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tang-wei · 3 years ago

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ONS Guren LN Vol 1 Chapter 5 Part 2 translation

Title: War and Convenience Stores

Translator: @tang-wei

Raws: Chinese

If you feel the need to re-read the whole series again, the masterpost is here. Don’t forget that this is part 2 of chapter 5, please read part 1 as well!

Important note: Because the previous sources for Volume 1 have been taken down/ made unavailable, I am translating this for the sake of fans who are not able to purchase a copy of the official English translation that is available. If you enjoy Guren’s story, then please support the author by buying the novel!

***

The sun had set.

The town was dyed red.

On the way home from school.

In a place where there were not that many people, a small convenience store.

While Sayuri and Shigure shopped for dinner, Guren waited with his arms crossed, sitting on a guardrail.

At that moment,

“Saito-san! Saito-san! Is it really okay for me to buy any sweets that I want?!” The happy voice of a young boy could be heard.

Guren glanced at the direction of the voice. As one would expect, there was a young boy.

A fair-skinned boy with blond hair and a beautiful face. It was likely that he was not Japanese. Or it was possible that he had foreign blood in his veins.

The boy spoke while smiling very happily.

“I wonder what I should buy to make everyone at the orphanage happy~? Hey Saito-san, if I buy ice cream, do you think the director would get mad?”

It was then the man named Saito-san responded,

“I wonder. In that orphanage, is there even a fridge…”

“Of course there’s one.”

“Then it should be fine. Even the director should allow for sweets.”

“Yay!”

“There now, take this money and go to the supermarket. Will you be alright buying it yourself, Mikaela-kun?”

The boy called Mikaela responded to that question,

“Of course. How old do you think I am? I’m 8!” He smiled. It was then Guren saw Saito take out 10,000 yen.

“Eh, this much…” Mikaela exclaimed, surprised.

Saito smiled.

“It’s for everyone after all.”

“But, is it really okay, to take 10,000 yen…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Now go on.”

“Okay! But if I was going to get that many sweets, it would’ve been good to have brought Akane-chan with me…”

Having said that, with sparkling eyes, the boy named Mikaela entered the supermarket.

“That’s why you are trying to get the sinful people who won’t join the 《Hyakuya Sect》, and therefore will die from the virus, to hurry and join?”

And thus,

“……”

Guren watched this with his arms crossed. Then, Guren’s gaze switched to watching the man called Saito.

Saito wore a black suit.

The man who had attacked Guren ten days earlier had worn the same black suit.

“……”

That is to say, that was the guy that tried to kill him in the elevator, the assassin from the《Hyakuya Sect》.

“Saito? Didn’t you say that your name was Kijima?”

The assassin smiled cordially at that.

“At the orphanage, I go as the kind Saito-san.”

“Hmm. So then is Kijima your real name?”

“I do not have a real name.”

“To put simply, you’re an assassin?”

“Yes.”

“Then, at that orphanage, you like playing the role of Daddy Long-Legs?”

“Haha, that’s what it looks like. Well then, knowing that I am such a kind Daddy Long-Legs, have you become interested in hearing what I have to say…”

“Nope.”

The assassin laughed at the interruption.

“Even so, please call me Saito-san while we’re here. If Mika-kun overheard, there would surely be some confusion.” He said.

With that, Guren glanced towards the supermarket where the boy named Mikaela had gone.

“And? What would you be using that kid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“The 《Hyakuya Sect》 is famous for their human

experimentation. Don’t try to say otherwise.”

“No no, that is a huge misunderstanding. In the end the 《Hyakuya Sect》administer the Hyakuya Orphanages as charitable work…”

“Then where did you come from?” Guren asked Saito.

“Who did that thing to your body? Where did that happen?

There’s no way you’re going to say something like your parents raised you in good health and with love, right?”

“……”

At that, Saito stopped smiling. He then replied in all seriousness,

“…You’re right. It’s certainly true that I came from the Hyakuya Orphanage. But I undertook the laboratory testing of my own free will, and obtained this body.”

“Huh, so brainwashing.”

Then, staring at Guren, Saito continued.

“No, I seriously think that the 《Hyakuya Sect》 wants to guide

this country to the right path. While Guren-sama may not be aware of this, if Japan continues down this path, the trumpet of the end will drag us into decay.”

Such strange things he said.

Still, Guren smiled and replied,

“Hah, so you’ve come out with it. The apocalypse, huh? That’s a signature move used against newcomers of a religion. If you do not believe, you won’t survive the apocalypse? Even we know how to use that kind of talk. So do the Hiiragis. There’s always something that resembles it in doctrines. But so what? By using that, did you think you’d be able to convert me?”

Guren asked.

Saito’s facial expression did not change, but regarded him seriously.

“That was not the meaning of what I said.”

“Then what is it?”

“In truth… if this continues, a virus will spread via an untouchable forbidden magic, who knows how rampantly it would spread, and the people of this world will find no place to live.”

“And, you’re saying that you guys are protecting us from that?”

“Yes.”

◆

Saito smiled and shook his head at that.

“No, as I said, I am not having this kind of conversion conversation. Even up til today, I didn’t have any intention to speak to you about these kind of things.”

“Ah? Then what do you want to speak to me about?”

To this question, Saito replied.

“About war. The one who made the virus is not God, but humans. And these are humans you know very well. The ones named Hiiragi.”

“Wha, that’s…”

Saito ignored that and continued,

“The 『Mikado no Oni』 who stole the seat of the National Magic Organization from the 《Hyakuya Sect》 has run wild, they are using the absolutely forbidden magic. That’s what we are frantically trying to prevent.”

“.........”

Saying this, the corners of Saito’s mouth lifted.

“Well? Don’t you think we have common interests?”

What a thing to say. Saito stretched out a hand towards Guren,

“So, won’t you join forces with us? Before the word ends, to attack the Hiiragi.”

He proposed.

Guren looked at his hand.

He said that the Hiiragi were going to destroy the world with the forbidden magic they got their hands on, and that they were trying to protect everyone from it.

And then, in the dawn of the era of the Hiiragi being destroyed,

“…The position of the Ichinose would rise.”

At that, Saito smiled and nodded his head.

“Of course. Since this about those who assisted the 《Haykuya Sect》 in making history, regarding the position currently occupied by the Hiiragi, it would be between the forces of 『Mikado no Oni』 and 『Mikado no Tsukki』.”

“Hmm. Well, then what? Are you offering an alliance with all of the Ichinose– no, all of the 『Mikado no Tsukki』?”

“Of course.”

“Then, why are you offering it to me? The Head of the

Ichinose House is–”

“Your father, is that right? However, your father is part of the

docile faction.”

At that, Guren smiled once again.

“Then, I’m the radical?”

Saito nodded his head apologetically.

“As I’ve said before, we have also done some investigations into the past. Including yours and your father’s. And so we made a choice regarding who would be the party to participate in this conversation with us.”

“You chose me?”

“Yes.”

“You thought that if it were me, I would readily accept?”

However, Saito shook his head.

“No. We did not think that. However, we thought that before it starts, we should at least say hello to you.”

Or so he said.

Before it all starts.

In other words,

“Even if you did not have the Ichinose, you intend to go to war?”

At that Saito shrugged his shoulders.

“The ones who started it are the Hiiragi though.”

“Besides, by telling me this much information, the start of that fierce struggle is fast approaching. ”

Smiling widely, Saito nodded.

“It is 10 days away. After 10 days, the 《Hyakuya Sect》 will go to war with the Hiiragi House.”

“10 days, huh. I will give you my reply then…”

“No, we need your answer now. If you do not join us today, then the plan for you to also be our enemy will be put into progress.”

Saito said, looking right at Guren.

Guren glared right back in return.

“That’s not happening. In the first place, if I don’t know the truth of what you are saying, how can I accept? Is the Hiiragi House really going wild with forbidden magic? Is it really necessary to stop them? Far from that, it’s also entirely possible that you guys the《Hyakuya Sect》 and the Hiiragis are teaming up to test the Ichinose. In these circumstances, you want me to immediately give you an answer? That is impossible.”

He responded.

However, Saito simply nodded his head, and,

“I see. Then negotiations have broken down.”

“No.”

“What is it? Did you want to join us? Please be decisive. To be honest, it doesn’t really matter whether you are a friend or foe…”

In other words, it is what it is.

If a war began, the more comrades the better.

Even so, they thought that with the power the Ichinose have, whether they have them or not, would not influence the battle at all.

That is a fact.

Nevertheless, the 《Hyakuya Sect》, is a bigger and more powerful organisation than the Hiiragi House, who had the Ichinose under their submission. Of course there was no need for them to bow their head and beg for the Ichinose’s help.

At the end of the day, before the fight would begin, they just came by to say hello. If the Ichinose did not join, then they would be destroyed together with the Hiiragi.

That’s why in Guren’s mind, he was furiously wondering how to best act. What was the best method to ensure a future where the Ichinose House wouldn’t be destroyed. A method to ensure a future where those that belonged to the 『Mikado no Tsukki』would not be destroyed.

Right now, with the answer he had to give, there was a possibility that everything could change.

In that case, what was the best thing to do?

What was the best way for him to move?

As Guren was forming those thoughts in his head, he replied.

“At least, give me an hour to consider.”

“I cannot.”

Saito rejected.

At that, Guren narrowed his eyes.

“Then my answer is ‘No’. I won’t join forces with an organization that w

That night, Guren wrote to his family.

About the contact the《Hyakuya Sect》made.

About how the Hiiragis would run wild, and how it was possible that they would cause the destruction of the world with a virus. About how a war between the Hyakuya Church and the Hiiragi House will begin in ten days.

About how he rejected the 《Hyakuya Sect》’s proposal.

~CHAPTER 5 PART 2 END~

The letter would reach home the same day. Regarding such an important issue, not just the Ichinose, but all of the 『Mikado no Tsukki』 would gather to discuss how to act.

They would begin to gather information to verify the truth of Saito’s words.

Such a large job would take 3 days to complete. And then afterwards it would take a week to make preparations.

But, if what Saito said was the truth, then there was no time left to act at a leisurely pace.

It was possible that a war as going to start.

Furthermore, it was a war that could possibly destroy the whole of Japan―

Then, how should he personally deal with such a war.

“No, we need to carefully consider the best things to do during this chaos”

That night, Guren tossed and turned, thinking about such things.

T/N: I don’t even know where to begin with the apologies or the excuses... but it is finally here!

<<Chapter 5 Part 1 || Chapter 6 >>

#owari no seraph #ichinose guren's catastrophe at 16 #ichinose guren #saito #mikaela hyakuya #shigure yukimi #sayuri hanayori #mushroom translates #guren ln

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llogllady99 · 3 years ago

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Au revoir

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.”

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

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magicaththedemigod · 4 years ago

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an extensive analysis of “the song of achilles” by madeline miller

Or: things I noticed and couldn't keep to myself.

Because I just finished reading it and have many feelings about it, I've decided to compile all of them into a very lengthy Tumblr post.

This will be broken up into three parts:

1. Foreshadowing

2. Dramatic (and regular) Irony

3. Fatal Flaws

1. Foreshadowing

Miller does such a delightful job with foreshadowing. The number of quotes I could be spitting at you right now... but I digress. The main job of foreshadowing, especially in a tragedy like "The Song of Achilles," is to set the characters up for their tragedy.

What I like most about how Miller goes about it in this book is that she doesn't attempt to pull a shocking twist out of nowhere; instead, she takes an approach which allows the reader to fully marinate in their despair.

For example, this quote:

Achilles shook his head, impatiently. "But this was a greater punishment for her. It was not fair of them." "There is no law that gods must be fair, Achilles," Chiron said. "And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?"

Let's take a moment and unpack some of this. For context, this is a conversation between Patroclus, Achilles, and their mentor Chiron. They're discussing the tale of Heracles, who's driven to madness and ends up killing his own wife and kids.

From reading the book, (SPOILER ALERT) you know that Achilles' own pride and honor end up forcing Patroclus to impersonate him in order to save the Greek army, and in doing so is killed by Hector. The fact that Chiron directs this question, "And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?" to Achilles, who is left behind after Patroclus' death is such delightful foreshadowing that I almost threw the book across the room when I first read it.

Achilles slumps into such a depression after Patroclus dies (really, after he kills Patroclus with his own fatal flaw), that he even loses the ability to care about his fame or honor anymore. He feels the greater grief, so to speak.

Even after he dies, Patroclus is left behind, unable to rest properly because they never put his name on the tomb. In that sense, Patroclus is then the one left behind, experiencing loneliness and grief.

The book is full of little hints like this, and that's part of why it's almost torture to read as someone who knows how the Iliad goes. As I said before: the foreshadowing in this book is meant to have the reader in pain from the beginning because you know nothing is going to work out in the end.

2. Dramatic (and regular) Irony

Yes, that's right. I'm about to rip into your soul.

Probably one of the biggest parts of classical Greek myths is dramatic irony (the audience knowing something the characters don't). In plays, the ending is almost always announced before the play begins. In fact, the audience most likely already knows the story from previous tellings or just general knowledge. It makes sense that it would be one of the biggest players in "The Song of Achilles."

As usual, let's start with a quote:

His eyes opened. "Name one hero who was happy." I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason's children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus' back. "You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward. "I can't." "I know. They never let you be famous and happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret." "Tell me." I loved it when he was like this. "I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it." "Why me?" "Because you're the reason. Swear it." "I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes. "I swear it," he echoed. We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned. "I feel like I could eat the world raw."

First of all: cute. Second of all: wow, so much pain.

As you know, Achilles is the opposite of happy at the end of the book (well, maybe after they die, but we'll get to that later). Though he swears it here with Patroclus, the two of them make decisions that ultimately lead to their downfall: Achilles decides to abandon the Greeks after they slighted his honor, Patroclus decides to help them even if it means risking his life, and Achilles lets him do it.

So let's talk about dramatic irony. The irony here is that you know, maybe just from this exchange alone, that Achilles isn't going to be the first happy hero. You know there is a war coming, know that Achilles and his famous heel will get himself killed. You might also know at this point that Patroclus will die first and send Achilles spiraling into grief before that happens.

It's painful, truly. Achilles spends his last days in utter agony, wanting to die but unable to kill himself, and Patroclus can only watch on as a ghost (spirit?). Even when Achilles does die and his ashes are put into their urn (seriously, how did any scholar ever think they weren't lovers?), they still have to wait to be reunited.

But there's still more. Consider these lines:

Hector's eyes are wide, but he will run no longer. He says, "Grant me this. Give my body to my family, when you have killed me." Achilles makes a sound like choking. "There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw."

Sound familiar? That's right: "I will kill you and eat you raw" sounds an awful lot like "I feel like I could eat the world raw," doesn't it? Another parallel from Miller: one from a time of happiness, the other from a time of extreme grief. However painful it is, I really live for connections like that.

And I've got one more for you:

Achilles shook his head. "Never. He is brave and strong, but that is all. He would break against Hector like water on a rock. So. It is me, or no one." "You will not do it." I tried not to let it sound like begging. "No." He was quiet a moment. "But I can see it. That's the strange thing. Like in a dream. I can see myself throwing the spear, see him fall. I walk up to the body and stand over it." Dread rose in my chest. I took a breath, forced it away. "And then what?" "That's the strangest of all. I look down at his blood and know my death is coming. But in the dream I do not mind. What I feel, most of all, is relief." "Do you think it can be prophecy?" The questions seemed to make him self-conscious. He shook his head. "No. I think it is nothing at all. A daydream." I forced my voice to match his in lightness. "I'm sure you're right. After all, Hector hasn't done anything to you."

See where I'm going with this? I don't think I need to explain this one.

3. Fatal Flaws

That's right, one of the most essential pieces for a tragedy: hamartia. For those who might not know, hamartia is the fatal flaw that ultimately leads to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine. In every single piece of classical greek writing, if the story is a tragedy, the main character will have a fatal flaw that makes it so.

Take Achilles:

I looked at the stone of his face, and despaired. “If you love me-”

“No!” His face was stiff with tension. “I cannot! If I yield, Agamemnon can dishonor me whenever he wishes. The kings will not respect me, nor the men!” He was breathless, as though he had run far. “Do you think I wish them all to die? But I cannot. I cannot! I will not let them take this from me!”

You probably already know what his fatal flaw is: pride. He needs the fame, needs the glorious memory of his deeds to live on forever, so badly that he is willing to sacrifice his life and what might’ve been a fulfilling and long life with Patroclus out of the limelight. His fatal flaw is what spurs each of his actions in the later half of the book, including the moment where he decides to leave the Greeks to their deaths for slandering him.

Even Patroclus has a fatal flaw: his love for Achilles.

That night I lay in bed beside Achilles. His face is innocent, sleep-smoothed and sweetly boyish. I love to see it. This is his truest self, earnest and guileless, full of mischief but without malice. He is lost in Agamemnon and Odysseus’ wily double meanings, their lies and games of power. They have confounded him, tied him to a stake and baited him. I stroke the soft skin of his forehead. I would untie him if I could. If he would let me.

Though riding into the center of the fighting, especially dressed as Achilles, will make Patroclus the prime target, he decides to do it anyway. And not out of fear for Achilles’s life; he knows how important his pride and reputation is to him, and out of desperation will do anything to keep Achilles from being devastated when it doesn’t work out for him.

(Honestly, this is the part where I start to hate Achilles for doing this to Patroclus... it’s like he doesn’t even consider Patroclus his equal and does everything without consulting him.)

Of course, Agamemnon has a fatal flaw as well. He is like the mirror image of Achilles, so proud and stubborn, righteous and arrogant. However, he is the darker image, the one that revels in taking things by force and, of course, raping women like Briseis. He serves as a poignant foil for Achilles, highlighting all the ways the traits they share can easily become corrupted. It’s part of why this novel works so well.

I hope you all enjoyed this book as much as I did. Truthfully, I did have a few problems with it, but I wanted to trying picking it apart anyway. And if you haven’t read the song of achilles... what are you doing reading these spoilers??

#why can you visibly see where i get tired #achilles #greek myth aesthetic #analysis #patroclus #song of achilles #greece #greek posts #not the language though #this is so long #effort #first time ive ever wanted to write an essay #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #this took me three days #greek mythology #iliad #homer

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iamthenightcolormeblack · 3 years ago

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Pride and Prejudice 1940: "When Pretty Girls T-E-A-S-E-D Men Into Marriage"

Made during the Great Depression, this classic black and white film is loosely based on Austen's novel and is set in what is likely the 1830s rather than the Regency Era (late 18th century to early 19th century). It is an escapist piece which capitalizes on nostalgia for a simpler time by transporting its viewers to a chocolate-box vision of the past, while paying homage to Austen's social satire by delivering plenty of laughs along the way.

Overall Thoughts on the Film:

The first time I watched this movie, I was confused because the plot as well as the setting was revised significantly (the events after Darcy's first proposal are changed to hasten the happy ending; Darcy's letter and Elizabeth's visit to Pemberley are not included in this movie). This changing of plot points makes the 2005 movie a much more faithful adaptation in comparison with this version, in spite of the creative liberties both take with the novel.

Production Design:

The movie is a typical example of Golden Age Hollywood productions, with beautiful actresses and melodramatic flourishes added to increase the drama. Some of the lines are delivered very quickly, in keeping with the comedic style of the time.

The music: definitely not historically accurate. A lot of sentimental, "ye olde timey" string arrangements that emphasize emotions or fast-paced waltz music for balls/parties.

The 1830s costumes are beautiful; it seems as if no expense (or quantity of fabric) was spared in making them. The bonnets are way taller and have more decorations than typical 1830s bonnets. Some of the patterns/fabric choices are very 1930s, and the costumes are exaggerated in such as way as to make the wearers look like fancy turkeys.

Hair and Makeup: very 1930s, with finger/sausage curls, plucked eyebrows, lipstick/lip makeup, and long lashes.

The sets: the dollhouse-like interiors are lavishly gilded and made to look as opulent as possible. Outdoors scenes are lush, with lots of flowers and bushes; the garden in which the second proposal takes place is gorgeous. The set design transports the viewer into an idyllic vision of the bucolic English countryside.

The Lead Actors:

With the exception of Laurence Olivier, the majority of the actors are American, since this is a Hollywood production. Many of the characters in the film's imaginary vision of pastoral Britain speak American or make clumsy attempts to imitate British English.

Greer Garson: while she is definitely too old for the part, she perfectly conveys Elizabeth's intelligence, outspokenness, and sarcasm. Her facial expressions are killer as well; with the arch of an eyebrow along with a snarky side eye, she captivates us all. All in all, Garson effectively shows off Elizabeth's impertinence through her nonverbal acting (this reminds me strongly of Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth Bennet).

