#crack. call that the fish market

[deepbluececil]

Looks into the camera like he's on the office.

[ktsumu]

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

pairing: childe / tartaglia x f!reader wc: 4.4k

choosing to love him is choosing endless bloodshed; all of it is yours.

(alternatively — the metamorphosis of a god through the eyes of his keeper.)

warnings: suggestive / mentions of sex, nudity, profanity, angst, mentions of murder / death, ambiguous ending i think, almost canon compliant

note: 4.4k words and i don't think even this has a plot. WHO CARES dedicated to @shoyostar bc i never stop talking and @crysugu :3 here he is!

Before he was ever Tartaglia, eleventh of the Harbingers, he was a timid child. 

He feared the simple things — speaking to neighbours, strangers, the mailman. He never went to the market alone, not without his parents, not without his older brother to hold his hand. Neighbourhood boys called him names and you called him sweeter things, bringing him in for hot chocolate because of his red eyes, holding his frozen hands in a lukewarm basin. 

Your town was on the coast but he rarely saw the water; he was afraid of drowning and even more afraid of sinking, even though you could see the ice was six inches thick through the sides of the fishing holes scattered everywhere. Not even the men would crack it, fathers that ate at the head of the table, yet he thought he’d be the one. Nor did he trust anyone to save him. 

Childe was Ajax before he was anything for anyone else, his name from myth. Eagle. He was born a  Greek tragedy; hero, for most. 

He was fourteen when he disappeared. Your mother said he’d come back home, kids get mad. Your father said a bear got to him, a weak thing like that — your whole neighbourhood looked for him after he vanished. 

He was gone three days in the woods but he told you he’d been gone for months. He was underground; you asked if it was Hell but he said it was much more. When he crawled back up to Morepesok, he was a different person.

He looked you in the eye and told you he was finally ready to fight.

+

You didn’t believe he was lost for three months until you watched him hold a sword.

By the barrels on the fishing dock, boys fought with wooden blades. Girls would watch and sit on box crates, swaddled up to their ears, cheering on whichever one they liked that week. They’d watch as they hit each other, splinters snagging on coats, knuckles gone white from the cold and how tight they held their handles. 

When Childe stepped up for the first time, they snickered at him. The boy who ran away from home, coming to join the sword fights. It was a joke and they laughed.

(You saw something in his eyes that day and it scared you. There is nothing more terrifying than a child with bloodlust.)

He beat the kid so badly that they put thirty stitches in his forehead, and you were left to do patchwork on the bomb.

Cutting coloured wires, you dabbed Childe’s red cheek with a warm cloth, wringing it out in the bowl of water that separates the two of you. He was calmer then, in front of you. Not that he wasn’t before; it was less of not being calm and more of craving victory, more of a test of his newfound gift.

“I told you to stop,” you mumbled, “hitting him, I mean.”

“I stop, he starts. I won.”

“What did you win? Where's your prize?”

Childe looked at you dumb, with his dumb childish eyes that no longer held hate. Maybe it was somewhere, hidden, beneath the water you drown in, but instead the surface held a glare of wonder. He was Ajax again, always hopeful.

He hissed when you dabbed his skin with something other than water, something that stung. “I—”

“No one wins in war, Ajax,” you scolded. “You’ll see someday.”

“I won’t be in a war.”

You scoffed, your hand gripping his jaw when he tried to run away. “We’ll see.”

+

You’re seventeen when he stumbles inside your house, the wooden door cracking against the wall as he slumps to the floor.

Your feet are cold when you step away from the wood stove in your living room, dropping to your knees, holding his face in your hands that are always so much warmer than his. They cradle his flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead; he’s gripping at a pulse in his ribs.

“I’m fine,” he assures you, before you start to cry, “just tired. I’m just tired.”

He eases the door shut, his head tilting back against the wall. His hand rests on your knee, squeezing it like he’s grounding himself, counting on the fabric of your pants to do it for him. You touch the icy veins that run over his knuckles and he comes back to life.

“What happened to you?” you rush, your family asleep down the hallway. You turn the dial on the oil lamp beside you, watching the fire reflecting off of his dirty cheeks.

He laughs, pulling your wrist off when you smack your hand over his mouth with a lousy ‘alright, alright’ and a glance towards your parents’ bedroom. “Me?” he coughs out. 

“You should see the other two.”

(You don’t know what told you first, but you remember going cold.)

“What do you mean?” you whisper. You can’t stop whispering, you can’t stop shaking. “Ajax, what did you do?”

Childe’s smile tilts itself crooked. “I killed them,” he says. 

His voice is so quiet it cracks under the pressure to not be heard.

(He’s smiling, but he’s crying. It doesn’t look like he means to. He doesn’t know he is.)

You want to run. You notice the smear of blood on his jaw again—is that even his? His hand still clutches your knee but you only now notice the red his palm stains it with, the red on the side of his torso. You want to run.

(You should run.)

You don’t run. Because it’s Ajax, and he’s tired of running tonight. Why would you?

“It’s okay,” you say with a nod and a shiver, like shutters in a hurricane. You’re both crying, and he’s against your chest, and he’s still so fucking cold that it’s migrating to you. “Stand up. Ajax, stand up—”

“I can’t,” “You can, you need to get in the bath.”

“I’ll wake your—“

“If you were ever worried about that, you wouldn’t have come here, so Ajax would you please—“

He breathes out, muffling his groans as he staggers to his feet. You’re not of much help but at least your hands, your shaking hands, are telling him you’re there. And that’s enough. 

“I love it when you say that,” he grimaces, shuffling towards the hallway. “My name.”

+

Childe misses your eighteenth birthday by ten minutes.

You ate dinner with your family at your favourite pub, his siblings wrote you cards and pulled your ears, you tied your hair loose and flirted with the pretty guy who fed the boat lines. You don’t like him all that much, but he looks nothing like your neighbour and for you, that is a fine enough reason to talk. 

Stones hit your window at ten past midnight, and Childe stands in the snowy alley outside of your bedroom. He wields another pebble and tilts his head.

Your window’s too old for you to ignore me.

You pull on your coat and boots, scarf too because he talks too much, and head outside into the night, creeping out the back door. You cross your arms, walking over to where he stands just outside of the lamplight.

“Hiding?” you ask, stopping in front of him.

Childe laughs like nothing’s wrong, digging through his back pocket with his gloved hand, handing you a box. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday."

“Belated.”

You glance between his rosy cheeks and the box before you take it, looking towards the end of the alley to avoid his stare. Because guys like Childe don’t look away — you know better than to look back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tucking your hands back into the warmth of your pockets.

Childe nods; you don’t open gifts in front of him, you know better than to do that, too. He knows better than to think you would. 

You look at his hands, eyebrows furrowing. “Leather gloves?”

“So you noticed?”

“How? You couldn’t afford long johns last year.”

Childe grins. “I got a job.”

“At the tank house,” you say, crossing your arms. “Which, you had last year.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s in deep — he doesn’t seem to care about it as much as you do. “I’m a Harbinger, now.”

“You—”

“I’m the youngest—” “You’re the dumbest,” you grit, sticking a finger in between his ribs. “You're eighteen — what kind of achievement is that?”

He takes a deep breath, his lungs pushing your finger back until it falls defeated. “I didn’t expect you to be happy, believe me.”

“Why,” you whisper, “would I ever be happy to watch you sell yourself to killers?”

“You know I’m no better,”

“Oh, Ajax, if you think that’s what I know then you’re more stupid than I thought.”

There’s no real reason to excuse the blood on his hands other than the fact that they’re so gentle when they hold yours.

There’s a voice down the alley and two drunk men in hats and coats wave your way. You grimace, but Childe waves back. 

“This is why you’re outside. You don’t want them to know where you live.”

“Or where you live.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because it’s great that your allies are a threat your family.”

“You’re not my family,” he says, “that’d make things weird.”

Your eyes well and you swallow, looking back at the men who stare at both of you. They murmur amongst themselves and you try to ignore them, but it’s hard when Childe won’t look away.

A breeze of snow from the rooftops drifts over you, and you look at him one more time. The last, you try to pledge to yourself. “Don’t leave with them.”

“It’s too late now and you know it.”

“How the fuck would I know it?”

“Don’t cry,” he tells you, much softer now that he knows you didn’t realize it yet, “I’ll come home, I’m not gone forever. If anything, I’ll come back richer. No one will sleep cold.”

“You’ll come back to spoil your family with blood money?”

“I’d spoil you, too,” he adds, “but I know better than to try that.”

There is a heavy silence between the two of you. It isn’t the weight of his gold or the weight of him not coming home; it is the weight of lead, of gunpowder. The weight of the bullets that his two new friends that wait in the street have loaded.

Childe takes your arms, tugging your hands from your pockets, frowning at your white fingertips and cracking knuckles. 

“Take these—”

“I don’t want your dirty paws,”

“Well, I don’t want your dry hands. And when I come home, I’ll need them.”

Childe drives the knife deeper, twists it through your chest, and slips off his gloves. He places them in your hands and just snickers when you pocket them. “No worries, I’ll just get a new pair.”

“Great.”

He nods, starting down the alley. He knows you well enough to understand that you don’t want to say goodbye, not when you know you’re saying goodbye to how things were before. Instead, he just calls over his shoulder.

“See you at Christmas?”

“Why even come back?”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I wanna see your gift next time, though.”

Then he leaves, and he doesn’t look at you again. You suppose he’s been trained to do that, but then again, you can’t remember a time where he has looked back at you, anyway. He’s never looked back at anyone before the end.

+

He comes home every Christmas, just like he promised. 

Each time he does, he drags you out to a cabin outside of town, one so hidden in the woods that you almost thought he built it, and he fucks you like he missed you before he was gone. Not enough to leave the Fatui, but enough to come home once in a while. And once in a while is all you're gonna get, so you don't let it go.

He comes home, tells his family all about his life as a businessman, a toy salesman you once heard, and then sneaks you out so you can love him as loud as you want. Then, you eat the fish you bring, he tells you how much he missed the sturgeon in Morepesok, and he's gone before the sun comes up. 

Childe lets you go with a tired breath, watching the fire beat against your glistening skin as you sit on the edge of the bed. The warmth of him courses through you like a river current and you fix your hair with weak hands, biting the tie that was around your wrist. “I feel your eyes, you’re not subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says simply. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful now.”

“You said that last year.”

“Next year, too.”

You roll your eyes, back straightening when he looms behind you, his naked body against yours. His hand sneaks around your waist and his lips press against your shoulder blade, kissing until he gets to the juncture of your neck and collarbone. 

“Ajax,”

“I know,” he says against your skin, “gotta eat.”

“You’d think they would feed you in the castle.”

“Hardly a castle, sweetheart."

“That belt says otherwise,” you mumble, standing, making him let go. You pick up your underwear from the floor, too hot to wear anything else. “It’s custom.”

He snorts, flopping back down on the bed. “Birthday gift.”

“From who?”

“Ooh, jealous?”

“Of someone who doesn’t know who you are? No.”

Childe hums a laugh, giving a look in agreement to the ceiling that you catch out of the corner of your eye. He rests a hand on his chest, watching you sweat in the heat of the fireplace, smiling at the life he has for the next four hours.

He clears his raspy throat. “You finally wore it. The gift.” He snickers, “I only waited two years.”

You look over your shoulder at him, pulling your cami over your head. “I wasn’t gonna let money rot.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“What?”

“The stone. Do you know what it is?”

You stare, face hot. You’re partially embarrassed to not know, never having left Snezhnaya and let alone your town, but you’re curious enough to shake your head. Childe smiles like he knows that you wish you knew enough to say yes.

(You hate that he’s travelled the world you used to tell him you dreamt about. The one you made him dream about, too.)

He scoots up to lean against the headboard, and you take the invitation to come back to the bed. You crawl onto the mattress again, sitting beside him as he moves the clasp of the necklace to the back of your neck, and the stone to the front.

“They call it Cor Lapis,” he says, “it’s in Liyue.”

“Oh.”

He lets go. “It’s not rare, but I like it.”

“You spend a lot of time in Liyue, it makes sense.”

“So you do read my letters,” he says with a grin, cocking his head and holding your hand. “What else do I say?”

“What about the necklace?”

“Huh?”

“If it’s not rare, why get a custom-made necklace?” you ask. “Expensive for such a simple stone.”

Childe’s eyes drop back down to the necklace, holding it out from your neck and in line with the light of the bedside table lamp. It glitters in his eyes and you’re sure it does in yours.

“Cor Lapis is dull,” he tells you. “It doesn’t actually glow until it’s cracked open.”

