions artists to make fanart, and has ongoing works that delve into the expansive universe that better represents her and what she wants for black characters in fantasy. And she STILL gets shit for imploring a conversation about what we all want to ignore away. Why would she put so much energy into this if she didn’t care or believe in this story too? If you also care about grishaverse that much, shouldn’t we be willing to uplift and reimagine by starting where the work needs it most?

Okay I’ve said a LOT SORRY HHHHH BUT TO WRAP UP: Ignoring a fictional character’s faults or repercussions is one thing, and I’m not about to waste energy on making people hold characters in a book accountable. We all see how people treat the Darkling.

But when you participate in or ignore the bullying and threatening that happens to REAL people, when people JUSTIFY that shit as if it merits denying a person their humanity, THATS the actual harm being done. (Not saying you’ve done that, but the mindset I’m seeing here is what feeds into that compliance.)

If we have the energy to protect and coddle our fictional white boys and let them burn the sandbox down, I KNOW we have energy to respect and protect black fans who have just as much say in how they see the story or how they reimagine it. If you have the energy to accept/tolerate the stuff alarkling fans promote, I KNOW you have the energy to put your pride away and acknowledge fallacies in your own ideals for characters. And regardless!!! of whether you “agree” with the criticisms or not, does that mean the person who spoke up about the issue deserves to be harassed?

I’m gonna ask the white ya majority reading this to be humble and open your hearts up to change the way you do for fictional edgy white dudes. Y’all have the SPIRIT but then it funnels into the WRONG IDEAS!!! PLEASE use your heads you’d be unstoppable if you used your privilege to amplify the ones who need amplifying. I promise Cardan BlackBerry and Alesksxxander Marigold aren’t gonna be disappointed in you 😔🙏

#that’s my piece on THAT sorry I’ve had time to sit with this #I wanted to go ahead and get it out on one thing too so I can refer back possibly #fandom racism #anti blackness #grishaverse #Nikolai Lantsov #kos king of scars #Nina Zenik #Ravka #analysis #ya fiction #zemenipearls #tgt the grisha trilogy #soc six of crows #ck crooked kingdom

196 notes · View notes

simonalkenmayer · 4 years ago

Text

Look, this isn’t difficult. It’s governed by precepts of basic decency. You don’t have an uninhibited right to blast your opinion all over the place. You can have one, of course! But if you put your opinion out there, there will be consequences for that action. Some day, some person is going to have something to say about your opinion, and while you don’t have to agree, you will have to at least listen. You cannot simply say “oh well deal with it.” And if your opinion, once stated, becomes a rallying point or a banner or a conspiracy theory for people less willing to restrain themselves, then you have a very serious problem. Because if you keep saying your opinion and don’t listen critically to yourself, and don’t say “what might people do with this” or “Am I advocating any kind of harm or potentially excusing it?” Then you’re being irresponsible. It’s that simple.

I talk about eating criminals. Sure. But I also talk about how criminality is a societal term with all sorts of socioeconomic issues, and I freely admit I’d rather not have to delve into that, because I don’t agree with all the laws that designate criminality. It’s simply a rude fact that criminals are forgotten by society and therefore easily obtained by me. I don’t like that, but it is how it is. If one of you openly contemplated doing harm I always explain why you shouldn’t, how to combat it within the law, how to be safe and blameless. I also refuse to do it for you. I also explain why you shouldn’t eat your own kind. And I talk about the discipline of kindness. That is how I combat the negative characters who might consider using me as their rallying cry. That’s the responsible thing to do. I’m not perfect at it all the time, as I do in fact have emotions and sometimes I react to things. I also use outdated language sometimes and the words can create impressions I have to answer for later, so when someone points out I’ve used a word irresponsibly, I take it extremely seriously.

You don’t have the right to vilify someone and then throw your hands up when others buy into your disjointed ideas and conspiracies and begin enacting punishments on that person or their loved ones or friends. You’re encouraging them, directing them. You’re using ideas to manipulate them. And yes they may be ultimately culpable, but you are actually contributing to it by stoking the fire of paranoia, fear, obsession, concern, and betrayal that they feel.