Laurence Olivier: he effectively conveys Darcy's pride while hinting at his deeper feelings beneath the surface (I can see why Colin Firth spoke so highly of Olivier's portrayal of Darcy). Most importantly, the film emphasizes Darcy's intelligence; he is certainly Elizabeth's intellectual equal. While this portrayal of Darcy is very accurate to the book, Darcy's pride does go away pretty quickly (he and Elizabeth form a tentative friendship early on) and his social awkwardness isn't immediately obvious thanks to his charm. Also the unflattering hairstyle with the greasy hair and painted on sideburns makes me sad.

Key Scenes:

Opening scene: The title card appeals directly to the audience's nostalgia for a sentimental, romanticized past: “It happened in OLD ENGLAND (this was actually capitalized), in the village of Meryton…” The Bennet women are at a fabric shop, where they gossip with aunt Phillips about the rich people moving into Netherfield Park.

The carriage race: this scene, which isn’t in the original novel, represents the rivalry between the Bennets and Lucases. The mothers both want their daughters to be the first to snag the rich bachelors.

The first ball: There is a historical anachronism as the music is a waltz by Strauss, who became popular in late 19th century, specifically the Gilded Age; far too early for the Regency Era or 1830s England. Other changes from the original novel include Elizabeth meeting Wickham before Darcy; other events from Aunt Phillips’ ball (which isn’t included in this movie) and Wickham and Darcy’s confrontation are included in this scene.

Elizabeth’s impression of Darcy at the ball: she puts on airs and mocks his casual dismissal of her as tolerable (definitely a parallel with the 1995 version, where Jennifer Ehle does the same, but privately with Jane).

Great comedic change: Darcy introduces himself to Elizabeth after calling her tolerable and asks if she will dance with him (this originally takes place at Mr. Lucas' ball). Right after rejecting Darcy, she instantly agrees to dance with Wickham; in a humorous moment, Darcy evacuates to a corner of the room to sulk while seeing Wickham dance with Elizabeth.

The “Accomplished woman” scene: the dialogue lifted directly from the book for the most part. Darcy, in a departure from his trademark seriousness, shows off his playful side when reacting to Caroline Bingley's "turn about the room." I particularly like this added repartee from Elizabeth Bennet to Darcy, which is clever but also foreshadows her prejudice: “If my departure is any punishment, you are quite right. My character reading is not too brilliant.”

Elizabeth can't stand Mr. Collins: After twirling about his monocle, he pronounces that: “It might interest you to know my taste was formed by lady Catherine de Bourgh.” The best part of this scene is when Elizabeth plucks a wrong note on her harp when Collins gets really annoying.

The Netherfield ball (which is now a garden party):

Elizabeth running away from Mr. Collins: She looks rather ridiculous, almost like an overdressed turkey, in a white dress with puffy sleeves as she runs away from an overeager Collins. Then she hides in the bushes while Darcy helps her to hide, telling Collins he doesn't know where she is. It's fun but most likely not something a proper lady and gentleman would do (two people of the opposite gender out alone, shock!).

The archery scene: Darcy attempts to teach Elizabeth how to shoot a bow and arrow, even though he doesn’t hit the bullseye. She goes on to impress him by perfectly hitting the bullseye every time; Darcy learns his lesson: "Next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won't be so patronizing." Caroline Bingley, very passive aggressive as usual, shows up for her archery lesson right after and it's absolutely perfect.

Mr. Collins attempts to introduce himself to Mr. Darcy: Laurence Olivier captures Darcy so perfectly in this scene (really set the precedent for Colin Firth). When Mr. Collins starts talking (inviting Elizabeth to dance with him) Darcy tries to keep himself well-composed but has a pained expression on his face as if he’s about to pass out. Olivier masters the way Darcy can look so miserable but also disgusted and proud at the same time.

Mr. Collin's proposal to Elizabeth: I like the added touch of Mrs. Bennet pulling Elizabeth back by her skirt when she tries to run out of the room. The dialogue is taken directly from the book, and the scene is made even funnier when Collins holds on to Elizabeth's hand desperately and doesn’t let her get away. My only quibble is that Elizabeth isn’t indignant enough when Mr. Collins doesn't take no for an answer.

Elizabeth and Darcy at Rosings: I like that Olivier subtly indicates that Darcy is clearly affected upon seeing Elizabeth at Rosing, hinting at deeper feelings beneath the surface. I also like how the scriptwriter emphasizes that Darcy indirectly praises Elizabeth and enjoys their conversations, while she remains convinced that he hates her. Sadly, the original dialogue of the piano scene is not included, which is unfortunate as it allows Darcy to reveal his introvert tendencies, calling into question Elizabeth's assertion that he is unpardonably proud.

First proposal: The famous opening lines are mutilated with awkward punctuation: “It’s no use. I’ve struggled in vain. I must tell you how much I admire and love you." While the rest of the dialogue matches up closely with what happens in Austen's novel, both of the actors aren’t emotional enough; instead Elizabeth cries very daintily, and Darcy remains serene, which conflicts with the book's description of both of them being very angry and defensive at each other.

THE SCRIPT:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follows the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

Brilliant Quotes:

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Mrs. Bennet's despair over the situation of their 5 unmarried daughters: “Perhaps we should have drowned some of them at birth.”

Darcy insists Elizabeth cannot tempt him: “Ugh. Provincial young lady with a lively wit. And there’s that mother of hers.”

Darcy is an arrogant snob: “I’m in no humor tonight to give consequence to the middle classes at play.” (Technically the Bennets are part of the gentry; they just are less wealthy than Darcy).

Elizabeth's reaction to Darcy pronouncing her to be tolerable at best: “What a charming man!”

Elizabeth rebuffs Darcy's offer to dance after overhearing his insult: “I am afraid that the honor of standing up with you is more than I can bear, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth favors Wickham after witnessing the bad blood between him and Darcy: “Without knowing anything about it I am on your side.”

Mrs. Bennet's comment after she sends Jane to Netherfield under stormy skies: “There isn’t anything like wet weather for engagements. Your dear father and I became engaged in a thunderstorm.”

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Jane's fever: “Jane must have all the credit for having caught the cold…we’re hoping Elizabeth will catch a cold and stay long enough to get engaged to Mr. Darcy. And if a good snowstorm could be arranged we’d send Kitty over!”

The sisters' description of Mr. Collins: “Oh heavens! what a pudding face.”

Caroline Bingley at the Netherfield garden party: “Entertaining the rustics is not as difficult as I feared. Any simple childish game seems to amuse them excessively.”

Darcy reassuring Elizabeth after helping her escape Mr. Collins: “If the dragon returns St. George will know how to deal with it.”

Darcy learns his lesson after Elizabeth beats him at archery: “The next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won’t be so patronizing.”

Elizabeth comments about a curtain: “Oh that’s pretty. It’s a pity you didn’t make it bigger. You could have put it around Mr. Collins when he becomes a bore.”

Elizabeth on Kitty and Lydia: “2 daughters out of 5, that represents 40% of the noise.”

Elizabeth sees Lady Catherine for the first time: “So that’s the great lady Catherine. Now I see where he learned his manners.”

Lady Catherine's attitude towards philanthropy: “You must learn to draw a firm line between the deserving poor and the undeserving poor.”

Darcy takes Elizabeth's advice: “I’ve thought a great deal about what you said at Netherfield, about laughing more...but it only makes me feel worse."

Elizabeth and Darcy have a conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam: “He likes the landscape well enough, but the natives, the natives, what boors, what savages … Isn’t that what you think, Mr. Darcy?” With a smile: “It evidently amuses you to think so, Miss Bennet."

CHANGES FROM THE BOOK:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follow the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

With the exception of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the portrayals of the characters are (generally) true to the book.

As I said earlier, the film neglects any sort of historical accuracy when setting the story in romanticized "Old England," where genteel people pass simple lives that revolve around dresses, tea parties, social gossip, and marriages. A lot of Austen adaptations present an idealized vision of Regency life, where people are dressed immaculately, flawlessly adhere to "chivalry," and find love in the ballroom. This contributes to the misconception that Austen's novels are shallow chick-lit books with flat characters who live for lavish parties and hot men, instead of stories of unique, complicated women who happen to be well-off but aspire towards love, respect, or independence instead of being content to make economically advantageous marriages. Austen's novels are character novels and she doesn't waste time writing about dresses or tea parties; balls, while exciting, are just another part of daily life for her characters rather than some Extremely Big Special Once In a Blue Moon Event.

Austen's multifaceted view on marriage turns into a game of matchmaking. She recognizes it as necessary for women to survive in the patriarchy, since they cannot provide for themselves unless they marry well, but at the same time, presents marriage as a means for freedom if it is a loving partnership between two people that respect each other. In contrast, marriage is a game of manipulating the partners into wanting to marry (ex. Lady Catherine and Darcy's trickery). Also, it seems to be a given that Elizabeth will marry for love, unlike in the book where it is uncertain whether she will achieve this.

Kitty and Lydia's antics are viewed much more sympathetically as those of young people having fun; in the book, their behavior harms the family's social reputation, reducing the chances the Bennet daughters have of making good marriages.

Louisa Hurst, Georgiana Darcy, and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are not in the movie.

Wickham is introduced much earlier than in the book; he is friends with Lydia from the very beginning. Interestingly, he doesn't begin to trash-talk Darcy until Bingley leaves; in the book he does so much earlier, before the Netherfield ball.

Darcy is more considerate towards Elizabeth at the Netherfield party (ex. rescuing her from Collins), until he overhears Mrs. Bennet scheming to get the daughters married. Elizabeth forms a tentative friendship with him until finding out that he separated Jane from Bingley.

Jane is more obviously heartbroken over Bingley's departure than in the book, where she keeps her pain to herself. In the movie, she runs away to cry, which is uncharacteristic of her.

Collins is a librarian instead of a clergyman. I dislike this change because some Austen scholars/fans think that Collins being a clergyman is a deliberate choice as part of Austen's social criticism. Collins is representative of how hypocritical the Church is, since he worships Lady Catherine's wealth instead of God, and preaches moral lessons instead of actually using religion to help people. My theory is that the change was made because of the Hays Code, which led to the censorship of movies for "unwholesome" or "indecent" things; the religious criticism could have been offensive.

Elizabeth reacts rather too kindly to Charlotte marrying Collins by showing concern for the loveless marriage. While she does worry about the lack of love in the marriage, initially she is extremely surprised, outright shocked, and confused.

The scene where Darcy tries and fails to talk to Elizabeth (the "charming house" scene in the 2005 movie) just before the proposal is removed.

Darcy's letter is skipped over and Elizabeth overcomes her prejudice of Darcy very quickly, as shown when she tells Jane she regrets rejecting his proposal. This is contrary to the book, where overcoming her prejudice is an emotionally exhausting and slow process that continues all the way up until the second proposal.

The Pemberley visit is removed; instead, Elizabeth returns home to the news that Lydia has eloped. Visiting Pemberley is very important as part of Elizabeth's re-evaluation of Darcy's character and provides an opportunity for Darcy to show Elizabeth that he has changed for her. The visit is key in increasing Elizabeth's love for Darcy, and removing it means that the characters have less personal growth (also wouldn't it have been great for the audience to be treated to another gorgeous estate of "Old England?"). Instead, Darcy visits Longbourn on his own and offers his help in finding Lydia. When the news comes that Wickham accepts very little money in exchange for marrying Lydia, it isn't as shocking as it is in the book because Darcy had already expressed his intentions of helping Elizabeth earlier.

Here's the change that bugs me the most: Lady Catherine becomes good; though she is a busybody, her main priority is Darcy's happiness. Her confrontation of Elizabeth is a scheme hatched between her and Darcy as a test to be certain of Elizabeth's love. This does not make sense on so many levels: first, Darcy insists that "disguise of every sort is my abhorrence," so why would he resort to trickery, however well-intentioned, to find out if Elizabeth still loves him? Second, Lady Catherine is a social snob and objects to Elizabeth's low connections; also she has an arranged marriage planned for Darcy. Third, in the book, because Elizabeth likes Pemberley and gets along really well with his sister Georgiana, Darcy would have had some evidence that Elizabeth, in the very least, cared for him. And the added claim that Lady Catherine approves of Elizabeth because she likes rudeness and thinks Darcy needs a humorous wife irritates me further because the marriage of Elizabeth and Darcy is revolutionary since it was made in defiance of societal rules!!! Why, why, why in the name of comedy did they have to do this?!

Darcy kisses Elizabeth (in a stagey and melodramatic way) after she accepts his second proposal. Seems a bit uncharacteristic of him.

All the sisters get married at the end. Happily ever after.

CONCLUSION

This movie certainly was not aiming for faithfulness to Austen's novel; it ignores her detailed portrait of Regency era society and its attitudes and focuses on the "light, bright, and sparkling" aspect of Pride and Prejudice that gives the story its timeless appeal.

All in all, this comedy of manners is definitely a classic thanks to the clever dialogue and jokes within the script, along with some great acting.

@appleinducedsleep @dahlia-coccinea @princesssarisa @colonelfitzwilliams @austengivesmeserotonin

#pride and prejudice 1940 #pride and prejudice #pride and predjudice #jane austen #movies #movie review #laurence olivier #classic movies #we stan p&p 1940

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astrablossom · 4 years ago

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Fairy MC Headcanons with Brothers and Undateables SFW & NSFW

*Gender is not specified

Lucifer: You probably met him one day when Diavolo asked him to search for a certain kind of flower located deep in the Devildom woods.

As it turns out the flower was actually your home and Lucifer was surprised when he sees a very naked fairy squeaking in his face, looking rather upset. Eventually after much consideration he offers for you to stay in The House of Lamentation. He forces you to wear some type of clothing despite your complaints. At first he isn't very keen to having you in his ear constantly but you prove useful when you can spy on his brothers.

NSFW: Fairies often times prefer to be in the nude, it's natural to them. So when he catches you naked he is quick to punish you. Will tie your body up with crazy precision and spreads your legs open. Will poke your sex around with a safe tool and watch you come undone on his table. His red eyes examine your body the whole time.

Mammon: When Lucifer brought you in he didn't think much of it. It wasn't until he realized you were squealing on him to Lucifer that he got annoyed. Be prepared for him to use you in quick-fix money schemes. He might ask you to bust into Diavolo's castle because you're super tiny. Eventually you two become good friends and he finds you really cute when you take naps in his hair. Will avert his eyes if he sees you naked. You are also someone he can talk too when he feels down in the dumps and appreciates when you just listen to him.

NSFW: It's funny how a tiny fairy has so much power over this avatar. He really likes when you sit down on his face and allow him to eat you out. Likes when you praise him for how big his tongue is. If you're elf size he enjoys watching you trying to suck his dick in one go. He kind of likes coating you head to toe in his spunk and watching you lick it up.

Leviathan: It takes awhile before he starts talking to you and if you're a delivery fairy he'll thank you sometimes for delivering his packages. Will definitely ask you to dress up as Ruri-Chan. You're the perfect size and you look like a limited edition with your wings! Likes when you cheer him on during his games. He once posted a picture of you scarfing down a grape with the hashtag #gremlinfairy.

NSFW: What that tongue do though. And the tail. If you talk it out and reassure him that he won't hurt you he'll wrap his tail around you and lift your tiny body in the air as he pushes his tongue into you. A forked tongue feels different because he can flick it with accuracy. Will have you cumming in minutes. He might take photos to stash away. If you try to pleasure him go for his nipples and he'll be putty in your hands.

Satan: Very curious about meeting you. He's seen his fair share of fairies but now he is living with one. You two are reading buddies and sometimes you'll take turns reading a book. You'll make book sessions on Friday, Satan with a copy in his hand and you sitting on a nearby table with a big copy in front of you. He finds it adorable when you have to stand up to turn the whole page. At times he'll let you read on his shoulder.

NSFW: Will ask for you to reenact some scene from his favorite novels concerning a fairy and a being from hell. Has you dressed up in the same outfit describe in the book and you speak your lines, watching Satan slowly approaching you on the bed. It's honestly intimidating. He uses his teeth to shred your clothes and will press his finger into you as you two reenact the lewd scene. You were so so tiny, he thinks he might have a size kink. Likes when you kiss him too. Even if they size difference is evident the sessions are more hot.

Asmodeus: Find you extremely adorable and vouches with you for Lucifer to lift the nude ban. He likes dressing you up in all sorts of outfits and takes you shopping a lot. Enjoys poking your cheek and feeding you food. The both of you take baths together and he thinks it cute seeing a tiny fairy swimming in his bath. Will probably post pictures of you on his Devilgram. When you paint his nails it's so accurate and he sobs over it.

NSFW: Will ask if you take nude photos with him. Not for lewd reason but because he knows you're comfortable like that. He believes nudity is a art in it's own right and with the help of Mammon you two will have a private photoshoot. One photo Asmodeus likes the most is with you peeking behind a rose meanwhile his intimate parts are littered with it, him looking up the air. You both look amazing and make the front cover of the Devildom equivalent of Vogue. (Douge? Devouge? Devilouge?)

Beelzebub: Someone's been eating his food. And whenever he looks at it, it's always small nibbles so he knows it isn't his brothers. One night when he goes to eat a midnight snack he finds you in the fridge head deep in one of his puddings. At first he is upset but when he sees you looking up at him with the puppy eyes he let's you off with a warning. You start to see little treats being left around for you. Will also give you rides on his head. If you go to his games he can't hear you cheer but he knows you're there.

NSFW: Afriad he'll accidentally eat you so you have to get a little bigger before he does anything. He doesn't have a size kink per say but there is something very cute about him pushing you back till your toes are above your head and sinking his cock into you that makes him blush. The size difference is crazy and the faces you make makes him more eager to screw you into the sheets. When he is done he leaves a huge gaping hole in you, cum oozing out and it reminds him of frosting. Now he's hungry again. Expect snacks in bed after cleanup.

Belphegor: Finds you incredibly annoying, especially when you accidentally knock something down and wake him from his nap. You have to steer clear of him for a bit. However there was this one time he was going to sleep in the living room only to see you asleep on top of a pillow, snoozing away. You looked super comfortable and he smirks before yelling in your ear. The bastard chuckles when you start screaming at him to apologize, pulling his cheek as to try and inflict pain.

NSFW: The bratty demon is lazy as fuck so you'll have to do the work. He'll keep his tongue out, occasionally sucking as you try to find release on his face. However if you catch him in breeding season you have to become elf size because he will grab you and lock himself in the attic with you. The amount of energy he has is crazy and so is the look in his eyes. Will continuously pound into you in front a mirror, growing in your ear at how his cock is making a indent in your stomach. When he cums he cums. This dude is so backed up and will have cum oozing out of all your holes. And then he will probably eat it out of you. That's the only time he gets super active. Other times you can try waking him up with a little suck to his morning wood.

Diavolo: Constantly always looking around for you because he can hear your voice but you're so tiny it takes a while for him to see you. When he busy with a lot of paper work, you'll quietly fly in with a tea bag in your hand and buzz around making tea before landing upside down on his nose, reminding him to take a break. You'll sprinkle a bit of fairy dust from your wings to make it taste sweeter and he thanks you for that.

You once called him out for staring at Simeon's hips too long and he doesn't even feel embarrassed. He is simply enjoying the view.

NSFW: Haha. Big dick energy to the rescue. Will you be able to walk after this? One time he shoved himself too fast and you came from just the pressure alone. He likes to adorn you with his riches, admiring how some of it slinks over your tiny form and will ask you to masturbate for him. Even if he's doing work he is watching you so don't you dare stop. He demands for you to spread your legs and will have little mirrors set before you so he can see you from all angles. When you do cum it's all over his riches and he gets a high from knowing you are his. If you're elf size you can only fit the tip in your mouth, you gotta use your whole body to get him off and he have you doing this even during work hours. You're like a koala wrapped around his monster dick.

Barbatos: You two barely talk beyond basic greetings but sometimes you'll help in the kitchen, flying down ingredients and taste testing for him. If you two are having a tea break he'll make sure to have a tiny tea cup just for you. Smiles when you eat the strawberry blood biscuits he made while you converse about non practical things.

NSFW: He doesn't have a lot of free time so the most you two can do is quick make out sessions which ends with you having to deal with his erection. Barbatos makes soft fluttery moans to your surprise and cums a lot from being backed up. He'll apologize if he gets too much on you but be prepared for his day off, he pay you back tenfold.

Solomon: Shady boy here just like Satan finds you interesting and will poke at you to tell him more about your species. He lets you lay on his hair for naps. Will bottle your fairy dust for later use and introduces you to Luke and Simeon. There was this one time you followed him to one of his meetings concerning his pact and never did you looked at him the same way again.

NSFW: Being around demons and angels does a little number to his ego so please talk about how big his dick is if you catch on. Will probably whip up a spell so you're human size and can get down properly. Although he isn't the biggest he makes up in technique. He really likes when you wear his robes and surprisingly likes when you try to cover your mouth not to moan. It means he's doing a job well done.

Simeon: Very kind and sweet to you and makes his famous BLT devil sandwich which was a blessing. You two will often joke about Lucifer and Diavolo and- oh is his cheeks getting a bit warm? There is something in his eyes you can't pinpoint when he talks about his time with Lucifer. Sometimes you watch movies with him. He'll have a bucket of popcorn meanwhile you have a kernel in your lap.