You look at the cut edges of the stone, framed in gold. It’s small, but it’s something that looks like Childe gave it to you. When your mother saw it, she said it was beautiful and asked when he was home last.

You focus on the fingers that hold it.

“I found it a lot like you,” he says, his voice lower, his eyes finally looking up to face you head-on. “Heart of gold.”

“I don’t need to be cracked open."

“You have been,” he corrects, “you are right now.”

He’s right. He’s so fucking right that it hurts your head to think about and hurts your chest to acknowledge. 

Childe’s hand runs up and under your shirt, showing your skin. “And you’re glowing.”

You sit in the silence inside your open ribs and give him a small smile, standing up to shake his hand off of you.

“I’ll let you tell me that next winter, too.”

+

Next Christmas, you stay in bed. Childe cradles your necklace again but doesn’t tell you about Liyue because you don’t ask, too proud to ask twice. 

Instead, you lay against his chest, littered with brand new scars you didn’t see last time. Some you watch, others you look away from because they run too deep for you to need to know how he got them. Year by year, you get more quiet.

Childe does, too. He hasn’t lost his boyish charm but it shares his body with something else now.

“Why don’t you come home before Christmas?” you ask. “Once, even. Teucer’s birthday?”

“It’s not that easy. If it was, I’d be there for every birthday. Yours, theirs.”

You purse your lips, rolling onto your back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. “Right,” you whisper.

“Don’t do that,”

“Why do you say that like I’m fishing for empathy?” you ask casually, scoffing a laugh. “You used to have some, you know. Before you were a fucking hitman.”

“You have no problem fucking said hitman, so please, if you now raise any sudden changes of heart, I should probably know.” 

You look at him coldly and he shakes his head. “It’s not like I want to hurt you.”

His arm gets heavier around you, weighing you down against his side. You fight it off when you sit up, turning to look down at him. Déjà vu washes over you both.

“Do you honestly think that I’m talking about me?” you say through laughs. “I’ve gotten used to your wounds, Ajax, it’s not about me.”

“I—”

“How about your family?” you say. It shakes the cabin walls, even though you weren’t loud at all. “You have younger siblings who idolize you and older ones who know better than what you tell them. Do you think they’re dumb?”

He stares at you. You ask, “You remember them, don’t you?”

“I remember my siblings, yes, thank you for aski—”

“Did you know Teucer made a sword?”

Childe’s next sentence fades into a sigh, and his lips purse as he shakes his head.

You cross your arms. “It looks just like yours.”

“Brotherly love, toys are harmless.”

“Who do you think will stitch his eyebrow? Or sneak him into the bathroom after he comes down from his first kill—”

“I never asked you to be my keeper,” Childe says, the grip on your hand tighter than it was before.

“And look how it turned out, anyway.” 

Childe leans back against the bed frame and thin pillows he’s stacked up, looking anywhere but at you. 

He’s older now and hardened into someone you can’t recognize, but he resembles a lot of the boy he was born as. He still doesn’t look you in the eye when he apologizes, not when he means it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You stand, finding your clothes on the floor. You’re too hot, so you put on your underwear and shirt and leave it at that. “I brought fish. Rest while you can.”

+

It’s July, and Childe comes back to Morepesok in the middle of a blizzard.

Glasses rattle in behind the bar and you dry the ones from the sink, since the hot water ran out an hour ago. The pub’s empty but your shift still stands, even though no one dares to go outside when the storms are this bad, and it’s only you and a few stragglers left to pray the windows don’t shatter when the breeze hits you from the coast.

Every time you catch yourself in the counter’s reflection, you see your necklace, and you wonder what the beaches in Liyue are like. You can’t swim here without freezing to death and you can’t dream in relentless snow, so you let yourself think of him sometimes.

(Warm, swimming in streams. You wonder if he ever got over his fear of drowning when he realized he wouldn’t sink.)

Air whistles through old panels and teases the fire that burns in the seating area, and there’s a quiet hum of voices that dim the crackle of the logs you throw in every half-hour. A glass slides off the counter and breaks in the wind.

You gasp and jump, stepping back, stepping forward when you hit something — someone. You turn around and Childe stares back, snow on his eyelashes and his hair damp from hail and the sweat beneath his hat.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, you’re so welcoming. Need help?”

You scoff, kneeling with a brush and pan, guiding the glass back into a pile. You don’t answer his question. “They don’t really mean it when they say 'Christmas in July,' you know.”

“You were the one who told me to visit more, right?”

You nod, standing again, dumping the glass into a bin. “Outside the bar, staff only."

Childe slowly raises his hands in surrender, stepping quietly out from the back and rounding to face you again. He leans on the freezing counters, looking around the room. “You work here?”

“A normal person job, yes.”

“So boring.”

“Why’d you come back?” you ask, going back to washing glasses. “When do you leave?”

Please, stay. Just for once, stay.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do they ever let you off your leash for more than a day? Or do you just hate snowstorms that much now?”

“They have gotten worse since I’ve been gone,”

“Or you’ve just been gone long enough to forget where you come from,” you suggest, glancing up at him again. “The Fatui do still operate here, right?”

“Lower your voice, eh?”

“Sorry. Forgot.”

Childe purses his lips, looking around again. He lowers his head. “The cabin’s open.”

“There’s no way we can make it through the trees blind.”

“I can get us there.”

“Do you remember you got lost in those woods once?”

He grins when you look up. “Well, you know you don’t learn without getting lost. I know them now.”

You crack a tiny smile back, one that probably gives him way too much hope. He watches you put glasses away, he relaxes when he sees the necklace you still wear; even if you started wearing it two years late. 

You shake your head. “I’m not coming to the cabin.”

“Why’s that?”

“You should spend the day you have with your family.”

“You—”

“Don’t make things weird.”

The moment is bittersweet and Childe isn’t stupid enough to challenge it, so he just laughs. You try to but it comes out funny.

“So that’s it?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “It’s always been your decision, not mine.”

And nothing you have ever done has been anything I’ve wanted.

Childe nods, biting his cheek. He knows that people who live in the woods often die there, too. He never really made it out. “Show me out, then?”

You give in, walking him the short distance to the door. He rests with his hand on the knob, gently moving you away from the door so the breeze doesn’t freeze you in place. He tugs his hat on and notices the gloves he gave you years ago hang by your coat on the standing rack.

“When should I come back?”

He watches you breathe in, he watches you breathe out. “Come back when you’re coming home.”

Childe doesn’t try to reason or to ask what you mean, because he knows what you mean.

Don’t.

With a nod, he smiles. It shows with a weakness that no Harbinger should still have with them; you think this might be the death of it.

“I’ll see you around, then.” He opens the door.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Bye, Childe.”

The door shuts. You don’t hear the snow crunching beneath his feet until a few seconds later, and you keep your ear against the door until you don’t hear them anymore.

Before he was ever Tartaglia, Childe, eleventh of the Harbingers, his home was in the woods he got lost in. Not underground, but in a cabin, with strong windows and shutters the colour of your eyes.

+

It’s the second Christmas you haven’t seen Childe or the woods. You haven’t checked if he’s stayed there and the stories Teucer tells you are old, but there’s a chance he’s still burning a fire and laying in bed, glowing with heat.

Either Childe hasn’t come back, or he just hasn’t told you he has. Either way, you don't make an effort to know.

Somewhere in Liyue, there’s an ore mine with your name carved above the entrance. The men talk about you when they wheel out carts of jade and ore, wondering how you reached so far up to tell them you were there.

In Mondstadt, an outpost sings a folk tune about a girl who heals wounded soldiers.

In Inazuma, a village calls a seashell by your name. It started with the kids, who said a man from a different place told them all about it. An expert on it, they said. They haven’t called it anything else since.

In Sumeru, your laugh runs through the river.

In Natlan, a painting hangs in a bar of a woman dressed in fire, a ribbon on her wrist and her hair everywhere else. When asked, the artist says he was inspired by a man who spoke of a girl with a heart of gold. 

In Fontaine, they serve grilled sturgeon, only cooked by wooden stove.

Childe sits down in a town in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, and he sits in front of five kids who look just like the ones back home. Freezing, and curious.

He lets them fawn over his attire, bug him for all he’s worth while they’re tucked inside of a barn to avoid the cold. He answers every question about his job selling toys with enthusiasm and without guilt, promising to someday come back with some for them. Then, they ask him to tell them a story — one they haven’t heard before.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, a tale is told about a girl who travelled the world.

[paleprincessturtle]

Ruined Plan

I'm back again! Happy reading and please excuse any inaccuracies in my writing.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Reader 

Donna stared at her screen in disbelief and gasped. She closed her eyes and looked at the screen one more time and looked behind her, at her boss’ office. She printed the document on her computer and invited herself into Harvey’s office. She waited in front of Harvey’s desk while he was on the phone. Not long after Harvey hung up the phone and he raised his eyebrows at Donna. “Are you going to say something or are you just gonna stand there looking like fish out of water?” Harvey said as he jolted down something on a document in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Donna asked him in disbelief. “Tell you that I’m the best closer this town has ever seen? I think the world knows, Donna.” Harvey smirked and looked back down at the document. “If it’s a guessing game, we have to pen it down for another day. As you know, this case has been going on for far too long.” Donna didn't say a thing but instead slid the document she printed just minutes ago. Harvey peeked at the document and asked “Why are you looking through my bank statement?”

Donna rolled her eyes so hard, for a second she was scared it won’t get back. “To make your usual monthly financial report, Harvey. What else?” Harvey waved the page absentmindedly in the air. “And what am I supposed to do with this?” Donna leaned on his desk and pointed to a specific date. “Cartier? That much? On a lunch break?” Donna asked as she straightened herself. “You’re proposing,” Donna said matter of factly. Harvey grinned so wide that it scared Donna. “The thought was just so sudden and I thought why not.” Harvey shrugged. “And why didn’t you ask for my help to pick out the perfect ring?” Donna paced in front of his desk, looking like the world was about to collapse. Again, Harvey just shrugged. “The ring must be here. Show me the ring.” Harvey squinted his eyes at her. “Harvey, I swear to God if you choose not to show me the ring, I’ll turn your office upside down and nothing will stop me.” Harvey put his hands up in defense and retrieved a key inside a little compartment underneath one of his basketball cases and opened a middle drawer in his desk. He carefully took the box and handed it to Donna. With the same care, Donna took the box in her hand. “Let’s see if we can return this ring if it turns out to lo…” Donna said seriously and stopped herself once she opened the box fully. “Well?” Harvey stood up with his hands in his pockets and smirked.

Donna nodded and grinned “Wow, you’ve outdone yourself. This looks beautiful, simple yet elegant. And jeez, Harvey. Are you trying to blind anyone who looks her way?” Harvey’s smirks grew significantly bigger. “Kinda need to show everyone she’s off the market.” He said proudly and Donna burst into a huge fit of laughter at the prospect of seeing Harvey finally getting married and most importantly, happy. “I know this case is important and you’re swamped. But let’s take 30 minutes to plan the actual proposal. This is a very important matter, Harvey." Donna sat at the chair in front of Harvey’s desk and moved his laptop to face her. 

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The sound of his own phone startled Harvey. He doesn’t remember when was the last time he looked up from piles upon piles of documents on his desk. He cracked his neck before he moved the documents around to find his phone. Harvey instantly smiled. “If it isn’t the most gorgeous girlfriend a man could ever ask for.” Harvey leaned back in her leather chair as he was immersed in the sound of laughter from the other side of the line. “Flattery won’t bring you anywhere, Mr. Specter.” Harvey smiled “But I’m known for my flattery and charm.” Harvey paused, “Is everything okay?” he suddenly worried as to why she called and it was not even 10 am. “All is well, Commander. Just asking if you could pencil me down for a lunch picnic today?” His heart heaved suddenly, Heaven knows how much he wanted to go and how hard it is to say no to her. But at least she wasn't here to show him the pout. “Oh baby, as much as I love the idea, I’m seriously swamped.” Harvey heard a big sigh and the sound of the fridge door closed. “Still?” he heard her pout. Damn it, Harvey thought. He thought not being with her and not seeing the pout will help. But now, he heard her pout. Great. “Unfortunately, still. I’ll make it up to you. Okay?” Harvey tried to reason with her as he thought of the getaway Donna and him planned earlier and smiled. “No worries, baby. Good luck with your case, okay? Don’t forget to ask Donna to bring you something for lunch. Don’t forget to eat lunch or I’ll send the SWAT team down there to shove a hotdog down your throat.” Harvey laughed heartily at her threat. “I won’t. Gotta go, the DA office called. I love you.” Harvey heard a cheerful I love you as he hung up.