I have talked many times about social transmission, memetic transference and conjugation—these are large words that essentially come down to how ideas move in groups. It’s one of the things I find most fascinating about the human brain. Before now, we didn’t really have any sort of concept of this. It was really mass communication that begin it. I can recall in the early days of this republic quite a few legal battles and precedents being said by people who argued that their reputations and their legacies were being damaged by the information put out in newspapers. That was the beginning. Now it’s social media and for the first time we can actively track the traffic to pages, information sources, accounts. We can see the transmission happen based on retweets and reblogs and we can watch it’s evolution. And because we can see the way the danger comes about, we have to begin holding ourselves accountable. Memetic tampering, ideological malfeasance has to be curtailed.

Yes, say all you like about slippery slopes and human rights, but shouting fire in a crowded theater has been a recognized legal concept for some time. Incitement to riot is not acceptable. But those are large. Let’s move smaller. In your every day life, you are beneath the same standard if you want to call yourself a decent person.

You have to contemplate the consequences of your opinions, not just to you, but to others, should they be taken up by the sort of people who can and do cause harm. you have to make sure your day is accurate or as accurate as possible if you press it. You have to make sure you correct yourself if you make an error. You have to retract or apologize. We treat social media like it’s a megaphone but it isn’t. It’s mentally treated as a news source. We are all journalists. We have to abide by journalistic standards in our daily habits or we run the risk of growing these conspiracies within our ranks. But it is even smaller than that. This is how we also combat bullying! Online bullying should not be allowed, and to stop it we all have to create that etiquette and abide by it.

That’s why I fight with TERFS who want to play on stereotypes that victimize trans people. It’s why I fight with racists and people who demonstrate ableism. Being someone who cannot get ill, I’ve had to learn a great deal in the past five years about chronic illness. I’ve learned about mental health. Hell, I even cut the insult “half-wit” from my lexicon because someone pointed out that people who have survived traumatic brain injury can be completely fine intellectually and that even though I didn’t mean it to imply anything about head injuries or actual intellectual capacity, it implied that I did and was hurtful to some. Fair enough! I will alter my stance accordingly to adjust for the accountability I have. Then there’s cultural appropriation, of which, I understandably, have been accused. I comprehend the argument. To my eye I am discussing something that is in the human brain and therefore is a part of every culture, not one, but sometimes such arguments make it easy for bigoted people to point to indigenous groups (for whom monsters or otherworldly figures are very religiously or spiritually important) and say “see they are broken and that justifies our mistreatment of them”, when in fact that isn’t what I am arguing at all. But it could be used that way. And so I no longer will discuss certain monsters of certain groups openly in public forums and I’ve locked or discarded my discussions of them as I find them.

Anyway, pardon my sudden rant. I simply wanted to express this thought I’ve been having as I watch the events of this week both in the public forum and my own life. We all need to understand that the pendulum swings. Social media was new and fun and we all jumped in(me a bit later than others) but we now have to built etiquette and boundaries and rules and we have to set standards of behavior that we can all police. It is just mandatory or you end up breeding trolls and In-cels and TERFS and allowing white supremacy to build itself back up, or spread lies, or give bad people reasons to forgive their own bad actions. If people listen to you, then you’re accountable.

Ideas don’t just adversely affect children or the mentally ill or women or minorities...the adversely affect everyone. Every repetition of something builds it into your brain meat. Every time you say “X is a bad person” you are building that into someone’s mind. So when they turn around and say “I’m going to hurt them” you can’t then be mystified and say “well I had nothing to do with that! I didn’t advocate violence”

You did, just by being irresponsible with the type of things you said, the way you said it, the implications you made about their character, the character of their friends, the incitement to misinterpret, and so on. You do own that.

Be aware of each other. That’s all.

Please excuse my rant.

63 notes · View notes

captainpikeachu · 4 years ago

Text

I really can’t stop thinking about the way The Old Guard really makes us analyze the issues of empathy, forgiveness, consequences, and accountability. So many action flicks don’t ever have the level of robust character development and relationships between characters to make this work, yet here I am weeks later still thinking about this because the way the filmmakers really took the time to make you question, make you think, and make you understand the motivations driving the actions of each character, even if you may not sometimes agree with the decisions.