When you called out Diavolo for staring at him he gets slightly flustered and looks away abashed. He misses the smirk Diavolo shoots him and you catch on quickly.

NSFW: Catch him praying that he doesn't become fallen for committing such sinful deeds. Very vanilla and is always asking how you feel. When he pressed his tongue against you, you can see how concentrated he is. If you're pleasing him he lets out small sighs and praises you immensely. Occasionally you'll hear him saying "forgive me."

Bonus!

Luke (SFW Only): You two become friends immediately. The puffiness of his hat amazes you and you like to sit on it although he complains. Will give him fairy recipes and aid him in cooking. His cheeks are so adorable and you find yourself pinching them which feel weird to him. If you complain about the brothers he'll feel pity for you.

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mythiica · 4 years ago

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amber astrolabe | ikevam | leonardo

The museum looms in front of you, practically swallowing you with its grand glory as it reaches for the sky. Sunlight sparkles in the new windows, yet to be touched by peoples’ hands as they stare into the street. Even from the outside, you can see the top of the arched glass roof letting natural light pour in.

You remember it when it was the train station and how you would sneak past the guards to climb the stairs hidden behind the walls. Tipping your head back, you squint hard against the bright sun to spot the window of your old room on the top floor.

It’s a bad idea to return to the museum– this beautiful building hosts so many memories that are not as wonderful. Still, against your better judgement, you pay your admission ticket like any other tourist that clamours through the doors of the Musée d'Orsay before melting into the crowd.

In honor of the museum's grand opening, more people have gathered to see the new displays for themselves. You were specifically interested in the exhibit that you had read about in the newspaper a few days prior. After nearly five decades, the lost works of a famous artist have resurfaced. A trove of sketches – namely hundreds of half-finished drawings of an unknown woman. Pieces of her face were scattered across blueprints, hidden on the backs of oil paintings, and even etched into the lacquer of strange wooden contraptions.

You walk past the main exhibit, not really having an interest in seeing the Mona Lisa again. Still, the painting smiles at you from over the churning sea of heads, as if she knows something you do not.

Now in the traveling exhibit, you take your time, pacing around to admire the art. You marvel at the broken wing of a plane that did not survive a test run, awe at the elaborate blueprint of a flying machine with gold sails, and even laugh at the obligatory comedic comment that this mystery artist must have had an obsession with someone.

However, from the corner of your eye, you notice something glinting in the spotlight just a few meters away. As you approach it, you can’t help but be a tad bit sad to see that it has lost its original shine over the years – in fact, you had held the astrolabe when it was brand new. The hands of the device point towards the end of the exhibit just beyond the corner, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you search your memory, thinking hard to collect the pieces of the past before you can fall against the events that transpired nearly a lifetime ago.

“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.”

“If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!”

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.”

Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!”

“No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.”

“Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?”

When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his.

The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing.

He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first.

What a gentleman.

Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks.

Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body. Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing.

“This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.”

You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness.

“I see.”

“Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more.

“Is… is that Venus?”

“It is!”

You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.”

“Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly?

Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?”

A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.”

“I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”

He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…”

You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?”

He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?”

“Of course.”

“A moment, if you please.”

Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you.

“I don’t understand,” you tell him.

“Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.”

You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!”

“Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!”

The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.”

The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them.

Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state.

A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before.

As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed.

Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through.

A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions.

Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all.

It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you.

The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her.

In the bottom corner, you see a plaque:

Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...

You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind.

Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together.

Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all.

Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her.

I’ll meet you again, Leonardo.

I’ll meet you at Sirius.

#ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam leonardo #ikevam x reader #ikevam leonardo x reader #cybird #otome

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Treat Your S(h)elf: The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

We’re going to survive - our songs, our stories. They’ll never be able to forget us. Decades after the last man who fought at Troy is dead, their sons will remember the songs their Trojan mothers sang to them. We’ll be in their dreams - and in their worst nightmares too.

- Pat Barker, The Silence of the Girls

“It’s always hard on women, when a city falls.” Briseis, former princess of the Trojan city of Lyrnessus, has been Achilles’s slave for several months when someone she knew in her old life says these words. From the ancient world to our modern world there is this ugly and unspoken line of rape as a weapon of war. History is replete with examples. In the 20th-century where Nazis raped Jewish women despite soldiers' concerns with "race defilement" and raped countless women in their path as they invaded the Soviet Union and then in Berlin 1945 Russians in turn went on a brutal raping spree to punish the Germans. In the bloody Balkan wars in the 1990s, Serbian forces tortured and summarily executed scores of Muslims and Croats. In the Iraq war and the many conflicts in Africa in the 21st Century, rape is systemically used to subdue a defeated enemy. History shows the ugly truth that women’s bodies have always been viewed as the spoils of conflicts waged primarily by men.

The issue of rape in war is something that has always sat uncomfortably with me ever since I did my stint as an army combat helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. From my high vantage point I felt a detachment from the electronic battlefield - for everything was viscerally seen from my helmeted eye patch visor lens and not the naked eye. I couldn’t look people in the eye as as soldier on for patrol would have. The fear and sweat is the same but the risk is different. Soldiers on patrol or on a mission risk the constant threat of ambush, sustained attack under mortar or fire fights as well as the ever present danger of being blown up by an IED by accident. Pilots risk being coming under attack too by being ambushed by RPG rocket fire or coming under fire from below. Worse, was to think if you got hit and you had to bail and you were all alone, survival and evasion from capture becomes fearfully paramount. Of course they train you for this until it hopefully becomes muscle memory in how to survive and take evasive action from being captured and resisting as long as you could under interrogation. But as a female pilot the unspoken fear that dare not speak its name was ever present: the fear of rape.

I’m not sure my brother officers - no matter how sincere and well intentioned they were because we were all fiercely protective of one another - really understood what the word ‘rape’ means for a woman. Indeed a male friend and ex-army colleague said to me in jest don’t ever kid a man about kicking him in the balls because it’s one thing every man can imagine feeling but would find it hard to explain the excruciating pain when a man does get his balls bashed in. I don’t think the two ‘experiences’ are the same obviously but I understand how hard it is to articulate what it might feel like. I never really allowed myself to be consumed by the fear of what might happen if I ever got shot down and was captured but instead I made sure to focus on my job. It never really became pressing issue for me throughout my time in on the battlefield. I was lucky I got out in one piece despite a few close scrapes along the way.

I did hear awful and terrible stories from my oldest brother who served in the Iraq War of the raping of Kurdish women by Iraqi forces. It sickened him and left him hollow the the things he witnessed first hand. Through the charitable work of ex-veterans I have come across refugee woman who shared their harrowing stories of how they were violently and systematically raped as war booty and as primal assertion of victor dominance and control.

I was thinking about all these things as I read Pat Barker’s novel about one of the most famous wars of all, telling the story of the siege of Troy from the point of view of the local Trojan women taken by the Greek forces. It’s The Iliad as seen through the eyes of 19-year-old Briseis, the Queen of Lyrnessus who’s taken as Achilles’s “bed-girl”, his “prize of honour” for mass slaughter.

Barker’s not the first to turn to the classics for inspiration. It’s popular practice these days. Kamila Shamsie’s Home Fire and Michael Hughes’ Country, for example, transpose classical stories onto contemporary settings. The Silence of the Girls is yet another much welcomed book to offer a fresh perspective on Homeric women, following Madeleine Miller’s brilliant Circe. But while Miller’s reinvention of literature’s first witch brilliantly evoked a world of ancient magic in retelling The Odyssey from the witch’s point of view, not that of the warrior she waylays on his journey home, Barker’s story has its feet very firmly on the ground. Yes, the gods are still there – you can’t tell the story of the Trojan wars without them, after all. The gods remain mostly off stage but they are present in the background, magically restoring the mutilated dead body of Hector. The sea goddess Thetis, Achilles’ mother, is a briny, frightening presence, as are the dark shore and the waves by which the whole horrible story takes place. Apollo still sends a plague, Achilles is the son of a sea goddess who brings him divinely forged armour and Hector’s body is magically restored to freshness after being pulled behind Achilles’s chariot.

But what really stands out are not heavenly allusions but the dirt and filth and disease and sheer brutal physicality of the Greek army marauding everything that stands in their way to Troy - there’s no magic here to ease the pain and trauma of rape or murder or even to help exact revenge. And while Achilles’ divine mother makes an appearance, and Apollo is beckoned by Briseis to bring about a plague, the gods remain on the peripheries of this story. If Circe, which chronicles the life of its titular character, is very much about the gods and their egos, then The Silence of the Girls, however, is very much about humans, their egos and their wars - both personal and political.

In all this Barker gives female characters such as Circe and Briseis the voice they’ve traditionally been denied, readers glean a different version of events behind the Trojan War epic myth. “Great Achilles. Brilliant Achilles, shining Achilles, godlike Achilles…How the epithets pile up,” Briseis begins. “We never called him any of those things; we called him ‘the butcher’.”

In The Iliad, a poem about the terrible destruction caused by male aggression, the bodies and pretty faces of women are the objects through which men struggle with each other for status. The women are not entirely silent, and goddesses always have plenty to say, but mortal women speak primarily to lament. They grieve for their dead sons, dead fathers, dead husbands and dead protectors; for the city of Troy, soon to fall, and for their own freedom, taken by the victors of war. Andromache pleads with her Trojan husband Hector not to leave her and their infant son to go back to fight Achilles. She has already endured the sack of her home city by Achilles, and seen the slaughter of her father and seven brothers, and the enslavement of her mother. If Hector dies, their child will be hurled from the city walls, Troy will fall and Andromache will be made the concubine of the son of her husband’s killer. Hector knows this, but he insists that his own need to avoid social humiliation as a battle-shirker trumps it all: “I would be ashamed before the Trojan men and women,” he says. He hopes only to be dead before he has to hear her screams.

Barker’s absorbing prose puts the experience of women like Andromache at the heart of the story: the women who survive in slavery when men destroy their cities and kill their fathers, brothers and children. The central character is Briseis, the woman awarded to Achilles, the greatest Greek fighter, after his army sacks one of the towns neighbouring Troy. Agamemnon, the most powerful, although not the bravest, of the Greek warriors – a character whose downright nastiness comes across beautifully in Barker’s telling – has lost his own most recent female acquisition and seizes Briseis from Achilles. Achilles’ vengeful rage against Agamemnon and his own comrades, and the subsequent vast death toll of the Greeks and Trojans, is the central theme of The Iliad.

Homer’s poem ends by foreshadowing the fall of Troy in the death of its greatest fighter, Hector. Barker’s novel begins with the fall of another town: Lyrnessus, Briseis’ home, destroyed by Achilles and his men. We then see that the fall of a city is the end of a story only for the male warriors: some leave triumphant and others lie there dead. For the women, it is the start of new horrors.

Barker’s subject has long been gender relations during conflict, along with the machinations of trauma and memory, so she’s in her element here. Her blood-drenched battle scenes are up there with the best of them, and she shows a keen understanding of the “never-ending cycle of hatred and revenge” fuelling the violence. Her focus, however, is that which takes place off the battlefield, inflicted on the women in the “rape camps.”

Barker keeps the main bones of the Homeric poem in place, supplementing Homer at the end of the story with Euripides. His heartbreaking play The Trojan Women is, like Barker’s novel, a version of the story that shifts our attention from the angry, destructive, quick-footed, short-lived boys to the raped, enslaved, widowed women, who watch their city burn and, if they are lucky, get a moment to bury their slaughtered children and grandchildren before they are taken far away.

One of Barker’s most tear-jerking sequences is lifted straight from Euripides: the teenage daughter of Priam and Hecuba is gagged and killed as a “sacrifice” on the dead Achilles’ tomb, and then Hecuba is presented with the tiny corpse of her dead grandson, a toddler with his skull cracked open. The girl’s gagged mouth and the child’s gaping brains conjure a gruesome twinned image for the silenced voices that should tell of the horror and pity suffered by the victims of war.

For most of Barker’s novel, Briseis is the first-person narrator, but in the final part, the narrative is intercut with third-person chapters told from the point of view of Achilles. We never get as close to Achilles as we do to Briseis, but he is a compelling figure in his fascinating combination of brutality and civility. Like Siegfried Sassoon in Barker’s 1991 novel Regeneration, this Achilles has the soul of a poet as well as of a killer and hunter: he is a man whose physical courage and compulsion to fight sit uneasily with his clear, articulate awareness of the futility of war.

But Achilles, however fascinating he may be, is not then at the centre of this story. Still, the novel does provide a moving, thought-provoking version of what is perhaps the most famous moment of The Iliad: when the old king Priam makes his way, alone and unarmed, through the enemy camp, to plead with Achilles to give back the mutilated body of his son, Hector. Barker twice quotes Priam’s Homeric words to Achilles: “I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son.” Barker lets us feel the pathos and pity of this moment, as well as the pathos of all the many young men who die violent deaths far from home. We glimpse, too, Achilles’ alienation from his own “terrible, man-killing hands”, which have caused so many deaths.

Briseis has a powerful riposte to Priam’s words, weighing this unique encounter between men against the myriad unremembered horrors suffered by women in war. “I do what countless women before me have been forced to do. I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.”

Reduced to objects, they’re catalysts for conflict – Barker’s Helen inspires ribaldry not worship, “The eyes, the hair, the tits, the lips/ That launched a thousand battleships...” chant the soldiers – blamed for inciting hatred between men. Or they’re regarded as the victor’s spoils, claimed along with cattle and gold.

Briseis is both. Taken as a slave, Achilles and Agamemnon then feud over her: “It doesn’t belong to him; he hasn’t earnt it,” fumes the former. Men - Greek and Trojan alike – are afforded the privilege of vocalising their pain and loss, while women have to repress their suffering. “Silence becomes a woman,” they’re told, even when they’re free.

No longer an issue of decorum, now it’s about staying alive. “I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son,” declares Priam when he prostrates himself before Achilles begging for Hector’s body. “And I do what countless women before me have been forced to do, Briseis thinks bitterly, “I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.”

Barker has a very clear feminist message about the struggle for women to extricate themselves from male-dominated narratives. In the hands of a lesser writer, it could have felt preachy and woke but she masterfully avoids that. The attempt to provide Briseis with a happy ending is thin, and sometimes the female characters’ legitimate outrage seems a bit predictable, as when we hear Helen thinking: “I’m here. Me. A person, not just an object to be looked at and fought over.”

The novel has some annoying anachronisms, such as a “weekend market” (there were no weekends in antiquity), and a reference to “half a crown”, as if we were in the same period as Barker’s first world war novels. One wonders if any woman in archaic Greece, even a former queen, would have quite the self-assurance of Barker’s Briseis. But, of course, there is no way to be sure: no words from women in this period survive but Barker is surely right to paint them as thoughtful, diverse, rounded human beings, whose humanity hardly ever dawns on their captors, owners and husbands. This central historical insight feels entirely truthful.

Barker has a quasi-Homeric gift for similes: “that shining moment, when the din of battle fades and your body’s a rod connecting earth and sky”, or Achilles’ friend Patroclus dying, “thrashing like a fish in a pool that’s drying out”. There is a Homeric simplicity and drive in some of the sentences: “Blood, shit and brains – and there he is, the son of Peleus, half beast, half god, driving on to glory.” She is Homeric, too, in her attentiveness to what happens between people, and to the details of the physical world: the food, the wine, the clothes, the noise and the feel of skin, blood, bones, crackling wounds and screams. Barker, like Homer, understands grief and loss, and sees how alone people can be even when they are crying together. Loneliness in community is one of the major themes of this book, as it is of The Iliad.

Angry, thoughtful, sad, deeply humane and compulsively readable, The Silence of the Girls shows that Barker is a writer at the peak of her literary powers. You sense her only priority is to enlarge the story that we all know and she adds to it magnificently.

I have always enjoyed reading Pat Barker especially her enviable experience of writing about military life in her earlier novels and here in this book it shines through in the depiction of the Greek forces. The men are dehumanised by the wars they have created. This is primarily a book about what war does to women, but Barker examines what it does to men too. I was disturbed by the magnificently poignant final section which can’t help but make you reflect on the cultural underpinnings of male aggression, the women throughout history who have been told, by men, to forget their trauma. When Briseis is told to forget her past life, she immediately knows it is exactly what she must not, can not do: “So there was my duty laid out in front of me, as simple and clear as bowl of water: Remember.”

Briseis knows no one will want to record the reality of what went on during the war: “they won’t want the brutal reality of conquest and slavery. They won’t want to be told about the massacres of men and boys, the enslavement of women and girls. They won’t want to know we were living in a rape camp. No, they’ll go for something altogether softer. A love story, perhaps?” But even so, Briseis, for all that she must bear, understands eventually that the women will leave behind a legacy, though not in the same vocal, violent way the men will.

“We’re going to survive,” she says, “our songs, our stories. They’ll never be able to forget us. Decades after the last man who fought at Troy is dead, their sons will remember the songs their Trojan mothers sang to them. We’ll be in their dreams - and in their worst nightmares too.”

I felt disconcerted reading this and also very moved. As much as I love the Classics and firmly believe in it providing the foundational building blocks of our Western civilisation I also have to pause and remind myself that heroic behaviour, something the greatest of the Greeks are known for, isn’t anything admirable when viewed from the lens of the women they abuse. Heroism can be tainted by the dark side of one’s nature. However pure one soldier’s sacrifice for another can be, so there is the bestial side of us where the chains of civilised moral behaviour are unshackled and left to satiate our primal instinct for cruelty, conflict, and domination. Indeed what Barker does is be a much needed corrective because just as you think her perspective of the Greek heroes may be softening, she pulls back to remind you of Odysseus tossing Hector’s baby from the battlements, or Achilles’s casual butchery. “It’s the girls I remember most,” Briseis says. This then is a story about the very real cost of wars waged by men: “the brutal reality of conquest and slavery”.

In seeing a legend differently, Barker makes us rethink who gets to write history but also to remind us of our tainted human condition. There is no god in the machine to sort out most violent conflicts and situations with a thunderbolt here. There are only mortals, with all their flaws and ferocity and foolishness. And we all have to live with that but not I hope in silence.

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argumentl · 4 years ago

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The Freedom of Expression Ep 8 - About Sawajiri Erika's early comeback. (*Treatment of drug addicts*)

K: Hi, This is Dir en grey's Kaoru. Joe san, Tasai san, once again.

J, T: Please. Thank you very much.

Kami: Me too.

J: Oh, kami too, right?

K: Unlike on the radio show, he's always around now, isnt he? There were times when he wasn't around before.

J: I think he descended to us about once a month on the radio show.

T: *laughs*

K: In that show, he just flitted in sometimes, and that was it.

J: Yes, yes, yes.

K: Now he's everywhere.

J: He's a regular commentator now.

K: *laughs*

T: This time we have some news from Tokyo Sports.

J: Ah! From the celebrity world

T: Lets start.... Do you know the Japanese comedy duo 'Nihon Elekitel Rengo', famous for the 'Dameyo, damedame' sketch?

J: I didn't, but I learned about them from Tokyo Sports.

T: What about you, Kaoru?

K: I know them.

T: They are a female duo, but one of them, Nakano san, got married to an older man working at the same agency, but it was a marriage with zero prior social interaction.

J: What does that mean? They got married on the same day they met?

T: Well, she was approched by the man, Matsuo Atom san, but she continuously turned him down. Then she suddenly decided last year to marry him. So, its kinda being debated online whether it is or it isn't *1. I really want to ask them.

J: Ahh, surely it is.

K: You can't say it isn't.

J: You can't.. But if you think its isn't...what isn't?!

T: People who think that it isn't, say that because they've never dated, they don't know each other well, and they might divorce quickly.

K: Oh, thats about afterwards.

T: Some concern was raised about that.

J: But I dated my wife for twenty years before marriage, and ended up getting divorced after two years. So just because you've been together for a while, it doesn't mean you won't get divorced.

T: Ahh, I see.

J: This type of thing can't be helped.

K: But thats normal, dating for a long time, getting married, and then ending up separating. It happens to a lot of people, right?

J: Yes.

T: But this Nakano san says, they've never held hands, they don't know each other's address, they don't live together..

J: But they got married?

T: Yes

K: The possibility of them separating seems high, but...

J: Right?

T: Yeah

K:..but, they can do what they want.

J: Yes, i think so. It sounds weird, but this also works as publicity.

T: Yeah

J: Almost like a risky stunt. Personally, I think its possible. But if one of them had the idea, and the other agreed to it, isnt it something to be thankful for?

T: Yeah, but apparently thier boss was really worried about it, he said they should have told him first. He booked a hotel suit room and shoved the two of them in there, but apparently nothing ended up happening.

J: Nothing happened?! People hearing this will want to know if they love each other.

Kami: I want to meet thier boss.

J: Oh, that? *laughs* A suite room is expensive right?

Kami: Yeh, I want to stay in a suite room.