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

Donna entered Harvey’s office exactly at 1.30 pm. “Your 1.30 appointment is here.” Harvey looked up, bewildered. “What appointment? I told you to clear up my schedule today. I’m busy.” Before Harvey saw her, he already smelled the mixture of vanilla and rose. “Even for me?” she said sweetly as Donna left the room and closed the door behind her. Harvey stood up immediately and walked up to her. “You’re too busy now for me, Mr. Naming Partner?” she smirked as Harvey enveloped her in his embrace. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I called Donna and she told me you refused lunch. So I took matters into my own hands and made you lasagna. I’ll only drop this.” she gestured to a lunch bag that he realized just now. “I thought you'd send a SWAT team? You’re damn pretty for I thought would be 10 bulky men.” Harvey said as he gently squeezed her ass and smirked before delicately pecking her lips. “Harvey!” she slapped her hand across his chest. “No fraternizing in the office!” she scolded, face all serious. “You won’t work here until at least another month. You’re here as my girlfriend. And maybe we could make use of the copy room? Or hmm, the file room?” She laughed though he earned another slap across his chest. “I thought you were busy? Come on, eat your lunch.” She separated herself from Harvey’s arms and he involuntarily frowned at the absence of her in his arms. She opened the lunch bag and laid down the food containers on another side of his larger desk for him to eat. “Come, Harvey. You should eat.” she frowned and she called for Harvey. He sat down and now he felt hungry. Between the sight and the smell of this lasagna, he realized that he has been working on an empty stomach. “That ain’t so hard, right?” Harvey nodded, mouth full of food. “Are these the files you've been going through since last night?” she gestured to the ones on the table and a few boxes near his desk. Again, Harvey nodded. “Won’t you eat with me?” He opened the lunch bag to find another lasagna for her. “Meh, I’ve had lunch at home. Thought I will just drop your lunch,” she said as she squatted beside one of the boxes. “I’ll take half of these files. You finished your lunch first.” She took a few boxes with her and brought them to his sofa. “Babe, you don’t have to. You’re not even working here yet, the merger isn’t yet effective. Go out and have a spa day or something. Thank you, but I have it handled.” Harvey said after he gulped a big amount of water. “I won’t have it, Harvey. I’m free to help and I won’t go. Well unless you call the SWAT team." They smirked at each other as she flopped down the sofa and started with the box on the very top. Harvey stared at her as he chowed down the last bit of his lunch. How come he scored such a beauty? She leaned her back, documents opened in front of her, as she pouted while fully concentrating on the task at hand. She folded both legs, hitched her summer dress, and revealed her smooth thighs. What a pretty sight, he thought to himself. Since 3 days ago Mike got sick, this is the first day he felt happy by the news. He looked down at his lunch and something occurred to him so suddenly. He just realized how devoted she is to him. Her bringing him lunch now wasn’t the first time. She’s taking good care of him. They had been together for a tad more than a year now since she was working with her previous firm, been living together for over 7 months now Even when she was busy working, he always got home to dinner. Sometimes even home-cooked lunches brought by herself to his office. The warm baths she always knew he needed without him saying anything. How she knew what to pour him. White, red, whiskey, or bourbon. How all his friends love her. Adore her even. That never really happened with his previous partners.

He had to make her his now. Scratch that, he needed to make her his now. He moved carefully to his desk, as carefully as he could without disturbing her. He took the key and opened the drawer. He checked the box and sighed in relief as he saw the ring still in place.  He sat up straight and fixed his tie before walking up to her. She didn't even bother to look up, thought he must've needed something from one of the boxes she took. It then caught her attention when she saw him standing on one knee. “Harvey?” she looked at him quizzically. He pulled out the red box from his suit jacket and she gasped. She put her legs down, both hands covered her mouth as he opened the box. Exposing the ring. “This is not how I, actually me and Donna, planned it. We were supposed to be in Boboli Garden when I asked you this question. But I can’t wait that long. You are my life and I never loved anyone as much as I love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Marry me.” Harvey looked at her sincerely and his eyes glistened. “Yes” her voice was just above a whisper. “Yes yes yes! An infinite amount of yes!!” She shrieked. Harvey smiled widely as he slid the ring down her slender finger. She put up her hand and admired the ring “Goodness, this is beautiful.” Harvey wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her up with him before spinning her around. Harvey stopped, her feet still hadn't touched the ground. Their foreheads touched as they grinned at each other. “I love you so much” she whispered as she closed their distance. “Not even in a proposal will Harvey Specter ask” Both of them laugh, as they kiss again. They separated in shock as Donna swung open the door so hard. She inspected the sight before her and screamed “HARVEY HOW COULD YOU PROPOSE TO HER IN YOUR OWN OFFICE?!?! WE'VE MADE A PLAN!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Feel free to send me some story ideas. Thanks!

MASTERLIST

[le-monchou]

𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

for as long as he could remember, ruggie was always obsessed with the surface of the sea. of the sea, to emphasise- he had no interest in the weird land dwellers that roamed around without beauty, like the shoals that avoided the boundaries of the cave system he lived in, rich people from the capitol who found the caves bad luck.

his grandmother, on the other hand, feared his enthusiasm for the surface, and it was the only time she ever raised her hand to spank him hard under his fins. she doesn’t want to lose the last piece that connects her to her daughter, the voices in his head whispered whenever she glared at him, so ruggie found other ways to swim to the surface, only going twice a day, when the ball of flame in the sky rose and disappeared with the rise of the moon.

during that time, there were also less humans, ruggie noted as he swam towards the surface, ignoring the rude stares of the rich folk with their fancy land-amber and coral shells that they weaved into charms, choosing to focus on the sea rubies that only shone twice a day. listen, little spotted fish, he remembers a voice in the distance, too far back in his mind to know exactly who that was.

if you ever need to find something close to the surface, swim up and look for the sun gems. between the first time the sun gems appear and the last time they do, you will find the best stuff to eat. make sure the prince don’t get his hands on them, okay? if you hear many charms clinking, shove it somewhere and swim away.

as his head bursts out from the waters, ruggie gasps as his gills close and his ancestor’s lungs start working, gulping saliva to soothe the pain. the blazing thing the elders mostly called ‘the sun’ shone above him in the distance, and if only he could grab these gems and sell them in the market, then maybe he’d be able to give all the exiles and unwanted a chance, rival the prince’s money and his stupid, snarky attitude- but nevermind, that was not why he was here.

opening up a clam he’d hidden from his grandmother, ruggie raises his spotted arm high enough in the air behind a rock, flinging the slightly cracked pearl far away. “happy birthday, mama. and i’m sorry.”

taglist: @nemisisnemi, @glidiaxoxo, @vauxxnm, @aprityormarj, @aivy-saur, @alestrameria, @midnightmah, @bunnwich, @nicoliharu, @loser-jpg, @fungifanart, @artistnettles, @quillaffinity, @puowei

[anhonest-puck]

incorrect lotf quote but as stupid things me and my dumbass friends have said!

simon: “if you don’t laugh, your life is a lie”

—————————

jack: “i don’t qualify, i’m a dictator 💞”

—————————

ralph: “necrophilia is NOT cool man.”

—————————

roger: “the first thing you do when you’re scared is piss yourself”

—————————

ralph: *punches simon’s leg*

simon:

ralph: “that did NOT hurt si.”

simon: “you can’t speak for me???”

—————————

roger: “do i have a good essence?”

—————————

maurice: “no thank you stop sign!” *runs it because he didn’t see it early enough*

—————————

simon: “well i’m not stupi-“

jack: “WOAH WOAH WOAH. THE DEVIL IS A LIAR‼️‼️”

—————————

The Lord of the Flies: “i take cash, venmo, and firstborns!!! no blood sacrifices yet ://“

—————————

piggy: “stay positive men, there’s children dying”

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jack: *singing* “SO IM GONNA STAND UP-“

simon: “NO. YOURE GONNA SIT DOWN. HUMBLE YOURSELF.”

—————————

sam: “COLD IS JUST A MINDSET-”

eric: “-WE’RE WARM!”

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robert: “the pigs.. or whatever you call them.. pigs…”

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simon: “it took me a while to notice they made the panda black and white… because pandas are black and white!”

—————————

roger: “yall got fleas?”

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jack: “yeah, that part of your brain is called the frontal lobe..”

percival: “frontalo!!”

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maurice: “every fish has its other fish, or whatever the saying says..”

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ralph: “oh yeah, cartwheels!!!”

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eric: “sam was a bald baby. a FAT, BALD baby.”

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roger: *talking about a littlun* “HE BURPED IN MY FACE. THATS A DEATH THREAT.”

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ralph: “i’m simply EXISTING and you HATE ME for it 😞”

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piggy: “IVE SEEN LESS FRUIT AT A FARMERS MARKET!!”

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ralph: “i’m… going to shoot somebody.”

jack: “don’t make it me, hehe! 😋”

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piggy: *cracks head open after falling off castle rock* “it’s like a banana split isn’t it? 😁”

—————————

sam: “piGgYyyyY-“

eric: “you said that we couldn’t teach the littluns how to play blackjack-“

sam: “-but now they’re betting on crab races!”

—————————

roger: “DUCK!!”

jack: “roger, that’s a crow..”

roger:

roger: “DUCK!!!!”

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ralph: “i got a pig AND a hospital bill!”

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percival: *pointing at ralph + the conch* “tooty horn!”

—————————

ralph: “SIMON. MEOW.”

simon: “MEEEOOOOOWWWWWW”

—————————

robert: “have you ever just watched a deer.. be a deer?”

okay that’s all for now! (got the idea from @noctilucaa , @thatcreepydoll , and @conch-blower-3000 , sorry for the tags yall :,))

[mollywog]

Chapter 1 is full of juxtaposition and dissonance

…From this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food’s wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in our mouths. Everything would be perfect if this really was a holiday, if all the day off meant was roaming the mountains with Gale, hunting for tonight’s supper. But instead we have to be standing in the square at two o’clock waiting for the names to be called out.

~~~

“I never want to have kids,” I say.

“I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale.

“But you do,” I say, irritated.

“Forget it,” he snaps back.

The conversation feels all wrong.

~~~

… I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall.

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say.

~~~

It’s too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square — one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there’s an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.

~~~

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. “Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there’s nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.”

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.

[alpineshift]

the latest seal post is making me think about selkie!nico

how’s he doing? i’m still thinking about him (and jack) (and the sweater #13)

selkie nico my belovedddd every day is a bold and beautiful day for him! (and jack!)

(nat geo narrator voice)

The first challenge of the day is waking up, especially on an off day, which is usually when Nico is the one who's conscious at the crack of dawn. First order of business, smile at the sight of Jack conked out on the other side of the bed and drooling into his coat, then gets up and goes to the fresh seafood market for his choice of raw fish.

Next, spend a good hour or two chatting up the local fish farmers and familiar selkie faces at the docks (and try really hard not to drool over the fresh king salmon). Carry home his choice 'catches', run into Jack as he's blearily stumbling out into the kitchen, and give his bf a kiss on the nose. Pretend like he doesn't see Jack's thousand-yard stare as Nico just happily loads his raw fish into the bottom shelf of the fridge and calls it day.

It's important for a seal to get their daily bout of exercise in. Today's a nice day, so head over to the rec centre where Jack can do his hot girl stretches and Nico can slip his coat on before tipping into the saltwater pool, zipping around under water until he misses Jack (takes about fifteen minutes or less).

Poke head out and splash flippers and make general seal noises in the direction of the athletic area until his husband finally notices and finally comes over. Demand approximately fifty nose boops. Fling that tiny devils red fish floaty across the pool and destroy it fifty times (it deserves it). Swim up to Jack and go 🥺🥺🥺 until his husband goes oh my god stop I have your snacks right here will you stop acting like Ive been starving you for days. Eat all the snacks. Swim until tired. Home time.

Get back home and immediately devour several fish over the kitchen sink bc he's so hungry while Jack watches on with a thousand-yard stare. Get a scrub daddy and industrial-strength cleaning solution handed to him after he's done. Spend twenty minutes scrubbing the sink until Jack is satisfied. Cook a human meal together.

Midday: it's nap time. Toss the fluffy coat over a pile of throw pillows and nap with Jack lying on his chest for upwards to three hours. Cuddle his snoozing bf when he wakes up. Cuddle some more on the couch while coaxing more nose kisses out of Jack.