The way they handled Booker’s punishment is one of those things that still makes me think. Because on one hand, the story made us empathize with Booker’s struggles, we understand why he did what he did, we know it was not some evil malicious intent. But on the other hand, we also know that his actions carry consequences, and that just because you don’t mean to do something, doesn’t mean you haven’t hurt someone and that you shouldn’t be held accountable. It’s this eternal struggle of what kind of punishment and accountability is appropriate then, and is there ever truly a “right” way to handle things?

Booker’s problems stemmed from his grief and his pain and his overwhelming loneliness that clearly has been taking a toll on his mental health across the years. So is then punishing him by exiling him to be lonely and away from his family for 100 years really the best way? Is it just pure punishment? Or is it rehabilitative? If he wasn’t handling things well before when he was with the team, then could he be expected to handle things any better without them? And is the team expecting him to be better or was this in the end just a reaction that maybe came out of anger? Maybe even guilt that they themselves didn’t see the warning signs of Booker’s struggles and didn’t stop it before it got this bad?

I mean, this is really as complex of a issue as it would be in real life. Because yes on one hand the people around you maybe should have seen the troubles and done something to help, but then if your struggles end up hurting the people you love, are they not allowed to remove themselves from the situation? Booker’s actions did hurt Andy, Nicky, Joe, and Nile, so is it really fair for anyone to expect them to have to stay by his side to help him fix his issues at the expense of their own hurt and pain? And can they help him get better if they don’t work through their own pain and anger first? Because if he did stay with them, if there was no separation and space for them all to work things out on how they feel, would the distrust and anger not just fester and poison all of their relationships even more? And wouldn’t that in the end hurt everyone even more?

And what about accountability? At what point is the struggles of our own mental health something that we ourselves must take hold of the reins of and endeavor to fix and change, rather than relying on others to fix us instead?

The narrative makes us empathize with Booker, we want to forgive him, we want this family back together, we know what pain he is in, but I feel like it is also saying that Booker must be responsible for his own actions and resolving his own struggles that he’s never properly worked through. He has to stand on his own two feet first and truly work through his pains, be accountable for himself, before he can be with the others again. They cannot save him from his mental health and pain all by themselves, he must put in the work to stand up on his own power, and then they can help him carry the burdens.

So many films and stories don’t bother to deal with this kind of empathy or accountability, betrayals sometimes easily forgiven as if the hurt never happened, or the narrative makes it seem like the ones hurt owes the betrayer something, that it is their job to forgive. And I’m glad that The Old Guard doesn’t do that. That this story isn’t saying betrayal has no consequences and all is well, or that the pain of Andy, Nicky, Joe, and Nile should be diminished to lift up Booker just because he was in pain. This narrative shows us the importance of forgiveness and compassion, of the power of that love, but it also tempers that with the importance of accountability, that our actions have consequences and it’s not just suddenly all fixed, that it can be complicated and painful but it is also something we must work through to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

#the old guard #sebastien le livre #andromache the scythian #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #nile freeman #i love this movie so much

208 notes · View notes

infinitecrime · 4 years ago

Text

Spoiler-free TFATWS Ep. 1 review:

A strong and promising set-up episode to reintroduce us to these characters and where they’re at now, with plenty of (sometimes a little clunky...) world building, beautiful cinematography and action sequences, and some really likable new characters. Grounded in reality but it still felt big and like everything could kick off at any time. I have some reservations about Sam’s writing so far but got everything I wanted from Bucky’s. 8/10

Spoiler-heavy review:

Plot/Writing:

No big issues with the plot; it was a set up episode so I wasn’t expecting any huge revelations. Everything was very well done.

Sam’s scenes were meant to show the mundane and realistic aspects of being a superhero and the struggles of post-blip life, but at times they felt a little too mundane and repetitive, particularly the bank stuff. I feel like something more substantial could have been done with Sarah to make that plotline more tense and add real stakes - her car getting towed, an eviction notice, a bailiff coming round, for example? We hear that they’re struggling, but we don’t really see it.