*everyone laughs*

K: What would you do if you did stay in one?

Kami: If I did? Hmm, use the internet.

*laughing*

J: You can do that anyway! What about something more extravagant?

K: Like ordering room service or something.

Kami: I would order room service.

K: What would you order?

J: What would you eat, Kami?

Kami: Ramen

*laughing*

J: I don't think there are many people who would order ramen in a suite room.

K: It might actually be good though. Eating that kind of common food in that kind of place.

J: Eating something...

K: and just looking at the internet.

J: Just looking at the internet *laughs*

K: Its luxurious, right?

J: Exactly. Isn't it wasting the suite though?

T: Okay, lets look at another story. Its this story, it caused quite a stir. Sawajiri Erika...she was found to be in possession of drugs and had her first court appearance at the end of January. The entertainment world is in uproar concerning her early comeback, should she, shouldn't she?

Kami: She should.

J: I think so too.

T: Why? I'll ask you first, Joe.

J: Well, this is her first crime, so she probably won't get a prison sentence. I think it will be a suspended sentence. So, the idea behind a suspended sentence is to give you preparation time to get back to your normal life. Its important get back to your original life as much as possible.

T: I see

J: So, with a suspended sentence she will lose all of her tv sponsers and stuff, but its important for her to gain a platform back, for example, online or such. Now, if we talk about the situation in America, drug addicts are seen as ill people, not criminals, so they embark on a process of revovery, in order to quickly return to regular life. There's a feeling of, 'you're ill, so lets get you better'. Its felt that the worst thing to do, is to be alone with it. Leaving people in these situations is seen as bad. Getting people re-immersed in the community, and returned to normality as much as possible through social interaction, is how America deals with this. As to why America does this, its mainly cost, it costs money to treat people. They want to get people back out into the world quickly. Unlike the idea of severe punishments in Japan, America generally thinks in that way. My own view is very similar to that... We'll have to wait for the verdict. If she gets prison, theres nothing to be done, but if she gets a suspended sentence, she should try to return to her normal life as much as possible. On the other hand, once you've used drugs, you must be able to continue in a clean state, so you must also have the support around you to be able to stay clean.

T: I see, I see.

J: I think thats important.

T: Kami, what are your thoughts?

Kami: The same as Joe. There were no victims.

J: Yes, thats right. No one else was hurt by this.

T: An opposing opinion might be that, as a tv star, she might have a bad influence on young people. What would you say to that?

J: In that case,..well, i don't watch tv much, so I don't really know, but there are loads of scenes of people injecting stuff on talk shows or such, aren't there? Thats got to be more of a bad influence. I think people need to consider that more. Just because she appears on tv, it doesn't mean people are gonna start doing drugs.

K: Yeh, she isn't gonna do drugs on screen.

J: Yeah, rather, those scenes of syringes and stuff..

K: Yeh, the stuff on talk shows is more of a bad influence.

J: I think so.

T: So, in connection with this, what do you think about stopping the screening of movies etc which the person has starred in, which tends to happen at lot in the entertainment world..Joe san?

J: I can only describe it as nonsense. In the music world, it would be the withdrawal of records..., there is no meaning to it. Its totally separate from what they are expressing. As for music, no one ever talks about The Beatles' or The Rolling Stones' drug use. Thats a totally different issue...In relation to drugs, I think eradicating them is important, so for example, we could have a portion of that artist's sales being donated to organisations like DARC (Drug Addiction Rehabilitation Center) in Japan, for example, which would be a good way to use them. I can't see any merit in just withdrawing thier works. If an artist returns to thier life, but is unable to be musically active, well, Tashio san is a good example of this *2, the places they can exist disappear gradually, and they become isolated. This is really sad. There's a possibility that leaving people in that isolated state can have a further negative influence, so there is no point in limiting the places people can work, or withdrawing thier works. I think Japan's management of this issue is problematic. In America, they don't arrest people for using drugs, they arrest the buyers and such, and thats what makes the news. But in Japan, you can see who's using drugs just by checking your phone. In particluar, famous people who use drugs are made into targets, to scare people, and to show how much your life will be ruined if you use drugs. It seems like its a kind of boosting of the zero tolerance policy which the Ministry of Health and Welfare introduced in the 1990s. It seems like that to me anyway.

Kami: Couldn't they make some kind of isolated place available, where its ok to do drugs?

T: Thats new.

J: Another novel idea from Kami.

K: Well, but yeah.

Kami: Because people who like drugs, will just like them.

J: I think so.

Kami: Yeh, so if you do that...because there are people who feel happier after taking medicine right?

J, T: Yeh.

Kami: Couldn't those type of people go to some place and be allowed to do it?

K: Without any crime occurring, right?

J: Right

T: Yeh, thats it.

Kami: No crime.

J: Well, i don't know if this is the appropriate way to express this, but in the case of drug dependence, its clear that the number one drug which causes mental and physical dependence is alcohol, rather than 'drugs'. You won't get arrested for alchol dependence, and the reason for that is because alcohol is legal. But incidents or fatal accidents cause by alcohol are ceaseless. There are a few incidents annually where someone murders after using drugs but, for example, as for people at the station falling onto to train lines, sixty percent of those are drunk, and many more people are killed by drunk drivers than drug addicts.

K: Well, its because there are many more people who drink alcohol.

J: Yes, the proportion is bigger. So if you consider these incidents in this way, they are certainly happening. In relation to drugs, there isn't really any logical explanation for them being illegal, but they are still strictly controled. Its a bit strange, but in America...well, it might be strange to always talk only about America, but the ban on cannabis, or medical cannabis has been lifted in America. In Japan, we have a situation where we can't even discuss such a thing, so I feel like it may be a bit of Galapagos syndrome....What do you think, Tasai san, about (Sawajiri's return)?

T: Well, she won't be able to eat, if she can't do tv work. From the viewers perspective, as long as its done appropriately..

K: Don't you need sponsers for tv though? So its not something she can really decide herself. But..on the stage or theater, if there are people who want to see her, I don't think it should be a problem.

T: Yeah

K: If there are people who say they don't want to see her on the airwaves, well, they are going to say that.

J: What do you think about her comeback, Kaoru?

K: Its completey fine to do it. Well, I mean she was doing a bad thing, but she has to carry on living. She could also find a different job, thats fine too. As for returning to the entertainment world, well, i dont really know, but she should return to some kind of work as soon as she can.

J: Yes, thats it...It might be difficult in the entertainment world.

T: Right..Especially with sponsers.

Kami: Isn't that ok though?

K: Yeah, they'll use who they want.

Kami: Its only whether the sponser will use her or not, right? On tv?

J: On tv, yes.

Kami: If they have a reason to use her, they will.

J: But as Kaoru said, she might have more freedom on the stage or something. There must be something that only she can do, so it seems at waste to just kill off her talent.

Kami: If she herself decides to lay low for a while and self reflect on what she did, thats ok too. No one needs to tell her to. Now, i mention it, its the same with alcohol. If you drink too much and end up being late, you can self reflect and show remorse. If it was me i would deduct it from thier salary though.

J: *laughs* How fresh.

Kami: Its just a problem of whether or not they self reflect on it.

T: I see

K: Well, it depends on the circumstances of the person.

Kami: Yeh, in the end. Of course, drugs, but alcohol and cigarettes etc are all bad too, right? I really want to emphasise that. But at the same time, there are people who like them, who will use them anyway. As a result they will be punished by the law, and that will be enough. I think that should be a salary deduction, and then be finished with it. But your boss or someone might be mad at you *3

T: I see

J: Its like, I've had a deduction, so forget about it already.

T: So, that was Tokyo Sports' news.

J: Ahh, Oh! I wanted to ask you, who is it? Celebrity 'X', who is about to be arrested?

K: *laughs*

T: We'll put the news out to the whole world, so..

J: You'll find this if you search for Tokyo sports news, 'X'.

T: Oh, i can't tell you.

J: You can't? Damn

K: Kami might know.

J: He might.

K: But he's only a god for us three.

J:Yeh

K: Maybe he doesn't know.

J: He's not a worldly god.

Kami: I know who it is.

J: Oh, you know?

Kami: I know.

J: Kami, who is it?

T: Joe, don't ask that!

J, K: *laugh*

T: It'll be announced to the world...my account will be banned.

K: We need people to subscribe, right.

J: Yes yes yes yes.

K: Thank you very much, see you next time. Thank you.

J, T: Thank you

*1 It is or it isn't/they are or they aren't, or that type of thing.

*2 No idea who this is.

*3 Not 100% about what he means here.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #kaoru #薫 #tfoe

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alison-anonymous · 5 years ago

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flawsome bandits pt. 1 ♡ sonic

Flawsome First Meetings

EARLY RELEASE!

Hello, my darlings and WELCOME to my second multi-part fanfic, Flawsome Bandits (a Sonic the Hedgehog Movie! x Reader). I have not yet finished the second chapter of this story yet, and I’m currently trying to prewrite these chapters so I can update them along the way, but I wanted to get the first one out to all of my patient darlings as soon as possible! Please let me know what you think, the love always encourages me to write more ;) Love you all, please enjoy!

Warnings: none

♡♡♡

If you've ever had amnesia, you'd know that things seem very quick.

Little flashbacks of what you're guessing to be your backstory come back in little spurts that never last long enough and are gone too soon. They leave huge, gaping holes in your background information from what your favorite color is to who your parents were. Try your story on for size.

You were Y/n Wachowski. A sassy, quick-witted teenage girl with a love for speed and a sharp tongue. Parents? Unknown. Distant relatives? Undiscovered. Hometown? Who the fuck knows. You were sent to live with the Wachowski's as your permanent foster parents after you were discovered wandering around the woods by a couple of hikers. They said that they found you wearing a ripped and dirty jumpsuit with pastel colors that looked like it was ten times smaller than your size. When they had tried to confront you, it was almost as if you couldn't hear them, your mouth open and unspeaking. Eyes wandering, glossy and unseeing.

You couldn't remember much about your past. Most of the time it was like looking at a blank sheet of paper, ready to get into the printer but it's out of ink. After being diagnosed with a concussion and severe amnesia, you were seen as unfit to take care of yourself, so that was how you ended up with the Wachowskis. But just because you were lucky enough to have loving and patient foster parents didn't mean that you had an answer to every question they asked. You had no idea what your favorite color was, what you liked to do in your free time, or even if you were a night owl.

It was like you didn't even remember who you were. Like you had just been born, only you weren't a baby and were instead a teenager. It got incredibly lonely being a child with no memories, and the kids at school found you very creepy. But it was okay. Tom and Maddie made sure to give you as much love as was humanly possible, and when the bullying at school got to the point where they would follow you home, they switched you to homeschooling.

It appeared that you not only had no existing memories of your past, but you also had barely any idea how things on earth worked. Whenever someone mentioned examinations, vaccines, bucket lists, and even governmental agencies, you had no clue what they were talking about.

Not everyone was as patient as Tom and Maddie were, unfortunately. Most people would assume that you were kidding when you asked them what a protractor was or why people ride animals. It all seemed so strange and new to you, like Tarzan when he was visiting the human world and not the ape land he was familiar with. But out of it all, there was one thing that you became absolutely fascinated with.

Cars.

The faster, the better. You seemed to have an unchecked need for speed that tickled at your mind every time you got behind the wheel. Whenever Tom allowed it, you'd take the truck or his old squad motorcycle out for a spin in the abandoned corn fields where you could do as many tricks as you wanted without putting anyone else in danger. One of your favorites was driving backwards.

It's during one of those days where our story finally begins. The Montana sun was high up in the sky, beating down its scorching rays onto the untouched pavement. A flock of birds fled for the telephone polls in an attempt to escape from the ever increasing sound of revving coming from the abandoned corn field near Crazy Carl's traps for the supposed "Blue Devil." In the midst of the dead and crusty corn stalks, there sat a young girl on a very old squad motorcycle. Her hair fluttered gently in the slight breeze running through the air, a pair of sunglasses perched delicately atop her nose in the absence of a helmet. Before her stood a makeshift riser composed of some old wooden slabs she had "borrowed" from an old tree house a little ways south. A smirk played across her lips as she kicked up the bike's kickstand and revved the engine.

"Alright, Y/n, if you make this jump, you'll be the most famous girl in Green Hills…" Her words got lost in the wind as she took a deep breath and began to ride towards the jump, her speed increasing with every passing second. The distance began to decrease, her growing closer and closer until an abnormal electric blue blur zipped past her. Startled, she swerved, momentarily losing control of her bike as she slowed to a stop, planting her boots firmly on the ground. Chest heaving, she flipped her sunglasses up onto her forehead and slipped off of the bike, looking around the empty field to see if she hit anything.

What was that? She wondered.

Unbeknownst to her, a couple feet away from her, hidden deep within some dehydrated bushes was a royal blue hedgehog. He had been on his way back to his cave after taking a turtle for a little joy ride down the interstate when he spotted his favorite human on earth, Star Chaser. She was the most amazing girl he had ever seen, and lived with Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady. He would make it a priority to hang out with her every time she was out practicing her racing tricks, a dopey grin spreading on his face every time he saw her ecstatic smile. She just never knew he was there.

More than anything, he wished that he could get to hang out with her just once. Just for one day, spent full of speeding down the empty country roads and flying over makeshift jumps and laughing about the funny faces they made from the wind hitting their skin. But he knew better. He had to stay hidden, just like Longclaw said. Never stop running, and always stay hidden… alone.

There was something about her that just drew him to her, something familiar. He watched with caution as Star Chaser searched the field a bit more, her footfalls making satisfying crunching sounds on the long gone plants. Her beautiful e/c eyes searched the grounds before her for whatever had interrupted her practice. Finally, after she was satisfied with not having hit anything, she got back onto the cycle, flipped her sunglasses back on, and zipped away, leaving a trail of smoky exhaust in her wake.

The blue hedgehog zoomed back to his cave himself, dodging trees and bushes with expertise. The whole time he ran, he couldn't prevent his mind from wondering what life might be like if he were somehow able to live alongside the humans. If he could have a conversation with Star Chaser that didn't exist in his imagination, to maybe even discover why she seemed so familiar. What would life be like if he didn't have to hide?

♡♡♡

Just when things finally start getting familiar, the concept of moving decides to rear its ugly head in. Y/n had found out that her foster dad got a promotion, a job in another city with a higher ranking and a wider variety of donut holes to snack on. That meant that they were going to have to leave Green Hills.

But, knowing her, she shoved the grief and frustration so far down inside her until it became nonexistent. Maddie had left on a trip to see her sister, leaving Y/n and Tom alone. They had had a freak power outage the night before, leaving Tom a bit on edge. His phone kept ringing off the hook as his coworker was just a bit dependent on him, and had no idea if he should just ignore the 911 phone calls or pick them up.

“Remind me to drive by the library tomorrow,” Y/n set down her latest novel on the counter by the car keys. She watched as Tom stole a bit of frosting off of the cake and scrunched up her nose at the lack of sanitation. “I need to return this before we get fined.”

Tom nodded just as his phone began ringing. He held up a finger to his daughter and leaned against the counter, lifting up the phone to his ear as he began to talk to his wife. Y/n turned to the fridge and was trying to decide whether or not she was hungry or just bored as she did her best to not listen to them talking about the move. Just as she was about to reach for the watermelon, a loud clattering noise came from outside. Tom and Y/n exchanged an alarmed glance and quickly shuffled over to the window, childishly trying to shove each other out of the way so they could get a good look.

“Shit,” Y/n swore as she took in the knocked over trash bins sitting next to the garage.

“Watch your potty mouth,” Tom scolded, but a smile still stayed on his lips. “The racoons are back.” Y/n watched as he quickly turned towards one of the junk drawers and pulled out Maddie’s bear tranquilizer gun. She snorted.

“You better not be using my tranquilizer gun,” she heard Maddie’s voice say over the speaker. “That’s for bears.”

“Good,” Tom grinned as he loaded up the machine. “Now I know it’ll work. Y/n, stay inside.” Y/n scoffed as he hung up the phone and opened up the back door. Yes, of course she was going to stay safely inside like a crappy sidekick and miss the potential action of scaring trash pandas half to death. Grabbing an extra flashlight, she raced out after her dad to see him pressed up against the side of the shed, holding the gun and flashlight near his face. He jumped once she saddled up next to him, putting her flashlight in front of her like her own makeshift gun.

“I thought I told you to stay inside,” He narrowed his brows. To his dismay, Y/n only shrugged.

“You did. I didn’t listen,” she grinned, making it obvious that he had no other choice than to let her stay. He sighed, but nevertheless nodded. On a quick countdown from three, the two burst into the shed, waving their flashlights around like mad men.

“Green Hills PD, put your paws up!” Tom hollered. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind him, flashing her light around the empty room until it finally came to a stop. Her eyes widened in shock and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor as she tried to make sense of what exactly she was looking at. An electric blue creature wearing white gloves and tennis shoes stood before them, holding what looked like a gold wedding ring between his forefinger and thumb. She couldn’t tell what was stranger: the fact that he existed or the fact that he seemed oddly familiar. The creature’s green eyes flashed from hers to her father’s before he let out a small, nervous chuckle.

“Uhh, meow?”

And then, Tom screamed. His fear and the sudden introduction of the loud noise caused Y/n to scream, too, which finally led to the little blue creature screaming. But the longer Y/n stared at it, the more she began to experience a slight hint of deja vu. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she had seen this thing before.

“Wait,” she whispered, barely loud enough for her dad to hear, but the blue creature’s ears perked up. He turned his attention back to her and the second they locked eyes, the same sense of familiarity began coursing through his veins. After all of those days spent watching her from afar, how did he never notice the e/c eyes? Where had he seen them before?

Unfortunately, Tom just had to go and ruin the moment by pulling the trigger on the tranq gun.

“Dad, no!” Y/n cried, but it was already too late as the dart sank into the blue creature’s thigh. They could only watch as the animal looked down at the needle in his leg and slowly looked back up with a hurt glare.

“Ow,” he whined, his eyes already beginning to lose their concentration. Y/n was about to take a step towards the creature, but Tom wrapped his hand around her arm to stop her. The creature’s eyes floated over Tom’s shirt, zeroing in on the words that littered the old fabric. “San… Fran…sisco?” He muttered. The ring he had been holding on to loosely slipped from his fingers, and began rolling across the floor. As its velocity increased, it began expanding, deying all laws of logic as a portal overlooking the given city appeared. Y/n and Tom’s jaws dropped to the floor as they watched the creature stumble, dropping his little bag through the portal and collapsing onto the ground. Y/n’s heart ached for the poor thing as she fought to get out of her father’s grasp in order to help him.

Within seconds, the portal closed up, eliminating the slight wind that had appeared. “N-No…” The creature whimpered before finally passing out. A thick silence crossed over the three as Tom’s grip on Y/n’s arm loosened, both humans trying to figure out what the heck they just witnessed.

“What the actual fuck?” Y/n breathed.

“Language…”

♡♡♡

“Yes. Let’s shoot the poor thing and then put him in a cage,” Y/n rolled her eyes sarcastically, watching as her father poked the blue creature resting inside of their dog’s old cage. She batted at his hand, and gave him a death glare, but he just sighed.

“Come on, kid, what if he’s an alien?” Tom asked incredulously, turning back to the sleeping creature. He nudged its head with a metal spatula and sighed.

“I don’t know…” Y/n sighed, resting her head on her knuckle. I mean, she had to admit he was kind of… cute. The nostalgia that he was causing was just an added complication. There was something about his entire being that seemed eerily familiar to her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Tom slowly withdrew something that had fallen onto the padding; an electric blue quill. The two slowly leaned closer to inspect the object, noting the little blue bolts of electricity that whizzed across its surface. It absolutely fascinated Y/n, while Tom seemed a little more apprehensive. He turned away from the cage and set it down on the counter, running a hand over his face.

“This is nuts,” he whispered. Y/n took the opportunity to get a little closer to the being, scanning his body with careful eyes. She debated reaching through the bars to touch him, but before she had a chance to, his eyes slowly popped open. Her eyes widened and she stayed perfectly still as he pushed himself up to a standing position and made his way to open the cage. Her breath catches in her throat as he finally looks up at her and gives her a small, sheepish smile, stumbling out onto the counter top. Even in the given circumstances, the only thing that the girl can think of is how absolutely adorable he is.

...wait, what?

“Star Chaser?” Y/n quickly turned her attention back to the present and furrowed her brows in confusion. Who was Star Chaser? “Donut Lord?” The blue being slurred, holding on to the cage for support. Tom swiveled around at the sound and scoffed.

“So the Blue Devil can talk. You’re not here to abduct us are you?”

“YOU abducted ME,” the Blue Devil replied defensively, pressing his hand against his chest. Y/n rolled her eyes and stepped between the two, looking the being in the eyes.

“I am very sorry for that-”

“Why are you apologizing to it?!” Tom cried, running his hands through his hair incredulously. Y/n just rolled her eyes.