They've got standing dinner plans with some of the boys tonight (Mexican food, because it's two-dollar tacos and bottomless pitcher night and they intend to make the most of it.) Shower first, bc Jack says he stinks like the pool. Loot through his bf's closet until he finds an oversized Michigan sweater that smells like Jack's cologne. Go back into the den and realize Jack's already dressed to go--perfect white sneakers, backwards baseball cap, wash jeans, and a familiar number 13 devils sweater. Proceed to sweep Jack off his feet and make out against the kitchen counter until they're going to be fifteen minutes late.

Finally leave the condo, hand in hand, laughing at each other as they walk onto the street. (Nico says he wants fish tacos. Jack will get anything but.)

[tiredlilguy]

BSD|The Flags Poly HC's

come get your girl dinner, you know who you are cw: not proofread, suggestive//, a little fucked up (what do you expect though... they're mafia) notes: not adding chuuya because he was 16 at the same time they were around their 20's, reader suggested to be around their age. im just trying to cope with the recent chapter ;-;

I feel like Pianoman, Lippman, and Albatross would probably be the most provocative and louder lovers, while Iceman and Doc are kind of like “they’ll come around to me when they want to” attitude

Pianoman LOVES having you on his lap, he’s always using his “leader privilege” to be able to hold you the longest

Pianoman is handsy, but Alb is clingy… like Pianoman would be the one to try and sneak a hand to your ass, but Alb just likes hugs and holding you

Speaking of Alb, he definitely likes to steal you away all the time

Can and will just take you out of a cafe date with Lippman so then he can drive you to some random empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere just to make out with you

You have them all of a leash, and they will be there at your beck and call

Bet if you’re in trouble with something (they know very well you’re capable), doesn’t matter if it’s personal or not, they’re there

Iceman is a simp, I can definitely see him trying to be chill about your attention being on everyone else, but he’s a little jealous… he won’t say anything though

One time, Lippmann was watching Pianoman’s hand that was on your thigh as you were sitting on his lap. Pianoman eventually noticed and looked up at Lippman with a smirk and said: “ You wanna join?”

You ended up in between them that night (god, I desperately want that to be me)

You hear all the hospital drama from doc:

“ You remember […]?”

“ Yeah?”

“ Well they lost their other leg. When I tell you that I’m probably going to run out of prosthetics to put on this guy… Though, I may consider trying to Frankenstein them with a new leg. What do you think?”

Doc gifts you flowers, but he always gets the ones that are small (he thinks that they are like him, so that’s why he gets them for you), OR he’d gift you jars of severed limbs/eyes/etc

If he does surgery on you, he’s going to find some way to give you an extra organ and just not tell you about it. I guess enjoy your new third kidney babes (this is a crack hc, but I did see it from a meme)

Albatross seems like the typa guy to gift you a taxidermied animal, idk why… he gives me those vibes, like how a crow will gift you a dead mouse as thanks for saving it (Albatross is the name of a bird after all)

NO ACTUALLY, ALB DEFINITELY GIFTS ILLEGAL FISH/WHALE BONES

He’s definitely a genius at getting stuff on the black market (I mean, he can operate and fix every/any vehicle), probably had the highest bid on like an extinct whale tooth and smuggled it in to gift to you somehow

Doc and alb are fucked in the head, they just wanna show you that they love you

Anyways

Iceman seems like the type to gift you either old records, things that remind you of him, or things the reminds him of you

Lippman gifts really expensive things like designer bags or clothing

Pianoman doesn’t seem like much of a gift person, but he’d probably get you something more sentimental: like a simple (but expensive) necklace, or very romantic letters

Lippmann LOVES to spoil you: literally will take you to everything, always has you at any of his interviews (though you’re probably in disguise), or at movie/tv show shoots

Iceman definitely likes to have you to himself, he doesn’t mind the poly relationship, but if you’re with him, he doesn’t like to share

That said, if he does have you for a night, bet it’s going to be a good night (in both ways)

If you are getting shared it’s most likely pianoman + Lippmann or alb + doc

Though of course the six of you are always together, I mean hey, u got the cream of the crop of the Port Mafia all to yourself 

If you get signed a solo mission, at least one of them is either going with you or watching you on the sidelines

One time it ended up being where all of them showed up and they comedically fell out from behind a corner (the sillies)

I can imagine a scenario where you all end up going on a vacation to somewhere where there’s a beach

It was Lippmann’s idea

The end goal was to see you in swimwear- like that was the original idea… they’re horndogs

Pianoman puts his coat on you if you’re feeling cold, likes to see you put the sleeves on and see the coat sort of pool over you

Trust, if someone hurts you, that person is getting their ass demolished, beaten tf up, burned, sunk into the ground, dead as hell

They’d probably make a mess of the person who hurt you, so much so that the person is beyond recognition

Probably the one time that they let Albatross go loose (he’s probably beating the shit out of the dead body)

They do love you, they’re just a little fucked in the head

The skrunklies

[bookwormgamerweeb]

Vampire Hunter D x Fem reader

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

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

Chapter 2:

I stop infront of the pub, putting my gun in my holster

I need a drink

I think exhaustion taking hold of me as I a step into the pub the floor boards creaking from years of fights,people say at little tables as waitresses filled their cups with more drink.

"Can I get a mug of brandy", I ordered "Do you have coin?"the bartender asked suspiciously "Would I be here without coin"I hissed annoyed by the idiotic question.The man looked at me for a bit then started pouring,I spot a notice board of the other side of the pub with new bounties.

I grab my mug striding towards the board,I skim through the jobs one catching my attention

HELP AT SEA

Written in bold,I have never liked the sea bit life is getting a bit boring so maybe it wouldn't be that bad.I grab the paper ripping it off the board to get a better look at what im getting into.Taking a seat at the nearest table I place the mug down with a thud.

Help needed at sea, goods and a advisor must be protected and taken through the Mazu Sea we will pay you 150 000 in coin separately.We will being leaving port in 2 days, if you help you will be considered helping the nation.Our ship is called Maria.

I smirk at the thought of 150 000 coin, that could get me so much mugs of brandy.I pocket the paper and give whatever coin I had left to the bartender leaving the pub to find a tree to sleep on.

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

"Fuck my back" I boomed my back cracking in places I didn't know it could,it's been years since if gotten to ly on a actual bed.

I stretch and pull out the paper which had creased in my pocket,jumping off the tree i walk to the port hoping that the hadn't left yet.

I make it to the port,it was easy to spot the ship since it was the only ship there that hadn't looked like it was built with spare parts.The port was like a market but with fish and only fish, the stench making me wanna Puck my guts out.

The ship was gorgeous up close it have a woody yet clean exterior clearly made of mahogany but I really don't know if it would do well in sea, my eyes drift to the letters on the side of the boat Maria.

Walking with caution I approach the ship yelling a awkward "Hello?" As I stood there probably looking like an idiot, I wait for a long 2 minutes, I sigh and turn but before I know it mu face has slammed itself into a pretty muscular chest.

I look up cursing under my breath,before freezing still.

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[tygerbug]

BARBIE (2023) - Toward the end of writer-director Greta Gerwig's Barbie, America Ferrara (as Gloria) gives a speech about the tightrope that women must walk, the impossible and contradictory standards that a woman must navigate in order to be taken seriously in society and seen as a person. It is an overtly feminist moment but also serves as a metaphor for the film itself, which has to balance very contradictory tones in order to please several very different and contradictory audiences and owners. Is Barbie a fish-out-of-water comedy about two fashion dolls traveling to the real world? Is it a serious feminist statement about growing up in a patriarchy which does not value women enough? Is it Blade Runner? Is it a toy commercial? As Will Ferrell's character might say, "Yes." It is all of these things and a lot more, and in the hands of a less capable director that would have been a bigger problem than it is.

Like Barbie herself, Barbie the movie is expected to be everything all at once, to all people. Some of the things this movie is expected to be contradict each other pretty heavily. The film is trying to do a lot, and there's a lot of evidence of roads not taken. So much is unexplained or left hanging, and so much of what happens is silly and frivolous. This is a very smartly-made movie, which at times seems very dumb or makes dumb decisions, partly because what it's trying to accomplish as a film is nearly impossible.

It is possible to imagine a better version of this film, one which explains itself better, leaves less characters unexplored, leaves less plot threads hanging, goes to darker places, and does not make so many compromises. But I can't imagine that film getting funded as a $145 million toy commercial from Mattel, with an extra $150 million spent on marketing. Under the circumstances it's impressive that the film is as good as it is. That imaginary version of the film would be more coherent, and probably Oscar-worthy, but you'd have to call it "Malibu Stacy" or something, as The Simpsons did, and it wouldn't be one of the biggest hits of this year. What we have instead is a very complicated gymnastics act to satisfy many different audiences and the demands of corporate capitalism. The film sticks the landing, and comes out of all this looking as beautiful as a doll-sized Margot Robbie. But it's also full of moments which are out of place, underwritten, confusing and weird, like a doll-sized Kate McKinnon.

The toy company Mattel has been trying to get into the movie business for some time, as Hasbro already did with "Transformers" and "My Little Pony," among others. They've been trying to crack the code of a Barbie movie for adults for years. (And apart from Barbie, the idea of Mattel getting into movies is mostly a bad idea.) At Sony, up until 2017, Diablo Cody was writing a more ironic, deconstructionist version to star Amy Schumer, as a Barbie who didn't fit in. (Cody has said that the more traditional Barbie was not seen as feminist enough at the time, and that they struggled with comparisons to The Lego Movie.) Anne Hathaway was attached to a version written by Olivia Milch (Ocean's 8) until the project reverted to Mattel, and moved ahead at Warner Bros.

Greta Gerwig's Barbie feels like a film rewritten over the scattered corpse of a worse film, or many possible worse films. It walks the tightrope of being both an ironic deconstruction of the character, and an unironic celebration of Barbie which shows her in the best possible light. This film has a lot to say about Barbie's place in pop culture, as an ideal that little girls want to be like, which also saddles them with unrealistic expectations that can be very harmful. Since this film is also a toy commercial by Mattel, Barbie the movie can't interrogate these issues too negatively, but it goes farther than you'd think. It starts a conversation about what Barbie has meant to girls and women since 1959, which gives the film much of its meaning. The film raises some basic questions that it's not actually allowed to answer, while ignoring others. The chaotic script feels like the product of extended battles with Mattel, where the filmmakers are allowed to say certain things, and get away with certain things, only in specific scenes and in specific contexts.

Consider the rebellious teenager Sasha, as she meets Barbie for the first time. Sasha believes this is just a woman pretending to be Barbie, or that this is a crazy woman believing herself to be Barbie. Sasha and her entire friend group unload on Barbie about the negative effects that Barbie has had on society, to the point of calling her a fascist, without quite explaining why. This is a strange scene, because they've just met this woman and have very little reason to see her as "the real Barbie," or a representation of Barbie. They have barely been provoked to unload on Barbie like this, and we don't really hear this kind of talk from Sasha (or the movie) afterward. But the scene is written this way because that's where Sasha and Barbie are, at this point, as characters, and so this is the scene where Sasha is allowed to say these things, and where by extension Greta Gerwig is allowed to raise these questions, without openly agreeing or disagreeing with them. By the end of the film, Sasha will be saying stuff like "Barbie, you got this!"

Or consider Will Ferrell, as an executive in charge at Mattel. While we meet him in the "real world," he is a whimsical and comedic character, whose motivations are concealed behind several layers of irony. We are supposed to read him as "a Will Ferrell character," perhaps identical to his character in The Lego Movie (something that Barbie was compared to often, in development). He could also be Buddy the Elf from Elf, or George W. Bush from SNL. We know who this characters is, because he's played by Will Ferrell, but it would be very hard to explain his character otherwise. That's because this character has been forced into an impossible position, and gets around it by being several contradictory things at once. Will Ferrell, vaguely, occupies the space of an antagonist or villain for this film. He represents the real-world corporate patriarchy that Barbie is really struggling against, and his ostensible goal is to capture Barbie and restore her to factory settings. But he also represents Mattel, in a movie produced by Mattel, so at no point can he actually be the villain. Will Ferrell coats the role in several layers of irony and comedic schtick that make him hard to pin down. He plays the role with a wink. When his men are chasing Barbie, he is doing schtick rather than seriously trying to capture her. He forgets or changes his motivations quickly, while still pursuing Barbie, and most of his lines afterward are about how he's a nice guy really, and the son of a mother. He does that with a wink too, making his character hard to explain generally. He occupies the general space of a villain or antagonist, but also has to assure you that this is not the case in any serious sense. The daftness of the character papers over any holes in the story by assuring you it doesn't matter.