There were a couple of moments of exposition that were so clunky and forced that it really made them stand out, because the rest of the script was so smooth and natural. Particularly Torres explaining who the flag smashers were to Sam, Yori suddenly being reminded of his son, and then some of the lines in the loan scene.

The audience isn’t dumb; we can figure these things out for ourselves. For example, the line from Yori about his son could have been cut entirely because it was already obvious. Bucky seeing the photo in the shrine at the end should have been the reveal for anyone who hadn’t figured it out.

In prior movies we’ve had plenty of backstory for Bucky, but no personality, and plenty of personality for Sam, but no backstory. They needed to fill in those gaps in a way that didn’t have us drowning in constant angst with Bucky, or drowning in constant exposition with Sam. I think we were successful with Bucky because he had some light moments, but Sam’s scenes were just a bit too exposition heavy to feel quite natural. I’m forgiving them because it’s a set up episode, but they need to balance this better in the future.

Sam:

Loved Sam’s action scenes, his relationship with Torres, his interactions with members of the public, all the stuff at the Smithsonian with Rhodey, and his banter with his family. Anthony killed the Smithsonian speech scene and his chemistry with Sarah and Torres is great. But most of the reservations I have about this series after the first episode are about Sam’s scenes, even though I liked them overall.

His writing started very strong but then kind of... fizzled out up until the last 2 minutes? Despite Sam being arguably the most charismatic and likeable and emphatic characters in the MCU, his characterisation just didn’t really come across in the latter half, because he seemed a little too out of touch with what Sarah was going through. Having so many scenes of people hero-worshipping him in one short episode definitely didn’t help with this - we put him in a down to earth, everyman setting but didn’t really see him being that everyman that we know he is, especially when we compare him to Bucky who’s living largely incognito. If I had been a first time MCU viewer I would not have been endeared to him or really gotten what his character was about because it seemed a bit all over the place.

I think this could have been fixed by having a darker scene with his family that would have humbled him to the audience and given Anthony an opportunity to flex his range. Like visiting his parents graves, or being unable to connect with his nephew’s because he’s been gone so long they don’t recognise him, or assuring Sarah that everything’s going to be fine with money then looking at an empty bank account and panicking when she was out of the room. Without that scene it just felt like he was brushing Sarah’s reality and struggles off with an “eh, it’ll be fine!” attitude. We got some range from his character at the Smithsonian, but even that felt like it was more about the shield and the symbol than about Sam and Steve, because we weren’t told whether Steve is alive or dead or still in Sam’s life, so we don’t really know what Sam is feeling.

I’m hoping now that the character set up is done and the fight for the shield gets going, this will get better.

Also, while Sam's opening sequence was awesome and really showed the capabilities of the wings and Red Wing and Sam himself, it felt ever so slightly too OP on the tech front. Unless Redwing has semi-sentient AI like Jarvis the way it works is just too unbelievable, and the wings also seemed to be semi-sentient or controlled by his brain somehow? I think they need to figure out exactly how his tech works because right now we’re leaning into ‘magic wings’ territory.

Bucky:

I love that Sam has been trying to reach out to him as mentioned by the therapist. I wish Sam and Rhodey had paused at his exhibit in the Smithsonian or mentioned him to tie the two storylines together more tightly.

This Bucky is my exact Bucky. This is the absolutely perfect characterisation for me. Snarky, funny, smart, kind of a dork, morally grey, riddled by guilt, trying to do the right thing, depths of sadness and rage and loss, barely holding it together, regaining his old sass and personality and memories but forever a changed man. He wasn’t a totally broken damsel in distress, he wasn’t a completely lawful good hero, he was an independent but traumatised man trying his best to heal.

I’m happy that they mentioned his family and the ‘man out of time’ thing was dealt with very well. He’s wasn’t totally lost, just bemused but adapting well. I was worried they were going to sweep it all under the rug because they felt all ground had been covered with Steve, but they didn’t.