“I told him to just leave you alone. But, if I may ask, who are you and why were you in our shed?” She finished. Tom facepalmed behind her while the Blue Devil did his best to concentrate his fatigue on the beautiful girl standing before him. Gosh, her eyes were pretty…

“I-I needed a safe place, and Donut Lord’s house was the only place I could think of, Star Chaser!”

“Why does he keep calling me Donut Lord?” Tom asked warily, slowly reaching for the tranq gun. Y/n quickly shot him a glare and he let out an annoyed huff. Even though he was her foster father, they acted like siblings with good-hearted and frequent quarrels.

“Because you talk to donuts,” the Blue Devil explained. “And then eat them when they get out of line.” Y/n snorted, trying her best to contain her laughter by pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She didn’t notice the small smile that formed on the blue hedgehog’s face as Tom shrugged, nodding his head slightly.

“Fair. Why is she Star Chaser?” The Blue Devil got a distant look on his face, a small, thoughtful smile still lingering on his lips.

“I’ve watched her race out in the fields. It’s amazing how fast she can go. Sometimes I wonder if she’s trying to chase the stars out of the sky…” A soft smile slowly formed on your lips at his words. No one had ever talked about you like that before.

The distant look on his face was suddenly replaced by one with worry. His eyes began frantically glancing around the room, Y/n being able to practically see the alarms going off in his head. “Wait, where are my… Why am I still on earth? Oh no, I lost my rings!”

“Rings?” Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. Just then, a loud rumbling sound came from outside. It had such an impact that it shook the entire house, startling the chimes that Maddie had hung up above the sink. The three looked around in confusion.

“What’s happening? Is this your mothership?” Tom began panicking, walking briskly around the table towards the window. He jabbed an accusing finger at the nervous hedgehog. “I do NOT want my daughter getting probed.”

“Dad, stop,” Y/n sighed, following him towards the window. “You’re the one who abducted him. Can’t you be just a little bit sentimental?”

“Thanks,” the hedgehog muttered just loud enough for Y/n to hear. She stood next to her foster dad at the window and peered out the glass. A giant grey vehicle that had been passing stopped and began backing up towards their driveway.

“What the hell kind of make is that?” Y/n muttered. The Blue Devil was by their side in a second and was peering through the window too. Once he caught sight of the ginormous lab van, he let out a squeak and pulled the white curtains shut.

“They’re after me!”

“Who’s after you?” Y/n questioned in concern. She got pushed behind Tom as he stood protectively in front of her, eyeing the Blue Devil suspiciously.

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you have to help me!” He pleaded. Y/n felt her heart sink for the creature, her instant gut feeling telling her that they had to help him. He was in danger, albeit he was apparently a runaway. Unfortunately, Tom had different ideas as he furiously shook his head.

“No, we don’t!”

“But Dad-”

“Y/n, enough,” Tom ended her protests sternly. He turned back to the blue hedgehog and furrowed his brows, wondering what reason he could possibly have that would need them to help him. “Why should we help you?”

“Well, my legs, which normally would be classified as legal weapons, feel like spaghetti. I need your help, please! It’s life or death.” The Blue Devil’s green eyes pleaded to Tom. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind her dad and glanced down at him. He knew exactly what to say in order to get Tom to help him, didn’t he? It was almost as if he had been there all of those times when Tom was wishing for someone to come to him in their time of need. His facade crumbled and he caved in almost instantly.

“Alright, fine. Y/n, take him up to the attic. I’ll take a look at what’s going on outside.” Tom ordered. Y/n nodded and motioned for the blue hedgehog to follow her. They quickly scampered towards the stairs, and as they began to walk quietly up the flights, Y/n noticed two things. One, Crazy Carl was right after all. The little “Blue Devil” was a lot larger than she had expected him to be, measuring up to be about half of her height. And two, the thing was having a horrific time walking. With a strangely racing heart, Y/n slowed down her pace and offered her hand to the being. He gave her a small smile and accepted it, wrapping his gloved hand around her own.

“My actual name is Y/n, by the way,” she finally spoke in an attempt to break the hurried silence. “But I like Star Chaser better.” He smiled beside her, trying to figure out why the girl before him seemed so familiar.

“I just thought it suited you. My name’s Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“I knew you weren’t an alien,” Y/n said as she let go of his hand to pull down the ladder. She picked the hedgehog up and set him down gently inside the attic. His name kept ringing throughout her head on an endless loop, like it was supposed to bring back some big part of her life, but it always came back empty. She gave him a small smile and was about to head back down when he stopped her.

“Wait,” his dreamy green eyes were full of concern as he looked straight into Y/n’s. “Be careful.”

Y/n appreciated how genuinely concerned he was for her safety. It was a beautiful gulp of fresh air amidst all of the others who thought she was crazy or weird. At least his sincerity made the fact that he had been basically stalking her and her family for a while now a little bit less creepy. Y/n gave him a reassuring smile and closed the attic door, racing all the way back down to the main floor where she skidded to a halt by the door.

There was Tom, with some very strange looking man sporting a signature Man with the Bowler Hat mustache standing in the Y/n slowly approached her dad and watched as the man turned his attention towards her.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a daughter,” the man smiled creepily, sending shivers down her spine. She scrunched her nose as Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively.

“I have a name,” she raised her brows skeptically. “Y/n.”

At the sound of her name, the man got a shocked look on his face, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he stared intensely at her. Tom and Y/n exchanged confused glances before the man quickly snapped back into reality.

“Y/n…” he repeated. “Interesting. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes,” he suddenly propelled himself towards Tom, becoming very uncomfortably close to his face. Y/n slowly sank into her father’s arm in order to back away from the strange man. “I was spitting out formulas while you were still spitting up formula.”

“I was breastfed, actually,” Tom responded, mildly weirded out. Y/n’s face contorted in disgust. What the hell was this conversation?

“Nice,” he nodded. “Rub that in my orphan face.”

“Okay,” Y/n spoke up, finally having enough as she pushed the two apart. “Listen, I have no idea who you are and why you are here, but I think you should be leaving.”

“Ooh, fiesty one,” the man nodded, narrowing his eyebrows at you to the point that the folds on his forehead nearly overlapped one another. “Doctor Robotnik, I-”

A sudden thump sounded from the kitchen, startling the man enough to make him shut up. Tom and Y/n froze, running through every possible excuse in their minds as to what that could have been that wasn’t Sonic. Y/n turned to Robotnik and offered him the best sheepish smile she could muster.

“Um… Racoons?”

Robotnik gave her a fake smile and shouldered his way into the house. Y/n and Tom scrambled to follow him, praying to god that their little blue friend wasn’t sitting on the kitchen counter. Thankfully, once they reached the kitchen, they were greeted with a friendly racoon, shoveling handfuls of celebratory cake into its mouth. Y/n breathed a small sigh of relief through her mouth.

“See? Racoons.” Tom spoke defiantly, placing his hands on his hips. Y/n began to search the room quietly for any sign of Sonic while Robotnik was preparing to leave. They had almost gotten him out the door when he stopped and backtracked. In confusion, Y/n and Tom followed his gaze and their hearts stopped.

He slowly held up the lone electric blue quill for all to see.

“Looks like I was right,” a shit-eating grin formed on his face. “Note the lack of surprise.” He pointed to his monotone expression and Y/n could already tell that she fucking hated him. She slowly began to back away from him when a floating egg shaped orb harnessing a bright red laser became very interested in Tom. Y/n’s heart raced, back growing tense as she began to hesitantly back away until Robotnik gave her a warning glare.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, let’s try this again. Where. Is. It?”

“Look, man, leave her out of this. We have no idea what ‘it’ is,” Tom exclaimed, beginning to hold his hands up in surrender. Robonik simply shook his head and pushed some buttons on the gloves that he was wearing.

“I hate liars. You have five seconds to tell me where it is. Five… Four…” He began to count down, Y/n only being able to watch in horror as the white orb came ever closer to her father, the menacing light flashing. Daring someone to challenge it. Tom stared, his facade crumbling with every second that was counted down, trying desperately to find a way out. Things were looking to death when a sudden electric blue blur shot out from behind the counter and stood in front of Y/n, hands outspread in protection.

“Wait!” Sonic cried. “Don’t hurt them!”

Y/n looked down at the little hedgehog in shock, and was startled when Robotnik let out the most girlish scream anyone had ever heard come from the pipes of a man. Then Tom punched him in the face.

“Yes, go Dad!” Y/n whooped as the Doctor crumpled onto the floor, unconscious. Their victory was short lived, however, as the second she finished talking, she was dragged behind the counter by Sonic to avoid getting hit in the face by a laser beam. The three watched in horror as the Wachowski’s custom designed kitchen became destroyed by the angry red bots, shooting around with no instructions as their master was now taking a nap on the floor. Before Y/n even had the chance to ask what they should do, they noticed that Sonic was already missing. Looking frantically around the room, Tom motioned up to one of the kitchen cupboards, and sure enough, there was Sonic preparing to jump onto one of the bots that was probably scanning for their heat signatures or something equally significant. The two shook their heads rapidly, but Sonic simply gave them one of the most adorable sassy nods Y/n had ever seen. He leapt onto the robot, trying desperately to smack it as it spun around like a horse without a head.

“This-was a… horrible idea!” Sonic screamed before he got flung off the robot, sailing through the air, and landing straight into Y/n’s arms. He offered her a sheepish smile, and Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile still playing across her lips. She set him down just in time to see her dad knock the bot out with a frying pan. It careened to a halt and collapsed onto the ground.

“Alright,” Y/n nodded, kicking it once with the scuff of her shoe for good measure. “Shall we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

♡♡♡

The three runaways were able to pull out of the driveway just as a bunch of other Men in Black vans were pulling up to the house. Tom sat behind the wheel while Sonic sported a shotgun, and Y/n crouched in the middle of the backseat with no seatbelt. Because this was living on the dark side, and on the dark side, we don’t wear seatbelts.

“Okay, so now that we aren’t running from scary doctors, what the hell is going on here?” Y/n asked, leaning forward on the console and resting her head in her hand as she turned to Sonic. He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed.

“Well, I just might have been the reason for that big power explosion… and now people after me. To make things worse, I lost my rings to a place that I’ve only ever seen on your dad’s skin tight T-shirt, and I have to make it to the Mushroom Planet or else I’m putting everyone here in danger.” He finally took in a deep gulp of air after pulling out that whole explanation in one breath. Y/n furrowed her brows in concern.

“Mushroom Planet?” Tom asked, his lips pressing into a firm line.

“You must have lost them in San Francisco,” Y/n said. Suddenly, Tom jerked the wheel to the right and pulled off to the side of the road, unlocking the doors in the process.

“Alright, get out.” Y/n and Sonic stared at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sonic narrowed his eyes slightly. Tom leaned forwards and opened the passenger side door for him, running a hand down his face.

“Look, this is the worst time for me to be getting into trouble with the law and my daughter doesn’t really need a track record. So, you can go off and have good luck with finding your weird little Mushroom Planet. I’ll hopefully wake up in a hospital room soon with a successful colonoscopy and a happy, totally sane teenage daughter, so goodbye.”

“What? Dad!” Y/n started to object, her blood boiling in irritation at his insensitivity. Sonic shook his head and gave her a half-hearted smile as he slipped out of the car.

“It’s okay, Y/n. Goodbye, I guess…” But instead of leaving, he just stood there. Staring. Y/n turns to stare at her father too to double the effect.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” He groaned in frustration.

“How the hell is he supposed to know where San Francisco is?” Y/n laughs, and Tom sighs in defeat, knowing that she’s right. He gives her a half-assed glare, but as usual she was refusing to back down. Sonic doesn’t notice the small smile forming on his own lips, his appreciation for this strangely familiar girl increasing with every second he spent with her.

“It’s West. Straight shot.” Tom finally tells him. Sonic nods.

“Okay. West. Cool. Cool, I’m totally cool with saying goodbye right now,” he exaggerates, swirling his gloved hands around with the hurt clearly evident on his face.

“I’m not,” Y/n grumbles, pressing her cheek against the rough leather of the driver’s seat. Before anyone could say another word, Sonic shot off in the given direction faster than the speed of sound. Y/n’s jaw drops open along with Tom’s as they look down at the spot where he once was.

“H-holy shit,” Y/n stuttered.

“D-did he just-” Tom didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Sonic came back, only this time soaking wet. He was sporting a nice fish on his head and a bunch of seaweed hanging on to his quills, which accented his sarcastic expression perfectly. Y/n tried to stifle her laughter by pouting and turning to her father as he rolled his eyes.

“So, as I crashed into the cold, dark Pacific,” Sonic began, sending a wink in Y/n’s direction. “I noticed a couple things. A, I have no idea where I’m going. B, salt water stings. And C, I shouldn’t even be on this planet right now but I am. Why? Because you shot me.” Sonic’s eyes narrowed.

“I know,” Tom sighed, turning back to the road.

“You shot me!”

“Okay, you don’t need to rub it in,” he sniffed, glancing at Y/n out of the corner of his eye. “She was there too…”

“She didn’t shoot me,” Sonic stood up for her. Y/n gave him a kind smile as he began listing off characteristics on his gloved fingers. “I’m wet, I’m cold, there’s a fish on my head, and clearly I’m not going to be able to do this on my own!” Once he finished, Y/n slowly reached out to him and pushed the fish off his head, watching as it flopped about helplessly on the ground.

“You do owe it to him,” she subtly pressed, leaning back once again in her seat. Tom stayed silent for a moment, staring firmly at the little blue hedgehog for what seemed like forever. Finally he caved and started the ignition once again.

“Fine. Get in.”

“Really?” Sonic and Y/n chimed in hopeful unison. “You’re going to help me?” He shook out his fur at such a high speed that once he finished, it poofed out like a dramaticized afro. Y/n giggled in her seat, not being able to handle how cute it was. Butterflies began to wander around in her stomach.

“I guess it is sort of my fault,” Tom hesitantly admitted.

“Actually, it’s entirely your fault,” Y/n teased. He gave her a playful shove, but snorted nonetheless. Sonic quickly climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Road trip!” He cheered, looking excitedly around the car. Y/n cheered along with him while still trying to shake the eerily feeling of familiarity. Tom shook his head, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell am I doing with my life?”

♡ a.a.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog imagines #sonic imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie imagines #flawsome bandits #blue blur x reader #donut lord #pretzel lady #dr robotnik

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

#7 with Sternclay, for the prompts?

Here you go! I went NSFW

#7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”

Barclay is so excited; he’s going to be spending two weeks on the Dual Mesa set, writing an exclusive behind the scenes story that’s sure to give the magazine a big sales boost.

“Ah, Barclay, come in.” Ned Chicane, the show’s director, ushers him into his office, “I assume they told you we will be leaving to shoot on location tomorrow?”

“Yes, I, uh, I’m really honored that you chose Q to run your story; your cast is so diverse, it really resonates with our readers.”

Ned waves a hand in faux-humility, “Why create a show with paranormal elements that simply recreates homogeneity? However, my dear boy, you were not chosen by me.”

“I requested it.” Barclay turns as a tall man with dark hair enters the office, and has the sudden urge to hide under the nearest table. The man currently staring him down with bright blue eyes and a mild-yet-clearly displeased expression is Joseph Stern, star of Dual Mesa and subject of a very unflattering article Barclay published a week ago.

“Look, Mr. Stern, I-”

“Quiet.” Stern holds up his hand, “I asked Ned to give Q a boost by granting access to the shoot because I think the magazine does excellent work. I asked for you to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your writing is quite good, but clearly your research and fact checking needs some work.”

“Just because you don’t like it-”

“I don’t, but that’s not the issue. You published things that are patently false and easily provable as such. For instance, the claim that I got this role by sleeping with the director has two major flaws; one, Ned is not my type.”

“There’s no accounting for poor taste.” Ned says, clearly unbothered,

“And two, Mr. Mosche would break my fingers if I tried to fuck his husband.” He points to the corner of the room where a large, tattooed man sits reading.

“Right you are.” He looks up long enough to reply.

“And anyone on set could have told you that. Whatever your sources were, you didn’t do due diligence. So you’ll be trying again.”

“Look, buddy, where do you get off giving me orders?”

“By being the star they’d have the hardest time killing off.”

“And by raising good points.” Ned stands, “asking for a flat retraction would reflect poorly on the show, as it would look as if we were trying to hide the truth. This allows you to correct misconceptions as well as get exclusive looks at next season.”

“You’re literally a paid actor, how the hell do I know you aren’t faking these two weeks?”

“You won’t be spending all your time with him; you’ll be interviewing others as well and have opportunities to observe him without him knowing.” Ned pats Barclays shoulder, “but he will be responsible for introducing you to the rest of the cast”

Barclay glances at Stern, who lifts an eyebrow with a smirk.

“So. Have fun with that!”

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

The introduction the next day goes as well as trying to light a match in a hurricane. Stern is polite and professional when Barclay arrives, introduces him to the cast and the main crew without mentioning the article. But it’s clear Barclay’s reputation precedes him.

“You really got Joe figured all wrong.” Duck Newton, who plays good-hearted Sheriff Frank Roosevelt on the show, pulls Barclay aside as Stern and co-star Aubrey Little (who plays Lucille, a plucky young woman with a dark past) get ready to shoot.

“So everyone keeps saying, but I didn’t make that stuff up. It turned up when I researching him.”

“Don’t mean someone else didn’t just pull it out of their ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Barclay sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Look, all I know is Joe’s been nothin but kind a professional to me. I’d even call him a friend. Know he can come off as intimidatin and rigid sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

Barclay hears variations of this sentiment over and over during the next two days. It’s part of why he’s currently sitting inside his motel room not far from the main set, eating dinner alone. Indrid, the costume designer had actually invited him to eat with a few members of the crew. Barclay demurred. If the bulk of the people on set think he’s a jerk, he doubts they’ll be that open to getting to know him. Plus, he’s kind of humiliated at how little actual evidence he can find for the claims against Stern, and doesn’t want to give the other man a chance to gloat.

There’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to find the last person he expects, or wants, to see.

“Good evening, Barclay.” Out of costume, Stern almost looks ordinary. There’s still the unfair symmetry of his face, the way he makes jeans and t-shirt look somehow sophisticated.

“Uh, something you need from me?”

Stern looks past him to his cobbled together dinner; Barclay’s a good cook, but the damn room doesn’t have anything more than a microwave.

“The chance to buy you an actual dinner.”

Barclay’s about to point out that he’s not eating in the commissary tent because of Stern when the actor adds, “please?”

He grabs his wallet and joins Stern in the still-warm evening air, following him into the few blocks that make up downtown Sagebrush, the former mining town that makes up much of Dual Mesa’s background. He expects them to stop at the Mizpah, the sole fancy hotel and restaurant, but Stern guides him past it and into a kitschy diner.

They study their menus in silence, the pleather booths squeaking awkwardly whenever one of them moves.

Barclay orders the burger plate that comes with a slice of pie and Stern, surprisingly goes for an omelette off the all-day breakfast menu.

“Barclay I, well, it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot. I want you to know that as much as the article upset me, I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here. No ones going to shun you for what you wrote.”

“Pretty clear they’re all on your side.” Barclay sips his water, meeting Stern’s gaze.

“There don’t need to be sides; you want to write an accurate profile of what it’s like on set, and I want to not have my name dragged through the mud anymore. Those come out to be the same thing.”

“You seem real fucking confident.” Barclay narrows his eyes.

Stern’s hackles go up, but then he sets his hands on the table with a measured breath, “I don’t pretend to be perfect, Barclay. I’m aware, well aware, of my flaws. But none of those flaws match what you wrote about me. I’m not asking to look untouchable in your piece, I’m asking to look like myself.”

Barclay looks down, spots him nervously shredding his napkin. As he’s thinking, a teenager in a tricolor tank-top approaches the table.

“Um, sorry, but are you Joseph Stern? The guy who plays agent Hooper?”

Stern smiles, genuine and reassuring, “I am.”

“Could I, uh, get a picture? Like a selfie?”

“Of course.”

Barclay watches Stern pose with the kid and compliment his pride shirt, before waving goodbye as he scurries back to his table to show his friends the photo.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Stern shakes his head, “It happens pretty often, especially in town where most people know what I look like in my street clothes, so I’m used to it. Besides, for a lot of these kids there’s more than just the celebrity angle. I can count the number of gay, trans, Asian-american actors on T.V when I was kid with one hand,” He holds up a fist to indicate a zero, “if the price of being that person for kids now is posing for some pictures, I’ll pay it any day.”

Warmth blooms in his chest, the sincerity making him want to trade a truth in return, “Yeah, I remember looking for guys like me and not seeing them. I’d just pick a character I liked and kinda projected. Except the X-Files; then I just had a huge fucking crush on Mulder. Oh, thanks.” He smiles at the waitress as she sets his food down.

“I know that feeling. Somewhere there are pictures of me dressed as him for a Halloween party.”

“Heh, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in ages.” Barclay munches on a fry, “Last three times I went as Bigfoot. It was an easy costume and kept my face hidden.”