This is equally true late on, for the exact same reasons, when (spoiler alert) Barbie struggles with the Kens. The Kens can't actually be the villain in any serious sense, despite the serious real-world threat they represent, because this is a toy commercial for Barbie and Ken. When the Kens go to war, it needs to be as serious as possible, and as silly as possible, at the exact same time. Tonally, this film always needs to do everything backwards in high heels. It's a tough tone to hit. Ryan Gosling distinguishes himself as Ken, whose job is just "Beach." Gosling must convince us that he's both the generic, harmless (and stupid) Ken doll, and a character with much deeper psychological issues that he's working through, without the one overshadowing the other. Ken becomes a cautionary tale about how someone who is missing something in his life can easily become radicalized into something much darker, but not to the extent that he is irredeemable and can't be Ken anymore. This is a film which puts its actors in a very contradictory position when it asks anything of them, although the other Kens and Barbies are not explored deeply as characters. The film must have it both ways. It tackles toxic masculinity in a way which is both deeply serious and unserious. There is a very cutting remark, at one point, about a recent superhero film, which must only have been allowed because Warner Bros also owns that film, and which could also be very loosely interpreted as saying it appeals to its desired demographic. At one point in the film, Ken tries to figure out the rules of the Real World, and whether the opportunities he wants can simply be given to him. This opens a few questions about the many layers of societal gatekeeping - of wealth, class, race and so on - which makes opportunities harder to attain for the unconnected. Unfortunately these are also questions that are well beyond the scope of this movie. Despite a diverse cast, race and sexuality don't enter into this as themes.

Another thing the film doesn't- and can't- mention is that Barbie was not an original creation of Ruth Handler, but was based on the German "Lilli" doll, based on a sexy comic strip for adult men. The doll caught the attention of little girls precisely because it wasn't initially meant for them. As Helen Mirren's narrator notes, Barbie seemed much more exciting than dolls of little babies. She seemed to open up a world of adult possibilities, precisely because she was originally an adult fantasy. Ruth Handler is played here by Rhea Perlman, with probably a bit less gravitas than the role calls for, although she gets in a few good joke lines about Ruth Handler's real-world issues with financial fraud, yet another thing I'm surprised Gerwig got away with referencing here. (The contributions of Jack Ryan, and his troubled personal life, are not referenced.)

Margot Robbie holds the movie together as Barbie, also known as "stereotypical Barbie," the Barbie you think of when you think "Barbie." While there is a diverse cast of Barbies and Kens played by familiar faces, they're not cast to be "Barbie and Ken" in the way that Robbie and Gosling are. At one point in the film, at Ken's urging, a Nobel Prize in Horses is given out. For her part, Robbie seems to be trying to win an Academy Award in Barbie. Once again, this role carries a lot of contradictory expectations with it. We all know about Barbie, and her perfect, silly, fake little world, where everything is pink and plastic, and about 23% too small. Robbie gets laughs by parodying the doll Barbie, but also embodying her unironically as if it's the role of a lifetime. This is a silly, frivolous, comedic character, which also requires extremely serious dramatic acting, and the one side informs the other. This is both the fashion doll "Barbie," and a real person who is having a nervous breakdown, either because she's becoming a real person, or for other reasons which are only barely explained, and arguably outside the scope of this film. (America Ferrara's "crazy drawings" and parental angst are only hinted at, as is whatever magic connects Barbie to Mattel.) Margot is good enough as an actress that you never question it. She brings some serious drama to scenes which aren't otherwise filmed like serious drama. It is also fun to see Barbie wear all her little outfits, an energy which she also brought to the worldwide premieres of the film, with a different Barbie outfit at each event. I believe the SAG-AFTRA strike meant that we missed out on some of her final Barbie looks, and this thought will haunt me. Margot Robbie fulfills one of the requirements for playing Barbie in a film like this, which is that you should be a little too attractive to be playing someone as bland as Barbie. This is something that Mattel understood when they turned the adult property "Lilli" into the kids property "Barbie." Even Helen Mirren's narration points out, at one point, that Margot Robbie has difficulty playing Barbie as "ugly," even when "ugly crying." She has no such difficulty playing Barbie as a cultural monolith, or with a wink as she floats downstairs as a Barbie girl in a Barbie world.

That song, Barbie Girl by Aqua, parodied the character in a way which got them sued by Mattel, and which would still be inappropriate in this film if played in full. But audiences would also notice if it wasn't played, so once again the film is put in an impossible position, and tries to have it both ways. So the end credits have a song which features portions of "Barbie Girl." The intro also features Lizzo, discussing Barbie's pink world in a way which gives it a little more street cred. And there's a sad ballad by Billie Eilish which better reflects Barbie's identity crisis- and the film's.

I wasn't left wanting more- the film does not call for a sequel- but I was left wanting more clarity on what we got. What have we really achieved, at the end, for the Barbies and Kens, and does it matter? What have we achieved in the real world, and does it matter? Does this journey only really matter for Barbie herself? What does it even mean to have Barbie in the real world? Okay, that's better left unexplained, probably. Like most of our journeys it's about growing up, learning how the world works, and realizing you actually can't go back home again. Even Barbie never really had a choice. The connection between the real world and Barbie world is probably best left unexplained, although the transition is handled well with rear-projection backgrounds. it does raise the question of how "real" Will Ferrell's character even is, as he acts almost like an escaped Ken. How "real" is the real world when it also has magical elements and exaggerated characters? What is Barbie's connection to the ghost of Ruth Handler, who only sort of created Barbie anyway? Why is "Barb" from "Barb and Star" here? Is that to make the movie more "Barb"-y?

At one point an FBI agent calls in, tracking Barbie. This is never mentioned again- I believe that those tracking Barbie afterward are Mattel employees, and not a lot of them. Is Gloria connected to our Barbie because she works at Mattel, and played with a discarded Barbie? Were her "weird drawings" really all that weird? Can we assume that the Barbies reflect the dreams of the girls playing with them, including a doctor played by trans actress Hari Nef, and a President played by Issa Rae? Wouldn't there be a lot of Barbie Lands in that case, with this little town just standing in for all of them? That sounds too complicated. Does it matter?

If this is a current Barbie lineup, without "discontinued" dolls, why are the retro pair of pregnant Midge and rainbow-shirted Allan present? We never see them together either, so what is Allan? Is "Allan" its own gender entirely? What would it mean to be Allan-gender? (Allan appears to be, simply, Michael Cera, no more and no less.) What is Allan's motivation? Is it enough to say that "Allan is Ken's Buddy" and that "all of Ken's clothes fit him?" Probably! Would it fix the Kens' problems if they figured out whether any of this is a gay thing, or not? Is "Weird Barbie" (Kate McKinnon) a gay thing? Isn't she "weirder" in the real world than she is in the "Barbie world?"

I believe we never hear about Skipper, Barbie's younger sister, in the film until hearing that a Skipper once escaped into the real world. Two Skippers, including the bizarre "Growing Up Skipper" (with growing bust) appear as discontinued Barbies later. It is clearer, for this film's purposes, to just refer to a lot of Barbies and Kens when setting up this world. But I'll bet there was a draft setting up Skipper. There have been a lot of animated Barbie movies where Barbie has a family and other continuity, but this film is more interested in a personal experience of Barbie rather than any of that corporate lore. I've heard that some of the animated Barbie Dreamhouse content is jokey and meta.

Basically none of the male characters have motivations that make very much sense or are explored in any detail, which I think was a good choice on the director's part.

And that's just the stuff that seems to matter, until it doesn't, like the entire plot. There are a lot of throwaway moments and details which will make you say, that was kind of weird. Or, I have questions about that.

There's a few jokes in the film about "guy movies," and it seems significant that Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer, which was originally tracking to open to much smaller audiences than Barbie, has been very successful in piggybacking off of Barbie as a double feature. For one thing, this is Ken behavior. For another, the online reaction was sometimes very toxic. People excited about going to see Barbie on social media were often harassed with all kinds of slurs. Even by itself this supports the very basic point about what women have to put up with. The opening was a huge success for both films, with Barbie surpassing $200 million and Oppenheimer crossing $100 million between Thursday and Tuesday or so, opening weekend.

I was reminded of how Barbie's trailer sets this movie up as really something special, which the movie itself delivers on. The movie has something to say about Barbie, and about the world we live in. It's visually beautiful and funny. It calls back to classic films of the 20th century, such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Grease, golden-age musicals, The Matrix, The Wizard of Oz, and the work of Jacques Tati. When I saw Barbie, on the big screen, it was preceded by some of the worst movie trailers I've seen in my life. Often movies based on toys and familiar IP, with nothing interesting to say, saying it in the most obnoxious way possible.

Barbie is a silly toy commercial comedy that also manages to, for the most part, be a meaningful piece of cinema with something to say, crafted masterfully by the director. It does what a "guy's movie" would do backward in heels, making an impossible situation seem relatively effortless. There are things that this movie does not accomplish, but under the circumstances I wouldn't expect it to. Barbie is a concept by which we may measure ourselves, if we so choose. It is the start of a conversation, asking questions that it is not at all prepared to answer. For the Barbies and Kens, nothing needs to be resolved. For us in the real world, nothing ever can be. Barbie does not have the answers. In its desire to please many different kinds of audiences, as well as its corporate masters at Mattel and Warner Bros, there is something inevitably missing at the heart of the film. This Barbie is a gorgeous piece of plastic, but it is also, in the end, inevitably hollow. And in that missing space in the middle, it is inevitable that audience members will insert themselves. That is true whether you see yourself as a Barbie, a Ken, a Gloria, a Sasha, a Greta, whatever Allan is, or something else entirely. This Barbie has more personality than other Barbies have, and I think this movie could be very meaningful to people, but that's going to depend on what they, personally, are bringing to this movie as viewers. I hope, in the end, you too realize that you are Kenough. More reviews: https://letterboxd.com/garrettgilchrst/films/reviews/by/release/

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | On The Precipice Of Forever | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “You look… Stunning.” 

One wedding might just lead to another, much to your father’s relief.

Requested by Anon

Chava’s betrothed needs no introduction when she tells you they are getting married. Practically having grown up together, you are already very familiar with her childhood sweetheart, Joshua. It is no surprise that the two are finally deciding to tie the knot; they have always had this amazing chemistry between them ever since their early teens. It had taken some convincing, but their parents finally came to an agreement. 

Your personal plus-one to the wedding has yet to ask the big question. 

Even your own abba has started to grow impatient, nudging the anxious fisherman into the right direction by hinting at asking for his blessings some day. You doubt it is intentional, but Andrew barely responds to said words from your father, only becoming a stuttering mess instead. It’s both adorable and mildly infuriating at the same time, for there are more people in your environment who are either getting engaged, married, or having families. In spite of Andrew and you having been sweet on each other for quite a while now, nothing has been made official yet. The constant orbiting around one another whilst being very much in love is just tiresome at times.

“Perhaps that this will be the final push he needs to finally figure things out.” Your father does not mean to sound harsh, but there is definitely an edge of truth to his voice whilst you get ready for Chava’s wedding day. You have taken your favourite dress from the wardrobe and donned it in front of the cracked mirror that stands at your mother’s side of their bed. Smoothing your hands down the fabric, you roll your eyes playfully before you shoot him a look.

“Oh, abba, he is just trying to do his best.” 

“Waiting for the perfect moment,” your mother insists as she tucks your hair into place, having put it in some sort of up-do and tucked under a veil that matches your dress in two of your favourite colours. “Your father knows how much you love him, (Y/n). He just wants to see you two happy.” 

“He just wants more grandchildren. He already has grandchildren.” you counter, referring to your brother’s three young children between the ages of two and seven. Still, the idea of getting married to Andrew and starting a family with him sounds wonderful nevertheless.

Your father’s eyes glitter a bit as he smiles, looking younger than he is. It is during moments like these that you forget about his age. “I’m just teasing you, my girl. I know that you two will finally bind yourselves to each other once the time is right. Maybe it’s good to wait for a while longer, at least until the fishing industry is doing a bit better—” 

“—Abba!” 

He heartily chuckles as he shows his palms in defence. “I’m just teasing, (Y/n). Once he asks us, you know we will not refuse, no matter what his career may be like at that moment.” 

You hum and turn back to the mirror, fighting the light pink hue in your cheeks as your mind drifts to the thought of finally making things official. You have been dreaming about calling him your husband. Needless to say, you are starting to feel a little impatient as well.

You had gotten up earlier than usual, so once you are done, your mother announces that she will be heading to market in order to help set up the stalls of a few of her friends, whose days have yet to start. “Be careful today,” she tells you as she kisses your forehead, “I am sure you will turn heads today.” 