It’s also great that they showed he was capable with technology. The Winter Soldier would absolutely have used all kinds of tech, Bucky was always a science nerd, and he lived in high-tech Wakanda for a few years. He’s likely fine with technology, it’s the people and culture he doesn’t understand.

I love him trying to date and being flirty. I will continue to fight the people who say he shouldn’t be dating because he has PTSD - it’s fucking ableist and patronising. Also, he’s been free from HYDRA for almost 5 years (10 if you count the blip). When is he allowed to start dating if not after 5 whole years?!

Sam has previously been the funny one but I think Bucky had better one liners here. I can’t wait until we see both of them together, their chemistry is unmatched.

Seb does all these conflicting emotions and micro-expressions and feelings hidden in the eyes so, so well. You feel it all - the guilt and shame, the desperation to make amends, but also the rage and need for revenge and killer instinct bubbling under the surface that he’s constantly having to fight down. This is a character with a dark side, and no matter how fandom may characterise him, he always has been. Seb really bought the comedy here too.

Bucky having P.W. Hauser in his book was hilarious.

New Characters:

All the new characters felt very real and likeable. Loved the girl in the restaurant (did they actually say her name? I think from the credits she must be Leah), Sarah Wilson, the no-shit taking therapist, Yori, and particularly Torres, who I have a feeling will die but I really love.

I see from the IMDB that Leah is listed as appearing in all 6 episodes, so maybe there will be an actual relationship between her and Bucky? Or she’s a secret super hero or not who she seems? We didn’t actually see Batroc die, meaning he will likely come back too. He’s listed as only having 1 ep on IMDB but so is the therapist and we know she comes back from the promos - maybe IMDB is just wrong, idk.

Other:

The cinematography was really great, some beautiful shots here, especially around Louisiana and the Tunisia stuff.

It’s such a minor thing but I like when people actually get to speak the languages they would speak in that situation, instead of a room full of French people speaking English for the audiences benefit. It feels so much more real.

Even the end credits were beautiful!

#tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

21 notes · View notes

doomstypewriter · 4 years ago

Note

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!! I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)).

Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool!

<< Chapter 1 AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance

Word count: 9376

Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything.

TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me.

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions.

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco.

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well.

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries.

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to.

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done.

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape.

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist. Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested.

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away.

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse.

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback.

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove.

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

-------------------------

His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories.

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company.

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person.

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more.

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand.

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time.

Patton smiled in contemplation.

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it.

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening.

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his.

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape.

“You are stealing!”

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine.

“Stealing, of course”.

“That is vile!”

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?”

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”.

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”.

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”.

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it".

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first".

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous.

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window.

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag.

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second.

“I suppose…”

“Well, then, there you go, sir”.

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins.

“Hmm…”

“What is the matter?”

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”.

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm.

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real. “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?”

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback.

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”.

“Oh, I’m sure”.

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief.

Patton felt mortified.

“I-I mean…”

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious.

Words would not come to him.

“The coin bag, please”.

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured.

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again:

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”.

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t.

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”.

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window.

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing.

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time.

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another.

Like now.

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side.

“Hello, big guy”.

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left.

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers. You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger.

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”.

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor.

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry.

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

-------------------------

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look.

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow.

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair.

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his. Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony?

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it.

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents.

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere.

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment.

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again.

“I was asking about you”.

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”.

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”.

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks.

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion.

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”.

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…”

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying.

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia.

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…”

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”.

Patton laughed.

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it.

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”.

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”.

“Of course, lead the way”.

-------------------------

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by.

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice.

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there.

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though…

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine.

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing.

And, of course, Patton’s presence here.

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy.

The clothes were on and he was inside the house.

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic.

It made his life easier, though.

He was in.

He was in and he was going to… what?

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe.

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure.

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night.

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below.

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

-------------------------

“How could she do this to me!?”

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination.

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth.

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”.

“I-- this is outrageous!”

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?”

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request.

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!”

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?”

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment.

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned.

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”.

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!”

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose.

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery.

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?”

“How about you begin by coming back--”

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--”

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely.

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!”

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--”

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!”