“That’s a shame for the other party-goers.”

Barclay coughs, choking on his fry, as Stern blushes, shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, and changes the topic to books.

The next day, when Barclay arrives on location and everyone is milling about getting ready to shoot, Stern pats the chair near his own and talks with him until he’s needed on camera. Over the next week, Barclay finds himself next to Stern more often than not, comparing notes on the mystery novels they’ve been passing back and forth, or explaining his job moonlighting as a cookbook editor, or listening to the actor describe his travels to the locations of famous cryptid sightings. What surprises him most is how charming he finds Stern when he’s nowhere near a camera. On set, in character as Special Agent Alex Hooper, he radiates the quiet charm that makes his character so beloved. When they’re alone it’s different, a little less polished and little nerdier, and rather than captivating him it makes Barclay want to protect him.

It turns out that slips of the tongue happen to Stern a lot, at least when he’s around Barclay. “Sec” routinely becomes “sex” and comments about Barclay’s size and strength come often, Stern always sheepish afterwards. As if his attention is something Barclay may not want rather than something he craves like a four-course meal.

When he starts daydreaming about asking Stern back to his motel room after one of their now-regular dinners together (that Stern always pays for), he knows he’s in trouble.

“Helllloo?”

He jumps, chuckles in surprise as Aubrey finishes waving her hand in front of his face, “Sorry, was thinking about dinner.’

“I was saying thanks for coming out while we shoot this. I know how hard it can be to pull away from your ‘muse’.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Barclay feels the blush overrun him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let him figure it out on his own.” Aubrey winks, the groans, “aw fuck here he comes.”

Robert Hayes, who plays the recurring role of Hooper’s supervisor, appears in the grove where they’re shooting a scene with just him and Aubrey. Barclay steps out of frame, Aubrey hissing “don’t leave me” as he does.

“I can’t believe Ned is letting Indrid do more alternative looks for you.”

“It works for Lucille.”

“It would work better if she was more conventionally attractive.”

Barclay growls under his breath; how dare this guy talk to his friend that way?

“Well, obviously not, because the audience likes me like this. And they have opinions worth listening too.”

The tension remains throughout the shoot, Barclay tensing every time Hayes opens his mouth. He pretends to be busy when the actor comes over to join him.

“I’m glad you’re planning on expanding your take-down of Stern.”

“I never said that. I’m writing about the new season of the show.”

“If you want more information about what he’s really like, I’ll be happy to chat with you in private.” The older man pats his shoulder and heads off to his trailer.

Barclay waits until he’s gone, then goes to look for Ned. He has a hunch the director might like to know about Haye’s offer.

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

“...guess Ned put him in his place.” Stern finishes adjusting his tie as the scene sets up, “Sounds like he wanted his character to become the eventual lead, and thought shit-talking me would be the way to go.”

“I’m glad it’s sorted out.” Barclay pretends to be studying his notes so he doesn’t stare too noticeably at Stern’s ass.

“Me too. Thanks, Barclay.” Stern steps onto set, and as Ned begins running through the scene with Stern and the actor playing his (unbeknownst to him) alien lover, Bee, Barclay wishes he’d chosen to be elsewhere. Because this is a sex scene. With Stern. That he will be watching.

No, damn it, he’s a professional. His butt is staying in this chair.

He makes it through the several takes of the dialogue just fine, starts sweating a little when he kissing begins. Stern’s kisses strike a balance between tender and passionate, perfectly in character, and Barclay would give his right arm to trade places with Bee.

The action moves to the bed, Stern caressing his lover as they unbutton his shirt.

Okay, now he’d give his right arm and leg to be the one beneath him.

He reminds himself this airs on TNT, not HBO, so it can’t get much more explicit.

Sterns whole body drips with soft dominance as he pins Bee to the bed, cooing that he’s never seen a finer sight.

Fine, his right arm, leg, and any non-vital organs, he’ll trade them all in a second to hear Stern say that to him, even if it’s only pretend.

He doesn’t make it through the second take of the bed scene, hurries away as quietly as unobtrusively as he can. There’s no way he can make it to his motel like this, cock pressing so hard against his jeans he’s afraid he’ll end up with a zipper mark. And the bathrooms aren’t exactly private. He does have the key to Stern’s trailer, the actor having given it to him in case he needed somewhere air conditioned to rest from the heat. The trailer that is very nearby.

Does he dare?

The question hardly registers before he’s at the door, unlocking it and ducking inside before anyone sees. He leans against the counter with a groan, unzipping his pants and praying the pre-cum that immediately streaks his hand hasn’t made a noticeable spot in the denim.

He fumbles around to find some tissues, not wanting to face the humiliation of Stern walking in to find him cleaning cum off of his cabinets (he does actually want that humiliation, and badly, but not without Stern’s consent).

The strokes are hard and fast, his eyes shut so tight he sees static as he imagines Stern behind him, saying how much he wants him, how needy he is, how he’ll take care of him. He grits his teeth, breath leaving him in faint hisses and stifled moans until the temptation to say Stern’s name overwhelms him.

“Joe, Joe, fuck, Joe.”

“Yes, big guy?” A voice purrs in his ear as hands bracket him against the counter.

“Fuck” He tries to freeze, finds he’s shaking too much from want and worry to do so.

“You forgot to lock the door, silly boy. I, however, did not.”

“I’m, I’m sorry, I just needed to, fuck, I didn’t mean for you-”

One hand leaves the counter, strokes the base of his neck and toys with his hair, “what about this suggests I’m angry with this, um, development?”

Barclay whimpers, feet unwilling to turn and look Stern in the eye.

“Should I stop?” The tease goes from his voice.

All he can do is whimper again and shake his head.

The hand leaves his neck, slides down Barclay’s arm to rest atop his hand on the counter. The other takes it’s time snaking down his stomach and hips.

“Poor Barclay, no wonder you had to leave.” His hand nudges Barclay’s aside, takes it’s place around his cock, “you can probably see this thing from space. I’m taking this as a testament to my acting skills.” A laugh as he kisses Barclay’s neck, stroking him slowly.

“Please don’t say this is acting too.”

“It’s not.” A kiss to his cheek, a twist along his cock, both making him weak-kneed, “do you know what I was thinking about during that scene? I was thinking about you, what you’d look like if I fucked you. It’s only a quirk of anatomy” he grinds against Barclay’s ass, “that means I didn’t have a noticeable reaction on camera.”

“Fuck, Joe, more, please I need more of you, all of you, I’m so fucking close.”

The hand on his cock pulls away, “not just yet, big guy. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Uhuh.” He whines, pushing his hips forward to bump his cock along Stern’s hand.

A light smack on the ass, “behave. Take everything off and wait for me on the bed.”

“Uh huh.” He turns, only for a hand to firmly grasp his chin and force him to stay eye to eye with Stern.

“Try that response again, big guy, with better manners.”

“Y-yes, s-sir, I, I understand.”

He’s yanked into a demanding, possessive kiss, Stern stroking his cheek approvingly when he releases him, “Good boy. Is this alright?”

“Yes, yesyes, Joe, please, I love it, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, unless you say so. Promise you will if you need to?”

“I swear, cross my heart, babe, please.”

A loving laugh, coupled with a peck on the lips, “bed.”

Barclay strips so quickly he loses his balance, landing on the bed as he fights to pull off his pants. He tries to calm himself by folding his clothes and setting them aside, certain that if he gets more excited he’ll become the first confirmed case of human combustion.

“Hands and knees, please.”

“Oh fuck me.”

Stern is standing by the bed, naked from the waist down save for a strap-on, but still in his special agent clothes from the waist up.

“Do you like the suit, big guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Good to know. Maybe next time I’ll wear the whole thing while I fuck you. Now” he climbs onto the bed, “try to relax for me.”

A condom-covered finger presses against his ass as soon as he’s on his hands and knees, Stern working him open efficiently yet gently until he’s begging for more. Stern ruffles his hair, and then the toy is pushing into him. It’s narrow, so the stretch isn’t too bad, and for a moment he wonders if it will even do much for him.

“Let me see, if I just-”

“FUCKfuck” The curve of the toy finds his prostate.

“That’s part of why this is a favorite of mine, it’s so effective” he thrusts harder, “at finding the right spots.”

“Mhhhmmmmm” Barclay bites the pillow to muffle his moans and growls, wiggles his hips as Stern finds his pace.

“The other reason I like it…”

“SHIT, babe, baby, ohfuck that’s good.” The toy vibrates, sending heat all through him, “fuck, I’m gonna come in like th-thirty seconds from that.”

“Thirty seconds? Let’s see if you’re right, big guy.”

“GaaAAHfuck, Joe, yeah, yeahyesbabeyes.” He gives up on being quiet as the actor rams into him, drops to his elbows when the intensity makes it impossible to anything other than moan and and grunt and take it.

“That’s it, good boy, let’s see just how hard you are for me” Stern pants as he reaches around, teasing the head of Barclay’s cock, “perfect, you’re doing wonderfully, fuck” a groan of gratification as Barclay spurts across the bed, “messy, god I love making you come apart, even I might make you clean that with you tongue later.”

“Oh god.” Barclay moans, drool staining the pillow, as Stern loops an arm tightly around his waist and grinds, the toy still bumping and rumbling inside his ass.

“Nnn, Barclay, yes, hold out just a little longer, let me get off on this perfect ass.”

Barclay whines, sensitivity overloading his circuits and driving him wild.

“Just a little more big guy, fuck, fuck, lord almighty I’m close, c’mon, you can handle it, you can be good and take me as long as I need.”

“Yes, yes, wanna take you, wanna be yours, wanna serve you.”

“Fuck” Stern doubles over, hips working frantically, “that’s it, good boy, if you’re in this bed you, fuck, your only job is to please me.”

“Yes” Barclay sobs just as Stern moans into his shoulder. When he pulls out, Barclay flops, limp, onto his side.

“You with me, baby?” Stern wiggles out of the harness, lays so they’re face to face and cups Barclay’s cheek.

“Mmhmm. Fuck” he pulls Stern into a hug, “I can’t believe we just did that. That was fucking amazing.”

“Didn’t take you for the sub type.”

“Everyone always wants me to be big ‘n dommy. Don’t wanna. Wanna be someone’s good boy.” He’s slurring, mind still a bit foggy.

“You can be mine. In, um in not just a sex way, although it can be just a sex thing if you want it to.”

“Nope” He cuddles him closer, then it hits him, “you’re asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Please?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes” He kisses him after each answer, making them both laugh.

“It won’t fuck up your work?”

“I’ll ask Mama what she thinks, we might need to transfer the rest of the article to Thacker. Uh, maybe this is silly but, uh, can I take you to dinner? My treat?”

Stern kisses him, stars in his eyes and a hundred watt smile on his face, “that sounds perfect, big guy.”

#sternclay #meet ugly #agent stern/Barclay #celebrity AU #prompt fills

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ahiddenpath · 5 years ago

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Digimon Epilogue Celebration: Friendship

Some 2028 friendship headcanons below the cut. I’m focusing on our known Chosen, since I haven’t thought enough about how their kiddos would interact.

-Some of the Chosen interact frequently in a professional capacity, even if they aren’t in the same business. For example, Koushiro’s Digital World research and digimon technology advancements are relevant to Taichi as an ambassador, Ken as a digimon police officer, Jyou as a digimon doctor, and Iori as a lawyer specializing in the needs of digimon.

Although our babes are not suspicious by nature, they tend to trust each other first whenever possible. Sadly, they’ve suffered a lot at the hands of Chosen outside of their group abusing their ties to digimon and the inherent trust that the Chosen share as a global unit.

-Takeru spent a few months routinely calling and grilling everyone for info for his novels based on their adventures. This actually caused contention in the group; some of the Chosen disagree on what happened (it was a long time ago, and the human memory isn’t very reliable), and some of them didn’t want certain events published. Still, it’s Takeru, and... The Chosen have trouble saying no to Takeru. Some of them enjoyed the walk down memory lane... Others, not so much.

-Taichi and Yamato forever retain their... complicated, but intimate relationship. They each do a lot of traveling for work, and when they find themselves in the same city, they meet up for drinks/dinner/whatever the locals do for entertainment in that place. They don’t see each other often, but when they do... Everything instantly comes back, like they were never apart.

Which is both exceptionally comforting and annoying, because their bond is just as strange as is it strong. They ask each other uncomfortable questions and don’t take shit if they think the other is making a mistake. Phrases such as, “Get it together, ass” tend to come up. Frequently.

-You can pry Mimi and Sora’s ‘close friends forever’ relationship from my cold, dead hands. They rarely see each other in person- some years, the annual August 1 get-together is the only time- but they web chat, call, and text frequently. They are both boss ladies who support each other and promote each other’s businesses however they can. For all of their life, they provide each other with a safe place to talk without judgement, with nothing but support.

They also know how to paint the town on those rare times when they get together, especially when Miyako is there, too!

-SPEAKING OF BESTIES, Hikari and Miyako probably lived together at some point, but likely not for long, since Miyako and Ken married early. They are probably the Chosen friends who see each other the most frequently in person, since Hikari’s teaching job and Miyako’s stay at home mom job allow the time for it.

Miyako encourages Hikari to stand up for herself, love herself, and start therapy. Hikari gives Miyako outings and adult friendship time, which is vital for a SAHM. Their kids are close friends.

-Taichi chose a difficult life for himself as a Digital World/earth ambassador. The pressure and the mental load leak into his personal life. When his job or leave take him to the Tokyo area, he stops by Koushiro’s place, and sometimes stays there, depending on Koushiro’s workload at the time.

Taichi continues to tell Koushiro things he can’t tell anyone else. Koushiro is someone who... both admires Taichi and sees him as a leader, but also sees him as he is: a normal man with a lot on his shoulders who often needs a friendly ear and a quiet place to rest. In return, Koushiro can relax around Taichi, and he is usually willing to set his work aside for as long as Taichi needs him, outside of emergencies.

-Koushiro is in email contact with Miyako about their lives and his work. He encourages her to work as a Digital World researcher when her kids are all in school and helps her find a position.

-Ken and Daisuke are BEST BROS FOR LIFE, and they absolutely abuse their digital gate privileges to see each other from anywhere around the world, at any time. Miyako jokes about “did you marry me, or Daisuke,” but the truth is that she loves Daisuke, too, and joins them when she can.

Daisuke pops in from America with food from whatever restaurant he just discovered. Since he brings enough for the whole Ichijouji clan, he is warmly received by all. The night usually ends with a fun game of soccer with Daisuke, his son, and the Ichijoujis.

-Iori and Ken have an interesting relationship as adults, since their jobs bring them in contact so frequently. Ken once said, “See you at the next murder,” to Iori at a party, and Iori nodded, not realizing that they had horrified the other party guests (who did not realize that Ken meant ‘in court, where I will be offering evidence from the scene and you will be defending someone’).

Ken and Iori respect the hell out of each other. Happily, if they do see each other in court, they are usually on the same team/have the same goal of defending the innocent.

When they are both available, they sometimes attend meditation classes together.

-As an adult, Jyou continues his trend of “difficult to get in touch with.” Being a doctor in a whole new field is no joke! But he drops everything if he isn’t at the hospital to help any Chosen with a medical concern.

He tends to be in contact most frequently with Koushiro, often to discuss their research/work, and with Yamato. He and Yamato can tell each other anything without judgement, and though they rarely see each other in person, they talk on the phone at least monthly.

-Miyako and Mimi try their best to see each other at least quarterly, but it’s difficult for Mimi to make the time. Still, they call about once a week, and their conversations are usually energetic, happy, and refreshing for both parties. Miyako loves hearing Mimi’s juicy studio gossip and travel stories, although she sometimes feels a little envious of Mimi’s lifestyle.

-Takeru and Hikari have a few periods (when they’re both single) when everyone suspects they’re dating on the down low. Who knows! Although they don’t see each other often, they check in once every few months. Hikari loves Takeru’s sense of humor, but his... big personality can be difficult for her to deal with at times. Takeru has had a quiet crush on Hikari for a long time.

-Sora and Taichi are in phone/web chat contact, sometimes often, sometimes not. To be honest, Taichi sometimes avoids Sora when he’s low, or he knows she will scold him (because he effed up). Sora sometimes feels a little guilt about how far apart life has taken them, since they used to hang out daily in elementary school.

Sora sees Taichi’s struggles from afar and wants to help, but Taichi tends to make that difficult. Still, Sora’s warmth usually wins the day, and they connect when they really need each other. When Taichi is in a good mood, his positive attitude lifts Sora up.

-Jyou and Mimi aren’t in contact often, but they find time for the odd phone call here and there. Mimi looks up to Jyou and wants to support him in his career and his life. Her cheerfulness can turn a hard day at the hospital around.

-Daisuke forever looks up to Taichi, even when life has one or both of them down. They see each other whenever Taichi is in NYC for work, and Daisuke cooks for him and takes him to whatever restaurant is his current favorite. Taichi never says so, but Daisuke’s admiration for him means a lot.

-Takeru and Yamato share lifelong brotherhood. Takeru will never stop adoring Yamato, and Yamato will never stop caring for Takeru (and worrying about him). They babysit for each other and have family outings together.

-Hikari and Taichi are maybe a little more distant as they grow up than Takeru and Yamato? But the siblings will drop everything if one or the other needs help, and they always have a good, supportive relationship.

-BONUS: Eimi (my headcanon Koushiro’s significant other) is often in contact with Jyou, as their hands-on work with digimon leads to information that they both need. She also requests Ken’s help when she discovers another lab doing something shifty with digimon, or abuse of technology that she, Koushiro, or her coworkers at the National Data Bureau have developed.

Eimi has seen Chosen outside of Taichi’s group abusing their status, so she insists on dealing with Taichi/Jyou/Iori/Ken when she needs help in their fields (and Koushiro, of course). She thinks her coworkers yield to this because they also want the assistance of the most famous Chosen. That’s not wrong... But what she doesn’t realize is that being Koushiro’s wife gives her clout in digimon situations. It’s for the best that she doesn’t feel her own influence; she assumes that everyone is looking to the original Chosen and not noticing what she’s up to.

Her closest relationships among Koushiro’s Chosen friends are with Jyou and Ken, whom she frequently works with. But Taichi spends time at her apartment to see Koushiro, and the unique troubles he faces tug at Eimi’s heartstrings. Koushiro is somewhat alarmed when she takes on an almost motherly attitude towards his Chosen leader and upperclassman- Eimi talks to Taichi in ways that Koushiro wouldn’t dare to (unsolicited advice/kind-hearted nagging)! Taichi grumbles about it, but enjoys being doted on.

I think this was my favorite prompt so far!!!!!

#digimonepiloguecelebration #digimon epilogue celebration #chosen children #digidestined

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reliciron · 5 years ago

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Notes on Redeeming Arcann: Part 1

Ok, here are my thoughts on redeeming Arcann. This is just my own current analysis of his character and where I might take him in possible future fics. If someone has a different interpretation I would love to hear it as my own ideas on him continue to shift. If anyone is struggling with his character, I hope this might give you a starting point or jog some new ideas. And if you’re just reading this because you like character analysis (I do too), then I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too incoherent.

This first part will focus more on redeeming Arcann. The second will be my thoughts on his character motivations.

Part 2

Alright, this is going to be very, very long, so strap in.

Ok, so since I don’t have a lot of experience writing, I felt my own grasp of what it takes to redeem a villain was a little too shaky to do Arcann’s redemption justice on my own. He’s admittedly a pretty horrific character at his worst, and the game itself really doesn’t do a very good job of giving him a believable redemption arc. I feel it would be very easy for an inexperienced writer like me to fall into character apologia and try to ignore what he’s done in favor of ‘it’s not his fault’. Fiction is full of men who act like jerks and excuse it with daddy issues, and I’m really trying to carry that awareness into his redemption so I can avoid that pitfall. The atrocities he committed were his choices, but understanding why he became a character who would make those choices does not mean that he wasn’t ultimately at fault for what he did.

So with that in mind I did a quick search, looked through a few guides on redemption, and eventually settled on this one.

In an effort to make this smooth, I have copy/pasted the major points from the article and put them in brackets with my responses following each one.

[Realism is derived from a multitude of factors, but one of the most important is having authentic motives. Villainy is a dark path for a reason – it’s hard to come back from – which is why you need a super-bright ‘why’ torch to help your baddie see the light.

The best way to create a ‘why’ (or a motive) is to understand where it comes from. For example:

Maybe your villain wants a bigger pay off and this is how he thinks he will get it

He could be taking an order from someone more powerful

A more emotional reason might be that the hero appeals to his heart by saving someone the villain cares about

Or perhaps the villain just wants to right a wrong or past mistake]

-----

Ok, so Arcann has a little of the last 2 of those reasons. Now that he’s gone through the Force Healing dishwasher, he wants to try and make up for all the horrible things he did (Mostly the people he killed for shits and giggles while hunting down the Outlander. War is war, and he might not beat himself up over the people he personally killed on the battlefield. They made the choice to be soldiers/Jedi/Sith, and they knew they might die when they went up against him.)