“There is only one head I seek to turn, eema.” you remind her, causing her to smile and tap the tip of your nose.

“I know, pumpkin. Now, I really have to go before I’ll be late. Have fun today, give Chava my best regards and blessings, and tell her that I hope to visit some day soon. Oh, and please apologise that we can’t be there today. We’d have loved to see it happen.” Your mothers responsibilities make it so that she isn’t able to share in the joy today and your father can’t come on his own with the state of his decreasing health. 

“I will.” you promise her, helping her put on her cloak against the morning cold. 

When she opens the door, however, Andrew stands right in the middle of knocking, fist raised as he startles a bit. “Oh, shalom Malka. I was just about to—” 

“—I know. Have fun today, and look after my daughter.” 

Your mother nods at the curly-haired fisherman whilst knowingly smiling before brushing past him, finally revealing you in your prettiest dress. The younger son of Jonah is momentarily dumbfounded as he drinks you in, feeling his heart skip a beat as light seems to envelop you as if you are an ethereal being. The way he is practically gawking at you right now makes you clear your throat, snapping him out of his trance.

“You… Wow… You look… Stunning.” Andrew stumbles over his words as he eyes you up and down, then up again. His heart rears inside his chest as he observes you; The way the colours fit your complexion, the way the rope you’ve tied around your waist accentuates your body in a very flattering manner as well as the style in which the veil is tied around your (h/c) locks— you look like a dream. For a few long seconds, Andrew barely knows what to say whilst you shyly finger the linen of your best dress, tugging at it a little further down in an attempt to smooth out the creases.

“Do you really think so?” 

Andrew coughs behind his hand and nod eagerly. 

“Yes! Oh, yes. Very beautiful, you…. You look breathtaking, honestly.” 

You melt at the compliment, having to resist the urge to reach out and push his shoulder playfully. Only now, you realise that the fisherman is wearing a tunic that matches your veil. It must be purely a coincidence that it does, yet it still makes your heart flutter. 

“Thank you. You look very handsome in that colour.” 

Andrew hums and puffs out his chest a little, letting one of his hands go to a sleeve to feel at the little embroidery at the end of it. “It’s a little fancier than what I’m used to, and a lot more itchy, but I feel good in it.” 

Your father steps up behind you, causing Andrew to nervously gulp. 

“Shalom, Reuben.” 

“Shalom shalom, Andrew. All dressed up for the wedding, I see?” He winks at the young man, who lets out a small laugh, albeit a bit awkward.

“It’s the best tunic I own. I’m surprised it wasn’t eaten by moths yet.” 

Your father chuckles. “Ah, don’t you worry about that, now. You know, you are taking a lot of responsibility onto your shoulders by bringing (Y/n) along, right?” 

“Joshua is a good friend of mine, and Chava of hers.” Andrew quickly says, “I— I’m just trying to be polite, that I offered to come and pick her up. Of—Of course she would have been able to travel safely all by herself regardless, but… It’s… It’s nothing, really. Barely any effort, just a small detour, you know? It’s the least I could do.” Your father hums upon hearing the fisherman downplay his intentions of getting out of his way to come and pick you up.

Even though it is meant to deflect from your father teasing the two of you with your obvious chemistry, it still makes you feel a little upset to hear Andrew say these things out loud. He must have picked up on your sudden embarrassment, for the moment he looks back at you, his face pales a bit. “Shall we— Uh, shall we go?” 

You nod and turn to your father. “You have fun, alright? Give the happy pair our blessings and don’t forget what your eema said to tell them.” 

“Of course, abba. Don’t you worry about that.” 

At that, the two of you leave the house and walk in heavy silence for a block or two. There is a fair bit of distance between you and Andrew. You hope he will step closer to you so that your hands may brush together every so often.

“You know, my father likes you.” you pipe up suddenly. It’s not like Andrew doesn’t know that, but he still enjoys to hear it being said out loud nevertheless. After all, it’s a massive relief to know that the parents of the woman you’re planning to make your wife approve of you. Still, Andrew doesn’t really get the hint just yet.

“I’m glad that he does. He used to be a good friend of my late father after all, may he rest in peace.” 

“No, I mean he likes you. Do you think he would have allowed me to be escorted by either John or James?” 

Andrew blinks in slight confusion. “I—I mean, I don’t know, I—I think so?” 

“Despite my abba being good friends with Zebedee, I think he’d find it inappropriate.” 

The curly-haired fisherman gives you a nervous smile. “So why does he allow me to bring you with me?” You give him a look: he can’t really be that oblivious, can he? Your heart speeds up at how sweetly yet innocently he is watching you now. 

“Why do you think that is?” 

He gives you a sheepish smile. “I don’t— I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

He shakes his head, causing you to click your tongue. “Oh, please, Andrew. That man has been wondering when you’d finally show up to our house and ask for my—” 

“—Shalom shalom you two! Wow, you two look like a proper couple!” 

Simon interrupts the conversation from somewhere behind you, where he and Eden are making their way towards you. He walks up so that he is next to his younger brother and squeezes his shoulder. You give Eden a smile in greeting, which she gladly reciprocates with a friendly nod. “Even my wife and I aren’t matching today.” 

“No, you are wearing the same tunic you always do.” Eden says with a small edge of annoyance to her tone, something you pick up on, unlike her husband. You give her an apologetic look, which she replies to with a small shrug and a shake of her head to indicate that it is no big deal.

You sigh a bit as you watch Simon completely take over the conversation, causing you to step behind in order to walk with Eden instead. The woman smiles knowingly at you, nudging you gently. “Sorry about Simon. Had I known you two were walking there together, I’d have held him back.” 

You shrug and swallow hard. “It’s fine, don’t you worry about it.” 

“It’s not fine. The two of you were having a conversation that may have been important.” 

“It… It kind of was,” you admit, sighing in slight embarrassment. 

Feeling slightly guilty about the situation, Eden hums and steps closer to chastise her husband regarding his behaviour, grabbing his wrist to make him halt in his step. 

“I forgot something at home,” she uses as an excuse, “My belt is still there,” which isn’t a lie, for now that you look at it, the rope around Eden’s waist is indeed missing. “And… I need to speak to you in private.” 

Simon puts his hands on his hips. “I have no secrets from my brother.” Eden offers him a glare before nodding back towards where they came from. 

“Simon, walk with me. Now.” 

The older son of Jonah scoffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as he looks at Andrew. “I’m telling you, brother, once you have a wife and she has you wrapped around her finger, you can’t say no to her anymore, ever. I’ll see you guys later.” With a rather rough pat on the shoulder, Simon leaves his younger brother behind with you. 

Once both Eden and Simon round the corner, you let out a sigh. Andrew is standing there with a bit of a puzzled expression on his face, wondering what to make of his brother’s words. Walking up to him, you clear your throat, clearly a little taken aback as well. “Shall we, uh… Shall we go?” 

“Yes—Yes, of course.” Andrew breathes. The two of you continue your journey to the wedding when he suddenly speaks up again. “You were saying something just before we were interrupted.” 

“Ah, it’s… It’s nothing important.” 

The large doors where the party will be hosted behind appear on the other end of the street as you make a turn to the left. 

“Not important?” Andrew asks as you approach the set of doors, a woman at the entrance going over the list in her hands as a few other guests arrive before allowing them inside. “I think that most things you say are important.” 

You swallow hard, feeling a little embarrassed at the earlier encounter when Simon cut you off right when you had gathered enough confidence to tell him about what your father had suggested Andrew to do. 

“Something about your abba, no? About him allowing me to escort you while not letting others do so for some reason? He was wondering something…” 

Ignoring the question for now, you tell your names to the woman at the entrance. She checks and gives you both a soft smile. “Yes, you two are on the list. Welcome, and enjoy the celebrations!” 

“Thank you.” you breathe as the employee grants both of you access. Andrew remains a step or so behind you as you rush inside, hoping to find your friends soon lest you have to feel uncomfortable about the situation for any longer.

In the meantime, Andrew’s mind is reeling with possibilities. What does it mean when a father allows his daughter in the care of a man who is not her husband? Why would he let him bring you with him to a wedding, especially when the two of you are wearing outfits that make it look an awful lot like a couple… Why wouldn’t he allow James or John to do the same?

…The moment you step forward, the chuppah in the background, coupled with the colourful, floral decorations adorning the place, Andrew feels all breath leave his lungs. The moment the light seems to be drawn to you again as if you are an angel in and of itself, coupled with the way you watch him as you look over his shoulder to see where he is at, it suddenly clicks.

“He wants me to ask for your hand in marriage.” 

The words are maybe uttered more to himself than to you, but you feel your face heat up nevertheless. “Yes,” you confess, lowering your gaze as you fold your hands in front of you, “He has been wondering that for a while now, what is taking you so long…” 

“Honestly?” Andrew whispers, “I’m terrified that you’ll say no.” 

You swallow hard as your throat runs dry. Had you ever come across as if you would reject him? “Why ever would I say no?” 

“I don’t— I don’t know.” Andrew admits. “I know I shouldn’t be so anxious, but it’s a huge thing, you know?”

You step closer to him so that your conversation can continue in hushed whispers, lest anyone overhear you and get the idea that Andrew is asking you to marry him during the wedding of your best friend, which would be considered bad taste when done without explicit consent from bride and groom themselves. 

“It may be huge, but are you certain about it? About you and I?” 

“More certain than about anything.” he tells you, having to resist the incredible urge to reach out and take your hand in his. 

A soft smile grows over your lips, only widening as he mirrors the expression. “Good. I’m glad. Me, too.” 

For a moment, the two of you maintain eye-contact in silence before looking around the decorated space. You are almost certain that the same thing must go through the fisherman’s head as well— The same thing imagined of the two of you standing under that canopy on the other end of the aisle, instead of your two friends. 

“Then I will ask him.” Andrew promises, “Soon. And then I will ask you, properly.” 

You feel your cheeks warm and you smile. Before you can speak further on the topic, however, you are ushered towards the other women at the party to get the ceremony started. Andrew heads for where the men are seated but not without keeping his eyes fixed on you. 

Andrew finds his brother, who wraps an arm around him. “Got something on your mind?” Simon immediately sees through him, following Andrew’s gaze to where you are taking a seat next to Eden. He chuckles lightly. “Ah, I see.” 

Even though Simon is telling the truth, Andrew wants to tell him off for speaking out of turn, but the attention shifts to the groom coming out to stand under the chuppah. For a second, the curly-haired fisherman imagines himself right there before sighing deeply, knowing there is something he must do first. However, judging by the way you speak about it and your father’s obvious support, there is nothing he should be worried about.

The two of you lock eyes across the room for just a moment, yet a thousand things are said within one glance. 

Next time, it will be the two of you standing there.

[deepbluececil]

Tag dump 2

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 110 - Under the Command of Evil Georgiou

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 1 Episode 15 - Will You Take My Hand?

Okay, We're now onto the Season 1 Finale of Discovery! I'm excited to see how we end this season out!

We open aboard Discovery with making quoting something about the nature of feart, and unfortunately I don't recognise it, so I'm just left with the Foreboding nature of the passage.

This Georgiou's command style is immediately noticeably Terran. I loved how tense the Bridge was during the opening sequence. Her absolute disdain for the Klingons, Saru, and later in the episode Ash Tyler, pushes all of the right buttons in my head, and I can't wait for her to get her comeuppance. She makes a few veiled references to how she eats Kelpians towards Saru, and it just made my skin crawl, and so did her calling Ash an "it" later on. Unfortunately however, there is not much the crew can do for now, as she's the only one who fully knows the plan.

After the intro Georgiou and Michael interrogate L'Rell about which landing site would be best for discovery. Of Course L'Rell doesn't talk, which launches Georgiou into a much more brutal method of getting the information out of her. That doesn't work either, and Michael calls that to a stop. I'm really glad that Michael is starting to realise that maybe this isn't the way to go. Michael then takes Georgiou to Ash, and since he has Voq's memories, he willingly gives over the information they want. We also get a bit of worldbuilding about Klingon history, just a bit about Kahless and how he defeated someone called Molor, who the Klingons seemed to have worshipped in a similar way to how they worship Kahless now. I really want to know more this, and I'm trying to piece together their culture from the little scraps I'm being given.

This episode from the get go is clearly about the clear difference between Imperial tactics and Federation Tactics, and whether or not the ends justify the means when it comes to Georgiou's brutality.