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!”

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!”

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words.

“I am sorry”.

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”.

“If…”

Romina returned to her side.

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely.

“Please, please look at me”.

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina.

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”.

Virginia rolled her eyes.

“The only one that dense here is you”.

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”.

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline.

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet.

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger.

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience.

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted.

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled.

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands.

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look.

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

-------------------------

The room was quiet.

No.

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather.

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great.

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple.

Patton could not ignore it.

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her.

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off.

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer.

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

-------------------------

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes.

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands.

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot.

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress.

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned.

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down.

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”.

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape.

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword.

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard.

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble.

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say.

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”.

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?”

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help.

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?”

The maid squinted at him.

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed.

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell.

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”.

Both women caught their breaths.

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”.

“What is it that you want?”

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--”

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”.

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!”

Oh, fuck.

Well, it couldn’t be helped.

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck.

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

-------------------------

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard.

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over.

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention.

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it.

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out.

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone.

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together.

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards.

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no.

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck.

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

-------------------------

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do.

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment.

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said.

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord.

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea.

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop.

That was it.

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece.

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”.

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half.

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below.

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”.

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say.

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away.

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?”

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground.

“I would die for her, any day”.

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!”

“It is a promise”.

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare.

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years.

Something didn’t fit.

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards.

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully.

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”.

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword.

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook.

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned.

She looked down and smirked.

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg.

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage.

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand.

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice.

Romina laughed in between her teeth.

“I may not, but I know one thing”.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”.

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right.

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

-------------------------

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs.

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date.

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

-------------------------

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!”

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory.

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move.

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed.

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw.

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand.

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--”

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor.

“Shit” the thief cursed.

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand.

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”.

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”.

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it.

“As you wish”.

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow.

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest.

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for.

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought.

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut.

Virginia looked at him in terror.

The thief looked at Virginia in panic.

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head.

“No!” Romina cried.

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage.

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside.

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling.

The thief’s boots staggered backwards.

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor.

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia.

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases.

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath.

Romina looked upwards to stare at him.

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment.

“I--”

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him.

“Look at me!” the thief shouted.

“Trying to protect your master, villain?”

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say.

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison.

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”.

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?”

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever.

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--”

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”.

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify.

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?”

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line.

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered.

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--”

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath.

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”.

“What?” Romina answered.

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him.

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!”

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted.

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point!

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?”

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”.

“So what is your point? Oooooh!”

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes.

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”.

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor.

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him.

“For forever, put the sword away”.

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet.

“You are one menace of a woman”.

“Thank you”.

“What is going on?!”

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants.

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally.

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio.

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”.

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame.

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured.

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice.

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”.

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered.

Janus did hear her and went on:

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”.

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

-------------------------

All eyes turned to Patton.

“Actually…”

For a moment, he doubted himself.

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse.

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart.

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it.

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”.

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.

-------------------------

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same.

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window.

As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside.

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly.

“Here”.

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked.

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness.

Patton laughed.

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”.

“I’ll remember to thank her”.

“Please, be nice this time”.

“You saw that?”

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”.

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten.

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”.

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I could have lost you today”.

“You saved me again”.

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”.

“Oh, why would that be?”

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”.

“Call it good timing”.

Patton smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well.

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”.

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”.

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”.

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”.

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”.

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack.

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound.

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”.

“Thomas? You know the marquess?”

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”.

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed.

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”.

“Well, that’s rich”.

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”.

“That is… a lot”.

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…”

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close.

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”.

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”.

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied.

“I guess I am”.

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”.

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”.

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?”

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be.

“You are so good”.

Patton kissed him again.

“Only when nobody’s looking”.

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”.

“You think you’re so funny”.

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

-------------------------

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop .

#moceit #prinxiety #ts janus #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #fem!roman #fem!virgil #moceit au #renaissance au #renaissance!Patton #renaissance!Janus #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit fanfiction #doomstypewriter #doomywrites #dooms requests

21 notes · View notes