He was also swayed by the Outlander letting him and Senya go, and how they cared for her while he was figuring things out.

-----

[Whatever the plot point for justifying your villain’s redemption, you can create added depth to their motive by linking it to an old wound in his past.]

-----

His mother left, and it’s possible that he still wonders what would have happened if he and his siblings had gone with her (I can’t remember if he touched on this in one of his cut-scenes during KOTFE). But more importantly, no one has ever come back for him except his brother. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect Vaylin to care about him enough to help him unless it benefits her, so after Thexan’s death he feels like he’s alone and nobody would miss him if he died. And that’s… really not a good place to be.

He doesn’t feel connected to his people since I doubt he ever saw much of them while growing up, so it’s easier to treat them like dirt if he can’t empathize with them. Also, the closest person to him, and the only one he seems to care about, is Vaylin, and she’s even more messed up than him so they just echo each other’s cruelty and drive each other to new heights of awfulness.

So that’s why it’s so important to him and game changing that his mom shows up after he’s been defeated.

Now the scene in KotFE goes like this: Senya finds Arcann dead (unconscious) and pinned under a bunch of debris. She drags him out and cries because she thinks he’s dead. Then Vaylin shows up, and while Senya is focused on her, Arcann blinks awake. Vaylin starts to attack, and Arcann stops her. Blah blah blah, Senya saves Arcann because he tried to protect her and she “feels the good in him”.

Ok.

(Keep in mind, my computer chugs much worse if I have the background music on, so I always play with it off. So scenes that maaaaay be relying too much on the music to carry the emotional weight, don’t have that crutch to lean on when I see them.)

Putting aside some dumb stuff, like why didn’t Senya sense that he was alive, and why didn’t she “sense the good in him” until after he pushed Vaylin away, here’s a few tweaks I might make:

Senya finds Arcann badly injured and pinned under debris. She realizes that he’s still breathing so she drags him out, sits down, and cradles him in her arms. She fully expects that he’s going to die, and her resolve crumbles. She rocks him gently and sings to him, her voice breaking here and there as the ship comes apart around them. She left her children once, and she refuses to leave Arcann again. She’s going to stay with him until he succumbs to his wounds, or the ship disintegrates.

To her surprise, he begins to wake. He turns his head into her chest, instinctively remembering her voice and the way she’d sing when comforting him and his brother after a painful day of training. He opens his eyes blearily with a mumbled “Mother?”. And now, finally, after years of being apart, she senses the conflict in him. Buried under years of pain and rage, is the tiny flicker of the boy she used to know.

The ship shudders underneath them and she makes her choice.

She hauls him up and throws his remaining arm over her shoulders. He can barely support his own weight and is fading in and out of consciousness as she drags him off the dais. They’re almost to the door when Vaylin appears and cuts them off.

Senya pleads with her, but Vaylin refuses to see reason and moves to kill her. Senya tries to throw Arcann out of the way, but the minute his arm is clear he manages to force push Vaylin away, where she appears to be crushed under falling debris.

Senya can’t save both of them, but she didn’t feel any conflict in Vaylin. So she chooses Arcann and takes him to the shuttle.

After they’re far enough away, Vaylin comes to in a rage, only to find that she’s missed her chance. She too, escapes in a patrol vessel.

-----

[Epiphany Redemption

Sometimes we don’t realize we have bad habits until someone tells us or we suddenly become aware of them. One of the most famous epiphany redemption examples is Scrooge going through an awakening. With the help of the Christmas ghosts, he’s shown the impact of his actions which causes him to see that he’s been leading a terrible life. The end of the story show him as a changed man, being kind and charitable to others.]

----

This sounds like what happened to Arcann.

It could be that with his mind clouded with pain and a likely concussion, he forgets his anger enough to think that, if his mother cared enough to save him and feels there’s still good in him, maybe there is.

It could be worked into the healing ritual, instead of this nebulous “light sapping the dark from him while he lays unconscious” thing. It could be that the ritual lifts all of his emotional baggage up so that he can view his past choices through a clear lens. Kind of A Christmas Carol speed-run, where his actions flash by in his mind and the horror of what he’d become slowly builds and replaces some of the rage. So the healing ritual doesn’t cure him of the darkness, so much as it’s a cold dose of the reality of his actions without the rage and bad justifications covering it up. The pain and rage is still there, and he’ll have to deal with it naturally later (get that boy a THERAPIST), but it no longer gets in the way of his decision making and he’s free to make better choices.

This explains why he was so panicked when he woke up that he didn’t notice his mother was still alive. And her “death” was just one more horrible thing he’s done. That even in healing, he still manages to kill the people close to him.

(It’s also why I always take the choice to tell him that Senya’s still alive right before he flies away, to spare him from that extra self hatred.)

-----

[It takes time. Just as a hero takes an entire novel to overcome her flaw, it will take some time for a villain to make this monumental change. Don’t let them flip-flop like a beached fish between good and evil – the change needs to build slowly throughout the book.]

----

I think this is the main issue that a lot of people seem to have with Arcann’s redemption. The healing ritual was such a hand-wavy “ok he’s better now” cop-out for what would normally be months or years of interesting character development.

I understand of course. This is a game, not a book series. There isn’t time to give Arcann the kind of focus that sort of development needs, and they weren’t allowed to weave his redemption too much into the story because not everyone spares him.

We can lessen the impact of this by ignoring some canon things and writing around others, but it would take a major rewrite of a large chunk of KotET to integrate this point.

-----

[Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow. Readers don’t like to be cheated. You need to drop breadcrumbs throughout your story to let your reader know subconsciously that the villain is going to change, otherwise they’ll feel cheated. It doesn’t take much – the occasional soft glance from the villain, a nicely spoken sentence, and action that is ‘good’ rather than evil. Tiny clues.]

-----

There were tiny hints here and there, but not really enough for my taste and they were very easy to miss.

Some examples I can think of are:

He sort of yells at Vaylin at one point and without her saying anything, he immediately backs off, calms his voice down, and tells her that he’s not blaming her. She’s flippant about it, but it made it clear that he cares about her enough to treat her with respect and what little affection he’s capable of at that point.

@swtorpadawan made a good point in this post about how Arcann’s hesitation in destroying the Gravestone might’ve been because he sensed his mother’s presence.

And while I don’t think it was supposed to be hesitation on Arcann’s part, just the game forgetting about the time as we are shown Koth lining up the shot, he technically DID hesitate in killing the Outlander after he stabbed them (assuming you refused Valkorian’s power). There was a decent length of time where he had them, mortally wounded and defenseless, and he hesitated so long that Koth discovered the scene, figured out a plan, and shot out that big thing on the ceiling.

-----

[Don’t make it easy. It’s hard for the hero to overcome her flaw and likewise, it should be hard for a villain to overcome his. A quick way to make it harder for the villain to redeem himself is to catch him between two of his values. For example, while this character isn’t a villain, it still illustrates the point: Ned Stark in Game of Thrones values loyalty and wisdom – his wisdom tells him if he helps his King it will inevitably lead to his death, and yet, his loyalty forces him to help the King anyways.]

----

This one is closely tied to the “it takes time” point, and is also horribly ignored in the story. Once he’s healed he’s practically a different person. Now I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t devote much time to his writing since he’s an optional character, or if they meant to write him like this, but it’s still unfortunate.

He strikes me as determined and ruthless (like his mom). His interaction with Thexan and his commitment to the Outlander seems to imply that he’s loyal once he’s found someone worthy of it. He’s intelligent, but can be arrogant sometimes (of course this will have been knocked down a few pegs since the Outlander kicked his ass).

An easy point of conflict between his values (especially soon after he joins the Alliance), would be between his loyalty to the Outlander and his ruthlessness.

He could be on a mission with the Outlander, and have an enemy defeated but alive. The Outlander might want to spare them, while his ruthlessness demands their death. He knows how people like this work, that sparing them is a good way to get stabbed in the back, and if the Outlander is too softhearted to look out for themselves then he will.

BUT the Outlander is showing him trust by letting him accompany them, both trust that Arcann won’t kill them and that he will follow orders. Their trust is extremely precious to him (especially if he’s already crushing on the Outlander) so he really wants to do as they say.

He’s forced to balance their trust against his need to protect them.

------

[Don’t let them go soft. Villains are villains for a reason. Keep them authentic by retaining some of their sharper personality edges. Just because their actions are good doesn’t mean the whole of them will be.]

-----

I feel like this one is especially important, and also terribly overlooked.

Arcann learned some bad habits while being a villain and even when growing up, some of those should carry over into his healed self.

They might lessen with time and careful retraining, but he will always have sharp edges.

He will probably have a temper (although this must be handled very carefully to avoid making him look childish and abusive).

And if someone he cares about is threatened he may fly into a rage until they can calm him down. This rage may be followed by flashbacks of the battles he’s been through and the way the hatred felt in his gut, leaving him panicked and shaky once it’s over.

He probably has nightmares regularly, and care must be taken in waking him up to avoid a violent response, same thing with sneaking up on him: DON”T.

Honestly, the dude went through so much and did so many horrible things that I don’t see how he wouldn’t have PTSD. He certainly has self-hatred up to his eyeballs.

-------

One more thing:

Once he’s joined the Alliance, I think we need to be careful when writing him to make sure that his goal of trying to make up for the horrible things he’s done isn’t overlooked. I mean yeah, he’s helping by coming along on missions with the Commander, but that is super small time stuff compared to what he’s done and I don’t think he’d be satisfied with it for long.

He’s an intelligent man with experience commanding armies on the battlefield, and an extremely talented Force-user. At minimum, and when not accompanying the Outlander, he should spend most of his day immersed in Alliance reports giving tactical advice (once they trust him enough, of course) and helping with combat training in the Force Enclave. When they trust him more, he can maybe become the official liaison between the Alliance and Zakuul, using the resources and tech of his home world to help the reconstruction on the planets he bombarded and getting Zakuul what they need as well.

Of course, once the Republic/Empire war starts up again, his position will change and he may take on a more military role, commanding offensives on behalf of whichever side the Alliance has picked.

My point is, wallowing in emotional hurt/comfort and developing romance is really fun and satisfying, but don’t forget his promise to atone for his misdeeds.

#swtor #arcann #redeeming a villain #writing #relicwrites #kotfe #kotet #arcann tirall

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heyyyharry · 6 years ago

Text

My Girl Series: Chapter 6 - This Time

…in which Y/N needs a wedding date, and this time Harry’s not giving up.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 5: Somebody Else - Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, and no one else.

A little happy gift from sad Allie 😂 You’re welcome.

wattpad link

It had been two weeks since the last time Y/N saw Harry.

Like a ghost, he disappeared into thin air without a single clue only to reappear on a sunny Thursday afternoon via a simple text, saying he was waiting for her outside her flat and that it was an emergency. When she received that message, Y/N was in the library and had to drop everything at once to rush back home for him.

It was not until she had run up five floors and saw him standing outside her door with the brightest smile on his face, intact, that she realized she had been worried all for nothing.

"Hey, Bam—Ouch!" He jumped away, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where she'd just hit him, mouth agape. "What was that for?"

"'Come home quick. Emergency'? Emergency my ass! I was shit-scared when I read your text."

"This is an emergency." He bent down and picked up the paper bag at his feet. "I bought you ice cream and it's melting."

"Ice cream?" She dropped her jaw, hands on her hips. "I thought something bad had happened to you, H!"

"You thought I was in trouble and came home right away?"

Y/N rolled her eyes in response to that idiotically gorgeous smile of his, yet she decided not to answer that question.

"What's the occasion?" She asked, eyes fixed on the paper bag full of snacks he was carrying. She didn't understand why he looked so shocked as if she was supposed to know the answer already.

Wait, am I supposed to?

It took the girl a moment to remember the date, and when she had, she felt like the shittiest person alive.

It was her mother's birthday.

When they were little, Harry had always helped her prepare a small birthday party for her mother each year. They would make cupcakes and birthday cards together. Now that her mother was gone, he knew it was meaningless to come over with ice-cream for her and flowers for her mum since there was nothing left to celebrate. But he felt like he should, hoping his presence would count for something.

"I can't believe I forgot mum's birthday," she groaned into her palms, mentally cursing herself for being so thoughtless. But he knew it wasn't her fault, she didn't mean to forget. A lot of things had happened in her life recently, starting from her dad's engagement, to her struggles with her unfinished first novel, her unpaid rents, and then of course...him.

Harry was just about to say something when the girl lifted her face up, eyes squinted at him. "How did you..."

"Your dad told me you always visited her on her birthday..."

"My dad? Are you best friends with him now?"

"No, I just—"

"Don't." She raised a finger so he wouldn't continue, and he was waiting for her to tell him to leave. To his surprise, she didn't this time. She just took a long pause and asked him if he could give her a ride to the train station, so she could catch the next train back to Cheshire.

Y/N assumed a famous actor like Harry didn't have much free time to spare, and she really had to think twice before asking him for such a favor. After all, he had his own busy life, he wasn't her personal chauffeur.

The last thing she would expect to hear from him was, "I'll drive you back to Cheshire."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow at the man and he supposed she thought he was only kidding. He definitely wasn't. "It's a four-hour drive, H."

"Then we should leave now." He pressed his lips into a small smile, and her heart suddenly forgot how to beat.

She didn't know why he was doing all of that for her. She just asked for a small favor which he could have easily declined, still, he volunteered to drive nearly 200 miles so she could visit her mother's grave. She honestly didn't get it but she didn't want to ask him why.

"Thank you so much," she said. "I owe you this once."

"Wait, but..."

"But what?" Y/N had already climbed down a couple stairs when she stopped to look back at him.

"We should put the melting ice cream in the fridge." He nodded towards the door, making her smile.

It was actually the first smile he'd received from his Bambi after two weeks away from her and Harry couldn't put into words how glad he was to see it again. He knew they still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had a whole four hours in the car to worry about that. Right now, he let himself be happy.

The drive was long but neither of them was tired. Harry and Y/N blasted music in their car while driving away from the big city, singing songs they didn't know all the words to at the top of their lungs with the windows down and wind in their hair. Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this free. He didn't have to worry about all the responsibilities waiting for him in London, nor think about how his manager would react when he found out Harry had rescheduled another interview for personal reasons. At that moment, in his car driving down the empty country road, it was just him and her and no one else.

When the music had become louder than their own voices, Harry stole a quick glance at the girl sitting by his side. She was too distracted by the beautiful sunset to continue singing or even catch his eyes on her.

"Watch out!"

Harry steered the wheel just in time to dodge the massive hole on the road. The car bounced ahead pretty hard, causing him to grip onto the wheels and her to scream out loud. Fortunately, both were safe as was the car but his heart was still beating out of control. When he turned to give her an apologetic grin, she smacked him right on the arm, telling him to be careful or else they would be dead before they even reached the graveyard. That threat really had the 24-year-old rooted to his seat. Maybe from now on, he should keep his eyes on the road instead of her.

When they arrived at Graceland Cemetery in Holmes Chapel, the sky was already pitch dark. Under the pale moonlight, the iron front gate looked exactly like one of those gateways to hell in the horror films she was obsessed with but he loathed deeply. He walked closer to her, one arm hugging the bouquet of lilies to his chest, the other gripping onto her arm as they passed many headstones laying all out of order on the muddy ground. It took them five minutes or so to get to where Y/N's mother was laid.

The girl kneeled down on the sew grass without minding the soil would ruin her beautiful white dress. She burnt three jasmine scented candles on the ground after laying the lilies down by her mother's grave.

"Happy birthday, mum," she mumbled, smiling at the grey stone with her mother's name on it. "I love and miss you very much, and I'm so sorry that I'm late today."

Watching her from the side made Harry feel like he was intruding the special mother-daughter moment and he intended to walk away. But all it took was one sound of his name from her lips and Harry's feet immediately grew roots into the ground.

"Harry is with me. He drove me all the way here from London so I could see you." With a faint smile, she turned to him. "Don't worry. He takes very good care of me."

The green-eyed man could hear his heartbeats echoing in his ear as all the hair on his arms stood to attention. He didn't know whether it was because of the cool April breezes blowing through his thin jacket, or the fact that they were in the middle of a graveyard, or the lovely hue in her sparkling eyes as they were gazing at him. What he did knew was in that very moment she might also feel the same, maybe a little if not entirely. And that was all it mattered.

"Since we're already here, do you wanna stop by to say hello to Anne?"

"My mum's on vacation actually. There's nobody home," Harry said as he made his way to Y/N, standing with his back against the car like she was as they both looked up at the magnificent view above their heads, a sky full of stars.

The sight was almost surreal, like the whole world had been covered in black velvet with little diamonds strung up as decorations. For too long Harry had been living in the big city where all the best views were hidden behind skyscrapers, and the busy lives on the ground didn't allow him to look up, not even once. Now in an open field with just them two and the sound of crickets chirping in fading moonlight, he could finally feel alive.

"You don't get to see this in London, right?" She said as both of them turned to look at each other at the same time.

"I think I've missed out on a lot of things since I left this town," he said, almost as a soft whisper for only them to hear. The stars were mirrored in her crystal clear eyes like little shiny specks of magic dust. The sight of it reminded him of the lake behind his high school on a summer night, when it looked like the water had captured the moon and all the stars. To him, Y/N was no different from that summer late. She carried the entire universe in those eyes.

"Harry," her voice, with the help of a cold breeze, soon dragged him back to reality. She was still looking at him and her expression was unreadable as she questioned, "have you ever considered talking Anne into selling that house?"

"No. She loves that place too much," he said. "Gemma and I don't wanna sell it either."

There was a pause.

"Thank you," she finally said, giving him another smile and looking up again.

Harry knew she meant to ask about their treehouse. She wanted to know if he'd ever thought about selling away one of the few things that were proof of what they used to have. Then she thanked him because he hadn't. Somewhere deep inside he felt joy because now he knew she still looked back to those days to the kids they once were. Maybe the part of him inside of her had never really faded away.

"Do you wanna stop by our treehouse?" He asked all of a sudden and he could tell from her reaction that she was taken aback.

"No, thanks." Y/N shook her head. "I might run into those two."

"Your dad and Marcy."

She confirmed with a sigh, puckering up her lips.

"I got their wedding invitation last week," he said, smiling at her but she was far from happy to hear that.

"I did too, but it's now in the bin." She shrugged, eyes on the stars whereas he was still staring at her. "I'm not going to their wedding."

"Why?"

"Because that would make me feel like I'm betraying my mother."

"But that's your dad. He really wants you to show up."

"So? He's a shit dad anyway."

Harry knew it wasn't his business when he received that stubborn eye-roll from her. He understood that she had every single right to hate that man for all he had done to her and her mother. But Harry cared about Y/N too much to let her keep tormenting herself and her father this way.

"Look, kid, I know he's shit at being a dad but...at least...he's still trying to be one."

That sentence made Y/N turn her head to face him once again. It had been too long, yet she could still remember the photo he had kept in his bedroom. The only photo of the man she had never seen before.

When nine-year-old Y/N asked him who it was, thirteen-year-old Harry hesitated for a little while before telling her it was his father. Before then she had assumed that every dad had to either live with their children, or come visit them once in a while like Celine’s dad. But from Harry's story, she learned that not every father wanted to be close to their kids and watch them grow. Harry's father had left his family since Harry was still too young to remember. Just like Y/N, he had never met the man. His mother had thrown away everything that belonged to his father, except for that one photo the little boy found in the attic and decided to keep as a secret. He had never shown it to anyone but the little girl next door.

Eyes still on her, Harry took a deep breath and squeezed the hand she put on her knee. "You don't have to forgive everything he's done but please don't cut him off for good. At least show up at his wedding."

"I can't do it alone." She shook her head fast and lowered it so she could stare at her feet instead of him. "I couldn't even have dinner with them alone..."

"Then I'll go with you. Sounds good?" He titled his head to read her face, squeezing the girl's hand a little bit tighter to remind her that he was there for her.

And after a moment of thinking, she finally answered, "I'll think about it and...let you know."

It was nearly 8PM when Harry and Y/N got back into their car to head back to London. The drive home was rather silent since both of them had been exhausted and it was getting late. They put on some slow songs and drove through the night with eyes kept away from each other. The scent of candle wax mixed with fresh soil still remained on her clothes. It smelt rather delicate, reminding him of a garden full of jasmines, and he loved it just as much as he knew she did.

"Where have you been?" She finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them both.

"Where have I been?"

"In the last two weeks. What? You have a tendency of ghosting on the people in your life once in a while?"

The people in his life, he knew she meant her and Isaac. He couldn't straight off tell her that he'd only been avoiding them while keeping contact with everyone else in his life. She wouldn't understand and hate him as much as she had before.

So he told her he'd been busy getting ready for a new role for a movie which started shooting in the summer. It was also the truth, well, half of it. He'd left out the part about him trying to figure out what he wanted and what he was willing to give up in order to be happy. By the end, he'd realized that he missed her too much to be able to stay away from her life and still feel joy at the same time. He'd done it before, living six years without knowing where or how she was. But now that she had come back, he must admit that it was a struggle trying not to think about her every second of the day.