This episode is putting in a lot of work to undo the mistakes of the last few episodes surrounding Georgiou, and I am 100% here for it. The last couple episodes tried to make her too sympathetic, when she is a fascist dictator, but here she is written and portrayed in such a creepy slimey way, and it's definetly what they should have been doing from the get go. I've already mentioned her racism, but also in the way she interacts with the human crew. Her various threats towards Michael, and just general attitude towards Sylvia Tilly gives me shivers, and in this episode alone I think she's earned a spot among my favourite villains so far.

Discovery Makes it's jump into the caves of Kronos, and the ground crew, made up of Michael, Ash Sylvia and Georgiou exit into an Orion market to try and get the location of this shrine.

On a side note, the more even split among male and female Orion slaves makes the whole idea feel a lot less behind-the-scenes slimy than the Orions did in Enterprise, thankfully. Here it feels slimy in a way where it feels like it's supposed to feel slimy, and not just... whatever Enterprise was doing in it's Orion focus episode. Also I'm not going to pretend like the eye-candy isn't appreciated in my bisexual brain, it feels a lot less uncomfortable when it doesn't feel like exploitation.

Amongst the chaos of the market, we get a few good downtime scenes, particularly of Sylvia being an absolute fish out of water, and a really well written heart to heart between Ash and Michael, where we finally get the full details of what happened to Michael's Bio-parents. Her survivor's guilt over this trauma is an interesting angle, and the detail of her memory over her trauma is something I really want to see explored in the future, and it really adds a interesting layer with her relationship with Ash.

Tilly finds out that the Drone she's guarding isn't a drone, but a planet cracking bomb designed to make the planet uninhabitable, and unfortunately Georgiou has moved too fast for Discovery to do anything.

Thankfully, Discovery manages to talk Starfleet out of the plan, and fromt here it's just a matter of sending in Michael to convince Georgiou to stop, which turned out easier than expected. Discovery hands the Detonator over to L'Rell, and convinces her to step up as the Klingons leader, and end the war. Ash choses to go with him, meaning we'll need a new chief of Security again. His goodbye to Michael . Georgiou is then let free, and I'm hoping we'll see her again sooner rather than later, because she still has a lot fascisty stuff to answer for.

Michael's speech at the end as she obtains her official pardon, and the crew get their official commendations, was also a fantastic way to cap off the season. We're also given an absolute shocker of a cliffhanger, as Discovery picks up a distress call from the Enterprise, so I can't wait to see what that's about!

I really liked this finale. I was shaky going into it with how the previous episodes were treating Georgiou, but this more than made up for it. It really capped of the whole methods vs results theme the season was going for, and it was just generally fun. I enjoyed myself here.

I have a couple Short Treks which I'll cover in one post tomorrow, and then immediately onto Season 2!

[watcher-with-burned-wings]

Bad Thoughts Give Me Bad Dreams

(Dragon Scott au with flower ranchers)

Many years ago, dragons, humans, and hybrids lived in peace. The humans had land and farms, and the dragons had mountains and skies. The hybrids were free to pass through either domain. That was until dragons discovered magic. When the humans found out, they got increasingly jealous. Soon the humans convinced the hybrids that the dragons were too powerful. The hybrids and humans attacked the unsuspecting dragons, wiping out many of them. The remaining dragons refused to fight and turned to hide. The dragons disappeared without a trace. No one knew where they fled as they did not return to the mountains. Even after all these years, many humans were still set on hunting them down.

Somewhere in the sea on the coast, is a cave. Deep within this underwater cave, leads to a hidden civilization. Once a lush cave had grown into a sanctuary for the remaining of the fallen race. The walls shifted from stone alto diorite to calcite. Glow from berries glimmered in the amethyst clusters dotted around the cave.  Vines hung from ledge to ledge, from stalactite to stalagmites, and decorated nests. Moss and azaleas were used as bedding and padding, magic growing the azaleas into trees. Using the same magic, crops were grown. Fresh spring water flowed down one side of the cave. Dragons walked around and glided through the air as they chatted and lived peacefully. A market was in the middle of the refuge. Many sold fish, or the more darning ones sold game from the surface.

A pair of dragons watched the bustle of their kind from a small ledge. On the ledge was their nest. Two eggs were resting in the center. A crack appeared on the shell of the larger egg. Both parents turned eagerly and watched as two tiny legs pushed out of the shell, cracking the egg fully. A purple-haired hatching sat in the middle of the eggshell, its black wings were visibly strong, and its horns shone proudly. The parents only admired their hatchling momentarily before the other egg cracked.

Unlike the first hatchling, a small hole was formed, and a small face poked out. The hatchling pushed hard against the shell and popped his head out as the top of the egg cracked. A startled squeak came as he rolled out of the egg. This hatching had cyan hair, small horns, and weak wings, but his claw-like hands were webbed with a fin-like tail. The parents were ecstatic that they had a sky-borne and a sea-borne hatchling.  They dubbed them Xornoth and Scott.

As the years passed, the siblings soon grew from hatchlings to fledglings. Xornoth was the first to learn how to fly. Scott struggled to fly due to his features but could glide for long periods. When it came to learning how to swim, Scott flew through the depths, while Xornoth struggled to stay afloat. The cyan-fledging soon learned he had gills on the side of his neck, allowing him to breathe underwater.

While being different, both brothers were extremely close. They played, fought, and shared everything. But one thing they both loved was the days of homecoming. Every six months, they would race to the cave Gate and wait for the exploration team to return. The Gate was the water passage that led to the cavern. It was protected by a strong magic to only allow dragons through.   When the older dragon appeared from the water, everyone cheered as they brought new technologies or food for the colony. Scott would watch with stars in his eyes as he admired the team. He made himself a promise they when he was old enough, he would be on that team.

===========

A purple and black blur shot through the cavern air space, a blue flash following beneath. Wedded claws gripped at store roofs, springing across gaps and streets.  A fin-like tail flashed behind as he glided from roof to roof.  Calling out apologizes as he dodges around clotheslines or startled elders. His sibling’s laughs echo above him as they grips their stomach at their brother’s dilemma. A smirk graces his face as they slam back first into a stalactite. They fell onto a nearby roof.

“You deserved that!” Scott snickered as he stepped around Xornoth’s fallen form. They groaned in response to Scott’s jab. Scott fondly rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’re going to be late for homecoming.” Grabbing his sibling’s arm, he pulled them up. They wobbled before shaking themselves off.

Scott leaped off the building with a laugh as he heard an agitated ‘Hey!’ come from his nestmate. He descended into the middle of the street and took off running towards the Gate. Dragon folks of all ages started to converge on the plaza. Scott slipped into the front of the crowd, tail swaying eagerly as he watched the Gate. Xornoth dropped beside him and pushed his shoulder.

“Jerk! I could have missed it,” They complained, crossing their arms over their chest. “And here you would have been.”

“Oh shush! You were fine.” He responded as he rubbed his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “I’ve seen you take worse falls than that. You’re just being dramatic.” Xornoth pouted at him before a gurgling caught both of their attention.

The water in the Gate began to swirl in a vortex and changed in color as the magic reacted. From the vortex, a sea-borne dragon shot up into the air, followed by two sky-borne dragons and then a nature-born dragon. The group landed in front of the crowd of dragons, their arms full of supplies and new shiny objects. But something was off.

A solemn air surrounded the group of newly returned dragons. A wave of confused whispers and murmurs passed through the crowd. Everyone watched the pool, waiting for the other two members to appear. Like everyone else, Scott and Xornoth were concerned by the absence of two of their kind. The sea-borne stepped up with a solemn air to him, hushing every dragon in the process.

“To my dismay, I must inform you Tilly and Dan have sadly perished during our adventure.” The leader informed. A stunned shock settled on the shoulders of the community. “They sacrificed themselves to allow the rest of us to escape from the humans. So let us not waste their sacrifice and forever remember them and celebrate the supplies they allowed us to forge.” The leader tried to lighten the mood.

The crowd agreed, dispersing around the market. A band had begun to play songs of remembrance to grieve their loss, then switched to a more upbeat one. Couples dance in the square, while game stalls begin to shout for players. Soon laughter lifted the solemn mood. Scott watched from a shadowed corner, sitting on a barrel, Xornoth finding him after spending some time enjoying the festivities.

Approaching cautiously, Xornoth asked, “Scott? What are you doing here? You should be out there, having fun.” They sat down on a crate next to him.

“Just thinking.” He replied, watching a bat fly around. Xornoth gave an unimpressed look.

“Scott.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, fidgeting with his tail. His sibling rested a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I promise, you can tell me anything.”

Scott looked at them finally, taking a deep breath. “I am thinking of joining the group to the outside world.” He admitted, not looking them in the eyes. “I know how dangerous it is, but I want to do something good for the colony.” He closes his eyes, expecting a backlash. Instead, he got a gentle hug.

“I know,” Xornoth whispered. “I will never stop you from pursuing your dream. Just come back to me safe, that's all I ask.” Scott hugged him back tightly, burying his face into his sibling's shoulder.

“I will promise.”

Xornoth cradled his younger brother close to his chest. “You better or I’m hunting you down myself and turning you into a rug.” Scott laughed wetly as he pulled away. Xornoth grinned and grabbed his hand. “Now let’s go play some games, I’m going to beat you so bad!”

Scott smiled as he walked with them, “No you’re not, I’ll win easily.”

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

It was the third anniversary of the passing of two of the members of the adventure group. It was also the day when Scott joined the team. All the group was reluctant to let the fledging join their ranks but agreed. The first year was spent learning and observing, and Joel made sure of that. Joel was the leader of the group and a sea-borne like Scott. He was a natural-born leader as he gave instructions flawlessly and proficiently.  Scott learned many skills from him. Hunting, fighting, and stealing are the main ones.

His partner was Lizzie, one of the two sky-borne dragons. She oversaw planning missions and was a rather good fighter. Many of the plans the group chose were approved by Lizzie. When not prepping for a mission, she was rather protective of their newest member. She would cook great meals and sing songs when they were resting. Scott enjoyed her company late at night when she would point out constellations. Her scales were a shimmering sea green.

Next, Grian. He was the other sky-borne dragon of the group. He was a master of disguise and deception. He loves causing confusion and distraction to humans as much as possible. The red-scaled dragon loved any explosive he could get his hands on. Anything shimmery or a button to be pressed, he pushes or takes. When not on a mission, he plays pranks on them. No matter what, Grian is there to make Scott smile. Learning how to set traps had to be Scott’s favorite memory with him.

Last, but not least, was Scar. The nature-borne dragon was Grian’s significant other. While clumsy, he was a master at magic. All dragons knew of some magic, but Scar could outdo them any day. His skill with a bow was incredible and well-practiced. Scar had taught him how to use magic and recite important spells as well as potion making. Scott’s favorite memory is when he accidentally turned the emerald, green dragon into a vivid lavender purple. Everyone had a great laugh.

The second year he mostly allowed Scott to branch out. Engaging the skills, he had studied into practice. The fledging of seventeen rotations soon expanded his reach. He battled in missions with Joel, stole alongside Grian, cast and prepped spells with Scar, and cooked with Lizzie. Scott couldn’t have been happier.

By the spring of the third season, Scott had nearly surpassed all his teachers. He won a duel against Joel. He created a spell all on his own. He even picked up strategizing from Lizzie, helping her to come up with backup plans and escape routes. Everyone was proud of him. Xornoth and their parents were over the moon every time he came home with stories to tell when he visited.

Homecoming had just wrapped up. The team, minus Scott, was planning where they would go next.  Scott walked beside Xornoth, who had grown as well. They were the captain of the guardian force. He was proud of his sibling for making such momentous progress. The two were making idly chit-chat as they headed towards the building where they were residing for the night before heading out the next morning.

Xornoth spoke up suddenly, “Scott… maybe you should hang back this time.”

“What?”

“Just for this year, you know mom is sick so I was just thinking you should be here in case something happens.” They explained, his gaze turned away.

“Xornoth, she has a cold,” Scott deadpanned. “She’s already nearly fully recovered. If something bothers you, just let me know. Don’t dance around it.” He stated bluntly, stopping in his tracks to look at his sibling.

Laughing, “You know me too well. Okay, I guess…” They relent. “I just… have been having horrible dreams about you. In the nightmares, you would be locked in a cage, humans surrounding you. They just seemed so real…” They grabbed his hands, staring him dead in the eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Scott.”

He pulled his sibling close and engulfed them in a hug. “I vow that I will return to you no matter what. I’ll be careful, I swear.” He pulled away. “Besides, if I’m gone, who’s going to be your annoying little brother?” He gave in a cheeky grin.