"Don't worry. I won't disappear like that again," he said.

She didn't reply and he didn't hope that she would believe him. He could always show her that he was sincere.

Harry parked his car outside her building and they both got out at the same time. He was slightly disappointed because he wanted to open the car door for her like they did in those romantic films. But then again he remembered, his Bambi was never one of those cliché leading girls.

Before he could open his mouth to say goodnight and goodbye, Y/N pulled him into a sudden hug and thanked him for everything he'd done for her that day.

"Do you want to come in?" She asked, to his surprise. "There's ice cream in the fridge."

Her offer made him smile.

"I would love to," he said and for sure meant it. "But I can't. I've got dinner with Niall."

"Dinner at midnight?"

"That restaurant opens until 3AM." He shrugged, checking his watch. "But...I'm kind of an hour late now."

"Oh, okay. See you another time then?"

"Sure." He stroked her tangled hair and pressed his lips to her forehead as he wished her goodnight. When they parted, he felt strangely incomplete even though she wasn't even out of sight. Harry now began to think he had turned into one of those clingy high school boys who couldn't stop missing his secret crush, and the fact that he had just implied that she was his secret crush was already too embarrassing. He had no control of whatever going on inside his brain anymore, and he felt like it should be a bad thing.

"What are you doing next Friday night?" He shouted out the question, making the girl turn around just as she reached the glass doors.

"Uh...Probably studying for my finals. Why?"

"You stay at home and study on your birthday?" The amusement in that question of his had her eyes widened and her jaw fell open. That was when the man realized she had not only forgotten her mother's birthday, but also her own.

"Right." She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "Now that I remember. I do have plans on that night."

"Oh...With Isaac?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

Even though he had already seen it coming and received that apologetic look from her, Harry still felt like crap. He told her it was no big deal as he got back into his car and started the engine. They waved at each other one last time before he departed. This time, the girl stayed exactly where she was, watching his car until it blended into the moving traffic on the busy avenue.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

"Aren't you always?"

Niall blew up his cheeks as he closed the menu in his hand, dark blue eyes narrowed at Harry, who was still trying to catch his breath as he told the waiter to get him whatever his friend had already ordered.

"And two glasses of Cheval Blanc 2010," he quickly added, with a smile.

"We only sell that by the bottle, sir."

"Bring me a bottle then."

"Wait." Niall held up a hand just as the waiter turned away. "He'll have a glass of water."

"A glass of water?" The actor snorted.

Niall Horan was the least serious person he'd ever known but this time the guy wasn't joking. The singer nodded his head, telling the waiter to leave them and intertwined his fingers on the table, intense eyes staring his best friend down.

"You can't show up here drunk and order a whole bottle of wine, Harold."

"I'm not drunk."

"Then why's your face red and why do you keep smiling like an idiot?"

That one simple question got Harry tongue-tied. He thought he might know the answer. But he couldn't even say it to himself let alone to his best friend who couldn't even keep a secret for longer than a day. Of course, he loved Niall with all his heart and would do anything for that man had he asked just once. But there was a good reason he would always confide in Isaac and had to think twice before confessing something to his other best friend.

"Are you sure you're sober, Harold?" Niall asked, probably still suspecting Harry was lying to him

"I am. Absolutely!"

"Good. I don't wanna see you as that drunk mess when the witch left again."

Niall paused as soon as he realized what he had just said, slowly lifting his eyes to check his best friend's reaction. Despite not mentioning any name, he knew Harry could already tell whom he was referring to. Of course, Niall didn't mean to bring her up at a happy dinner like this, it just slipped out by accident. Now he felt so bad about it.

Harry hadn't thought about Ruby for weeks now. He'd blocked her number and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd checked social media to see what she had been up to. Ever since the BAFTAs, the name Ruby Ellis had completely vanished from his mind. But Niall accidentally bringing her up tonight was almost like opening up an old wound.

Harry didn't know how to describe his relationship with Ruby, if it was ever a relationship. But his feelings for her had been real. His pain, his jealousy, his tears, his nightmares, all of them had been real. He couldn't even describe the post-goodbye since it had been the worst six months of his entire life. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming her name and reaching out to search for her figure only to hold onto air on the empty side of his bed. What he and Ruby had together was heaven and hell at the same time. So when he'd escaped from the maze that was her heart, and finally looked back from an outsider's point of view, he realized how wrong she had been for him, how much she had damaged him, physically and emotionally.

But he had loved her. He really had loved her. So much to the point even now if he was walking down the street, he would turn his head the second he smelt her favorite perfume on a stranger. However, some people were only meant to stay in your memory and not in your heart or your arms, and Harry had to learn it the hardest way in order to let her go.

"Don't worry. I'm not going back there again," he said, giving his best friend a reassuring smile.

"I believe in you." Niall reached out to hold his wrist. "She taught you to smoke and you quitted. Now you could quit her."

That sounded so sad, yet so true.

His ex-lover was nothing more than a bad habit.

The mood at the two gentlemen's table was lifted once again when the waiter from earlier returned with their food and two crystal glasses of mineral water. Niall had quite a passion for food as he did for music, so the look on his face when he saw the steaming dishes laid down in front of his eyes made Harry dissolve into laughter.

"I'm gonna take a photo for Isey," said the singer as he unlocked out his phone and rose from his chair to find a good angle for the shot.

"Why isn't he here though?" Harry asked. "Is he busy?"

"What are you talking about? He's in Rome right now. Didn't he tell you?"

"He's on vacation?"

"More like workation." Niall sat back down, rolling his eyes and put his phone away to grab the napkin. "You should try the fish, Harry. It's marvelous."

"Niall, what do you mean?" Harry honestly couldn't concentrate on eating at the moment to even think about how marvelous the fish was. "He's working in Italy? For how long?"

"At least six months or more. I don't know."

"Six months? But Y/N's birthday is next week."

"Who's Y/N?"

Harry sighed in frustration as he corrected himself, "Bambi."

"Oh, right! The Bambi/Smiley girl." Niall chuckled, shaking his head. "Isey asked her to be his girlfriend last week, but at that point, he still hadn't received the offer to shoot for Vogue Italy. Somehow Smiley...I mean Bambi found out about it so she turned him down. Isey was really sad so he flew off to Rome without telling anyone, and I just found out last night when I asked him to come with us. I assumed you'd already known because he always told you everything."

As Niall went on with his speculations about how Y/N had discovered the Vogue thing, Harry could only try to make sense why she'd lied to him that she had birthday plans with Isaac, knowing the guy was in Rome. Maybe she didn't want Harry to feel pity for her, maybe she just wanted to be alone, or maybe she thought he had done too much for her and didn't want him to show up at her door with a teddy bear and pink balloons with her initial on them. Anyway, her two best friends were in Boston and she obviously wouldn't come home for dinner with her dad and his new woman. So he couldn't let her celebrate her 20th birthday with a stack of books and way too much caffeine. Harry had missed many of her birthdays already and that was entirely his fault. But this time he had to do things differently.

"Niall." He calmly looked at his friend who had already finished half of the fish. "Do you happen to know any stargazing spot in London?"

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maotranslates · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 7 - A Lively Scene

Novel: Qi Ye 七爷 (Lord Seventh) by Priest

Notes: Hi everyone! I’m really glad some people are interested in reading this, since originally I wasn’t sure if anyone else would care about this when I picked it up. Some parts of this chapter were honestly very difficult for me to translate, so if you find mistakes, please let me know! (Unfortunately, I don’t have an editor, I do my best to translate and edit by myself in my free time.)

Wu Xi’s hands in his sleeves tightened into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. The lofty and remote man held his chin with one hand and smiled, making him feel an indescribable sense of discomfort. He thought, that person looking at your own appearance is like a noble looking at kittens and puppies for fun.

The high ceiling of the main hall seemed like a small sky, the lifelike dragon on the big pillar spiraling through the sky and straight into the Imperial Court. Everyone’s eyes fell on him. Wu Xi thought that he had always been calm, and that he had learned a lot from the Grand Sorcerer and knew what was right and what was wrong, but he had never been unable to control himself the way he was now.

In South Xinjiang, the Grand Sorcerers were their gods, and the people deeply respected the Grand Sorcerers just as they respected the great god Jia Xi. The sorcerer youths were the Grand Sorcerers of the future, and it was said that they were little messengers from the heavens. Leaving home, he grew up next to the Grand Sorcerer and learned all kinds of things. In the eyes of his people, he was not any less worthy of respect because he was a child.

It was like a rush of blood suddenly went through his heart, violently wanting to break through his body and pounce on all the people who disrespected him.

Wu Xi turned his head and saw the expressions of A Xinlai and the others--his brave people and warriors stood there, disgraced. Their faces showed anger that they could not express with indignation, these men who did not even retreat when confronting wild beasts and poisonous snakes, at that moment, had to raise their heads to look at those lofty, arrogant people.

It was like a bunch of small bugs getting trampled on.

Wu Xi took a deep breath and slowly spoke in the unfamiliar official language: "The things that the Emperor talked about are probably from the sorcery of the Central Plains. We have no such things in South Xinjiang."

"Oh? Then what do you cultivate?"

Wu Xi gave him a fixed glance, and not just He Lianpei who he stared at, but also Jing Qi who was standing beside him, couldn’t help but feel that the child’s eyes were very strange, with an unusual demonic energy. It made people feel uncomfortable in their hearts, not at all lovable like the other children.

Wu Xi stood up: "Would the Emperor allow me to demonstrate?"

He Lianpei busily nodded and said: "Good, do you need any supplementary items?"

Wu Xi didn't talk, his exposed eyes curving slightly for a moment, as if he was smiling, but Jing Qi couldn't help but frown. When Wu Xi turned around, he just so happened to meet Jing Qi’s frowning gaze. He only then noticed that standing next to the emperor of the Central Plains, body slightly turned to the side, there was a not very conspicuous child. But Wu Xi just slightly glanced at him, turned and walked two steps, and stopped in front of the Official of the Ministry of Rites, Jian Sizong.

Wu Xi looked up with a curved eyes that were large and black, pressing his hands to his chest as if giving a polite greeting. Jian Sizong did not know what he meant, and only frowned while trying to size him up.

Suddenly, Jian Sizong felt that something was wrong, as there seemed to be something blinding his eyes, making his vision unclear. He hurriedly took two steps backwards, a buzzing noise filling his ears, making him look around blankly, unable to recognize the people around him. Jian Sizong knew in his heart that he had fallen into the sorcery of the small child, and he became both scared and furious, angrily pointing at Wu Xi: "You….."

But when he looked again, standing before him was no longer a child with a covered face and black robes, it was clearly a youthful woman in pink clothes. He saw the woman smiling at him, cheeks turning a light shade of pink, her eyebrows lowered, tactfully flirtatious. The tips of her eyes looked like they had grown hooks at the ends, and she looked very much like the famous courtesan of the ancient willow lane, Xiao He Yue.

Jian Sizong’s face immediately turned red.

He saw that the beauty took two steps forward, and reached out to undress, and Jian Sizong wondered, in a public place with so many people, how could there be such a wanton woman who would dare to go so far without shame? He was about to stop her, but suddenly realized that there was not a single other person in sight. In the empty hall, the crowd of officials and ministers had disappeared. Only he and the woman were left.

Looking again, where even is the main hall, this is clearly the "Smoke Tower" covered with red silk.

The woman who deeply resembled Xiao He Yue came deceptively close, her outer garment mostly undone, her soft breasts half-exposed, a bright cinnabar mole showing in her chest area. Her eyes were hazy, seeming shy and resentful, circulating with different feelings, but looking again, they disappeared, only leaving a pair of watery almond eyes.

Seeing this scene, Jian Sizong felt heat start flowing through his lower abdomen, his three souls and seven mortal forms were already mostly scattered, and he could not help but reach out and embrace the beauty.

He felt that the person in his arms was struggling to push and refuse, adding even more soul-melting charm. He couldn’t wait to be with her and fall in the warmth of the red silk to go to Wushan with the clouds and rain.

At this time, he heard a chuckle in his ear, and the chuckling person seemed to be a child. The sound was a little bit sharp, but very cold, and when entering the ears, it felt like it pierced the heart and caused it to tremble.

Jian Sizong was actually scared into a cold sweat, his continuous rubbing against the women was suddenly stopped, and his eyes widened.

He only felt a pain in his chest, then was forcefully pushed away.

Jian Sizong looked up, and standing there was not the Xiao He Yue of the Smoke Tower, but was clearly a meaty body, with a face full of wrinkles and a sunken mouth, the Minister of Revenue, Zhao Mingji, Master Zhao!

Everyone in the room was dumbstruck.

Originally, when seeing Wu Xi inexplicably going to find Jian Sizong who had just caused him trouble, the reasons seemed very unclear. At that time, the two stood two feet apart, staring at each other in hostility for a moment, before they saw that Jian Sizong suddenly moved back two steps, reaching out to point with one finger, but before actually lifting it, he had already put it back down.

Then his eyes squinted unblinkingly at the empty hall in front of him, no one knowing what he saw. Everyone watching seemed to observe that his face obscenely started to flush red, and then this most rule-abiding and old-fashioned person started laughing like “Hee hee,” saliva flowing out of the corner of his mouth, a vulgar expression in his eyes, the absolute opposite of his normally uptight and honorable self.

Everyone's eyes pinned straight on him, and He Lianpei leaned forward out of his chair, very much wanting to get closer and see this scene more clearly.

Then, Jian Sizong suddenly made an even scarier move. He actually opened his arms and pounced on the person next to him like a fierce tiger, embracing Zhao Mingji!

In all honesty... th-th-that master Zhao Mingji, even if his face couldn’t frighten the heaven and earth, it could at least frighten some demonic beings and scare a couple children, but Minister Jian was embracing him as if he was the most beautiful woman in the world. The expression on his face was extremely lewd, but just embracing might have been okay if he didn’t also start groaning and moving his hands up and down, his mouth stammering "Xiao He Yue", "Darling,” ceaselessly.

He Lianpei was stupefied, and after a while, he blankly said: "This… where did all this come from? Ah, Official Jian Ai, even if for Master Zhao, for Master Zhao, you always had this kind of admiration, you should not ignore the fact that he has a wife and children!"

Jing Qi was worried he might fall down headfirst.

His Majesty the Emperor’s outburst astonished everyone, again confusing all of the officials whose wits had just began to return to normal. Jing Qi quietly took two steps back, and his eyes fell on the sorcerer youth.

Just a few moments ago he already felt that this brat had demonic energy, and it turned out that he really did know some sorcery. This small poisonous creature was already so full of revengeful spirit at a young age, he would really become a force to be dealt with in the future.

As he moved back, he just happened to see He Lianyi look up and over in the direction of Wu Xi. Jing Qi saw that the calm face of the teenager flashed with killing intent.

At this time, if there was still no one who would come out and speak, things would escalate into a big problem, and Jian Sizong was the backbone of the oldest prince’s faction. Having just finally recovered his spirit, He Lianzhao stood up and shouted furiously: "Father Emperor, under the eyes of the public, a court official of the imperial household was ridiculed, what should be done?!"

This furious shouting finally blasted everyone awake, Zhao Mingji’s face was choked purple, but with his body that had the strength of a dried and salted fish, he could not push away the suddenly forceful Jian Sizong. He hurriedly struggled and refused and yelled, but the other side did not respond, and his clothes were even partially torn apart.

"Audacious!"

"This is dishonoring respectable people, really humiliating!"

"Still no one is coming to drag this evildoer out of here!"

The sound of one after another seemed to explode into a boil, and He Lianpei coughed and gave Wu Xi a difficult look. Of course, he couldn’t really have Wu Xi dragged out. The sorcerer youth was eccentric, but he was still a child. He was a benevolent and righteous ruler, how could he be narrow-minded and lower himself to become like a young child?

Besides …... besides, this show of sorcery was truly a problem that was a product of his own curiosity, in any case He Lianpei could not hit himself in the face, so he forcefully slapped the table and shouted: "What are you being so noisy for?!"

This was the emperor after all, so the passion and excitement of the crowd of officials immediately stagnated, and they kneeled uniformly. Wu Xi smiled and also kneeled, but he kept his waist and back quite straight.

Only He Lianzhao, even though currently kneeling, dared to call loudly: "Father Emperor! Father Emperor, Minister Jian is a longstanding official of Daqing, a person of virtue and prestige, this... this is to forcing him hit his head on the pillar of the Main Hall and die, Father Emperor!"

He Lianpei coughed lightly and said to Wu Xi: "This ... South Xinjiang sorcerer youth, this indeed is unacceptable behavior, would you hurry and remove the spell on Master Jian? I have seen that the sorcery from South Xinjiang is just like this."

But Wu Xi replied: "Emperor, this is just a small trick, I simply cast a kind of love spell, which is called ‘An Inch of Fairy Footsteps’ where we are from. Whoever it is cast on will see the person who they are thinking about in their heart. Where we are from, thinking about someone means you want to be with someone, isn’t that right? Why would he want to hit his head and die?”

"This..." He Lianpei touched his nose and could only say vaguely, "The Central Plains is a civilized place, which is naturally different from the place where you are from. After you settle here, you will naturally be assigned a gentleman to teach you to read and reason. Then you will understand, some things... Some things can't be done in public."

Jing Qi turned his face to the side and almost broke down because of the emperor’s sentence – “Can’t be done in public.”

Actually, He Lianpei could also be considered to have a good temperament, with a little bit of compassion and good feeling. If he wasn’t sitting on this imperial chair, he might actually be an interesting person.

Wuxi finally nodded: "So it turns out that it can’t be done in front of people, I understand now."

This one sentence pierced the heart of an innumerable amount of people present, feeling like this evil creature from South Xinjiang was truly dreadful, having poisonous thoughts from such a young age, always ridiculing people when speaking, he was clearly full of evil ideas and undisciplined.

They only saw Wu Xi reaching out his hands, patting a few times with a strange rhythm, sneering. Jian Sizong seemed to have been hit with martial arts, abruptly becoming motionless, Zhao Mingji took the opportunity, breathing roughly, he pushed him away as if fighting for his life.

Jing Qi actually became interested this time. Others didn’t know, but Jian Sizong was a core person in the eldest prince’s association, and in the previous lifetimes had helped He Lianyi sweep clean all his brothers, and he had seen and heard all of these atrocious deeds with his own eyes and ears. Naturally, he knew what kind of person this supposedly righteous Jian Sizong was, but it was a pity that in his last life, the world was a place where people would fight in the dark, and there was no superior master who fought regardless of the situation like this South Xinjiang sorcerer youth, creating this lively and cacophonous scene.

He appeared to be ignorantly standing next to the emperor and pretending not to exist, but in his heart he was rejoicing in the other’s misfortune, and was imagining how this Minister Jian would react after waking up.

Zhao Mingji furiously pointed at Jian Sizong, his entire body shaking and his face swollen, and even the thousands of wrinkles on his face seemed to be flattened, but no words came out of his mouth for a long time.

Speaking of which, the party struggle between the major factions of the country seemed to have already reached a finale, but after all is said and done, not everyone can find people who share their vile habits.

There are inevitably some people who aren’t cared for by their grandmas or loved by their uncles or even acknowledged by dogs, relying on no one, not fond of anyone, mouth always spurting blood, biting whoever they catch. Unfortunately, that Master Zhao is such a person. It is pitiful that Zhao Daren always bites people, opening his bloody mouth like a sacrificial bowl, and biting determinedly and ferociously, but as he now tried to rack his brains to figure out how to righteously curse this person who should be cursed, looking for the perfect way to condemn this blackened person, he was so angry that he couldn’t speak any human words.

He could only tremble uncontrollably.

Jing Qi thought, with this kind of temperament, this person will probably escalate this stupid situation and then start knocking himself on a pillar.

Sure enough, he saw Master Zhao bellow furiously: "This shameless villain! This righteous-looking group full of robbers and prostitutes managed to laze their way into the Imperial Hall, insulting an imperial official! I, Zhao Mingji, may be untalented, but I’ve definitely read a few books, and I know what is proper and honest! It is beneath me to be associated with this cunning, immoral plot!"

After this frenzied outburst, he indeed ran headfirst towards the stone pillar of the hall. Fortunately, Master Zhao was no longer young, and did not have the old but vigorous spirit of Minister Jian, so he ran slowly and was chaotically pulled back by the people standing.

Zhao Mingji kneeled on the floor, with intermittent bouts of snot and crying, howling things like “This saint has been disrespected,” “From now on I will no longer have face”......

It turned out that when this man started to cause a disturbance, it was not much better than a woman, and He Lianpei’s brains were almost exploded by this scene, his face emaciated.

Jing Qi then thought, after such a long disturbance, Jian Sizong probably should have come to his senses, this time it was Minister Jian’s turn to hit the pillar.

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