Despite looking reassured, Xornoth still seemed troubled. Sighing, Scott compromised, “How about every few weeks I send a letter through flame mail? Will that help?”

“Yeah, just to hear from you.” They agreed.

“Great, now I need to head to the grand hall to meet and plan with the others.” Scott hugged his older sibling once more before letting go.

“Stay safe,” Xornoth called as he walked off. Scott rolled his eyes and called back, “Okay mother hen!” Xornoth squawked in outrage as Scott ran off laughing.

Slipping inside the grand hall, Scott found his companions discussing a map.  

“But Lizzie, we can’t go back to Crystal Cliffs, we were just there,” Joel explained. “It would be best if we went to the Southlands.” Lizzie shook her head.

“It’s too far of a journey this time of year. The tides aren’t in our favor.” She pointed to another place; a city built at the mouth of a river. “Midnight Valley is relatively close.”

Grian piped up. “Oh, heck no! We nearly got caught because of that bottlenecked trap!” Using feather-light steps, Scott crept over and gazed at the map. Lizzie huffed in frustration. “Then where do you suggest we head too?”

Grian studied the map and then pointed to a small group of islands. “What about the Coral Isles? They have good resources.”

Scar frowns. “Don’t they have a pufferfish infestation they are taking care of?”

“Ah, I forgot that part…” He slumped in his seat.

“What if we were to head to Ranch Town?” Scott suggested, alarming everyone.

Scar clutched his chest and panted, “Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a stroke!” Scott had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry Scar.”

Joel looked at the map, considering Scott’s suggestion. “Why would you say that place?” Scott looked up at him and then at the map. “Well, if we were to travel there, we could camp on the small uninhabited shores near the bottom of the edge of civilization without having to cast huge spells. And Joel and I will always have seawater.” Lizzie nodded slowly.

“I see your point, there are plenty of escape routes if we choose to swim upstream.” She traces the river divides, then taps the docks. “They also have the largest world trade port, allowing us to steal some rare necessities.” Joel nodded.

“I agree. We haven’t been there for ages. Looks like we’re heading to Ranch Town.” The leader declared, “We leave in the morning, so prepare accordingly.  Ranch Town is a week’s worth of travel.”

Everything was settled, so the adventurers headed off to bed, unknowing of the strife ahead.

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

Weaving through the crowds, Joel and Scott dashed through the dock. Shouts followed them as knights gave chase. Tucked in Scott’s claws was an book, he had stolen from a royal merchant ship. Twin cloaks flailed behind them as they fled the scene. The chase had been going on for around a good twenty minutes by now.

Scott was starting to tire as Joel gave a nod, signaling to split up.

Scott turned down a small side street, trying to lose the guards. As he ran, he wondered how this had happened. It was supposed to be a simple operation. Get in and out. But everything went wrong right away. The ship that was supposed to be there was a simple merchant ship, not a royal one. Then the guards swamped the boat. Everyone scattered, guards tailing them. This brings us to where he is currently.

Four guards sprinted after him. He glanced at the book and wondered why they wanted it so obsessively. Shotting out of the alley, he ran into the road, sliding under a cart that nearly trapped him. He snickered as he heard a few cusses, dashing swiftly around a corner, only to nearly run into a horse.

He stumbles into the dirt on his butt. He looked up to yell, only to pale, seeing the head of the royal guard. The head of the royal guard was the prince’s fiancé, Tango. He was a hot head blaze hybrid, fiercely protective of the kingdom. Nearly no one had escaped him before, minus his group. But he was about to clean his record. Scott tried to scramble away, but his boots couldn’t get a grip on the sediment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tango hopped down and placed his knee into Scott’s spine, nearly on his hidden wings. The book, long forgotten, fell into the dirt as Scott struggled against Tango, trying to escape. Tango manages to wrangle him into chains as the other knights rounded the corner. Falling limp, Scott realized he was outmatched and outnumbered.

He yelped as his hood was grabbed and he tossed over the horse's back. Tango patted him down, confiscating his small, enchanted dagger and a few regenerating potions. Then the royal knight reached for his cloak clasp. Scott stiffened in fear as he was powerless to prevent the inevitable. He curled slightly as his wings and dragon heritage were revealed. Tango seemed to short-circuit for a moment before recovering, placing the cloak down he turned to his men.

In a commanding voice, “Find the other thieves I need to bring this one to the castle.” Tango orders. “Do not kill. Especially if they are anything like him.” The knights saluted before spreading out to search for his friends.

Scott’s stomach dropped when he heard castle. He couldn’t be serious. But as Tango saddled up, and pushed his horse into a trot, he knew he was in big trouble.

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

 Scott cursed as he was thrown roughly into the cell. He hisses at the guard as the wooden door slams and locks, causing the tower to rumble around him. He glares as he brushes himself off, checking himself over. The cyan-scale Dragonborn had been stripped of nearly everything he owned, left with only the clothes on his back. Sadly, his cloak was confiscated, leaving him only in his trousers.

Glancing around, Scott grimaced.

The cell was circular with a barred lancet window situated above his head, allowing fresh air and sea breeze to filter in. Moonlight cased long shadows but provided enough light to see. The tropical summer humidity caused the cobbled stone to gleam with condensation, making the cell damp. A small wooden bench hung, posing as a poor substitute for a bed, under the window. A tiny wooden bucket filled with murky questionable water was placed beside it—the whole cell smelt of mildew.

Trudging over to the bench, Scott sat down heavily. He closed his eyes as he rested his head against the wall, feeling so stupid about getting caught. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the cone-like ceiling with despair. He should have listened to Xornoth.  He could have spent six months with him. It wouldn’t have killed him to spend time with his family. Now he might not ever see them again.

Ignoring the burning in his eyes, Scott looked at his hands. He looked at his scaly hands and sharp nails. He cupped them together and mumbled under his breath a spell. A ball of light formed and drifted from his hands. A sudden thought came to him, causing him to spring up for the worn old bench. The light drifted above his head as he approached the door.

He nearly laughed at his idiocy. He crouched down and pressed a hand to the cell door. He smirked as he pronounced the lock-pick spell. A click echoed around the small room as the door unlocked. Relief washes over Scott as he pulls open the cell door. He stepped out of the cell, and a narrow staircase leading downward met him. Eager to leave, the dragon leaped down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Scott couldn’t help but feel victorious as he dashed down the stairs.

However, the feeling didn’t last long.

Halfway down the stairs, Scott turns one of the many curves of the staircase. He was in such a rush, that he didn’t realize until it was too late, hitting the prince directly in the chest. They both tumbled, pushing the second person, Tango, down the stairs as well. The trio rolled down in a jumble of limbs and curses. Finally, they stopped near the bottom of the stairs, very bruised and sore.

Scott groaned as he pulled himself out of the pile, groaning as he held his chin where he hit it. He rubbed it, checking for blood, which thankfully there didn’t seem to be. Another groan caught his attention, and he turned to see Tango rubbing his head a bit. The prince just lay on the stairs, looking dazed. He and Tango locked eyes.

Scott bolted. He heard a curse before another pair of footsteps followed him.

Scrambling down the rest of the stairs, Scott practically fell out of the stairway, Tango hot on his heels. Picking a direction, he fled. Much to his dismay, he met two guards right away. Tango called from behind him, causing the knights to notice him. He dodged out of their reach, before continuing down the hallway.

He turned another corner, only to run into a dead end. Come on, Scott thought. I can’t catch a break. He spun around to meet his pursuers, pressing himself back into the wall of the hallway, wings twitching. Tango stepped in front of the two other guards.

“No one needs to get hurt. The prince and I only wanted to ask you some questions and offer you a deal.” He had his hands in a passive position in front of him.

Getting defensive, Scott snarled, “Let me go. Like I would ever help you.” He barred his teeth, at the blaze hybrid. Tango's face fell in a scowl.

“You were caught stealing. Normally, thieves would be sent to work in the mines for a few years. But you’re a special case.” Tango explained.

“And why’s that?” He snapped, his tail whipping aggressively. Footsteps came from behind the group. The guards moved, revealing a disheveled looking prince. A low growl rumbled from Scott’s throat.

“Because we need your magic knowledge.” The prince stated as he fixed his crown. Scott’s eyes scanned him as he towered over him. The canary hybrid stood nearly head over him. Golden feathers ruffled on his head wings. He had sandy blond hair with muddy tried brown eyes. He was clearly near Scott’s age but his eyes mirrored an elders.

“Why?” The dragon asked suspiciously.

“Please. Humans have begun to invade our land. Many hybrids are dying, like many of your kind did.” To Scott’s surprise, the prince knelt and bowed to him. “Please. We’re desperate. I sincerely apologies for the treatment you had this far. I promise, as Jimmy Solitary, so to be king of Ranch Town, that you and your kind will have protection here for as long as I live.” Jimmy had his forehead practically touching the floor. All the knights copied his movements.

To say Scott was lost was an understatement. First, they imprisoned him, then they asked him for help. He shook his head a bit, feeling overwhelmed. “How do I know this isn’t a sick trick?” Scott deflected.

“Please, if it was trick, do you think we would be bowing and not just torturing you?” Tango said with a bit of an eye roll, but something felt off as Jimmy shot him a glare. Scott gulped at that. It was a good point.

“Fine,” Scott admitted, “But what would you need me to do?” Scott questioned.

Relieved, Jimmy stood up from the floor. “If possible, we need more of those potions you had on you. Plus, if you could perhaps make our weapons enchanted as well.” Jimmy thought for a moment. “We’ll provide everything you need to create them as well.”

Scott couldn’t believe he was hearing. It was like something from a dream. Those simple everyday things dragons could do, but the problem was supplies to create them. So having access to everything was a blessing. Biting his lip, his ear fins flicking with thought.

Scott sighed, “My group and I will help you out as a trial run, until we can trust you.” He spoke. “But know, we will never show you where we hide.” He promised.

“Deal!” Jimmy exclaimed excitedly as he took Scott’s claw and shook it. “Thank you, thank you so much.” Scott awkwardly patted his shoulder, feeling as though he made a deal with the devil.

“Yeah, well as long as we remain behind the scenes, I don’t mind helping.” He added on. “And free meals and comfortable rooms.”

Jimmy laughed, his personality doing a one-eighty. “Of course! In the morning, you can go out to find your friends. But please, allow me to show you to your proper room.” Jimmy grabbed his hand and guided him down a corridor. A staircase later and another hallway later, they reached a door.

Tango opened it, revealing a small bedroom. To be honest, it wasn’t much bigger than the cell had been, but it was furnished with a bed and a dresser. A rug covered the stone floor, but there was no window, only touches for light. Scott reluctantly stepped through the doorway.

“Oh, by the way. Tomorrow we will also discuss your punishment, after all, you still stole royal property.” Jimmy added slyly. “Don’t worry about it too much, Cutie. We can add it into the contract that we’ll create we all your friends are here.” Jimmy gave a Cheshire grin. “Sleep well, little dragon.”

With that the door was slammed closed and locked. Scott could hear something being put in front of the push door, locking him in with no way out. Standing in the dark of the room with only torchlight as company, Scott had a feeling he had just sold his soul.

Scott crawled into the bed and cried himself to sleep that night.

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

It was four years later; Scott found himself sitting on the arm of King Jimmy’s throne, dressed in the finest clothes, sitting beside the king himself. The war had finally ended. With the dragons’ help enslavement, the hybrids were able to conquer over the humans, restoring balance. During the war, many dragons had moved from the cave to Ranch Town, having decided to be forced to help.  After dragons were able to begin normal lives in Ranch Town and live happily above ground, free to fly or swim wherever they please. But as per the agreement, Scott must serve an extra two years for his crime.

Jimmy and Tango had married before the war was announced, officially making Jimmy king. Scott was worked to the bone through the first year in captivity. Many potions and weapons nonstop, his hands would blister from how much nether wart he had to touch. His scales would be dry and flaky by the end of the day due to the heat of the brewing stands. Tango had taken notice one day and had him moved.

From then on, he was Jimmy’s personal servant and guard, much to his friends’ protests. Scott simply told them not to worry and continued with his job. Jimmy soon took a liking to Scott, becoming friendly with him rather quickly while Tango was on the front lines. When Tango was sent back due to an injury, he also had taken to a liking to Scott, but much more slowly. Scott, oblivious to royals’ affection, was focused on protecting everyone he endangered. Even when the war ended, Tango and Jimmy agreed that Scott was theirs.

The royals decided to host a ball celebrating the victory, which is where they are now.

Jimmy leaned over and murmured into Scott’s ear, “Come on Scott, don’t look so glum. I know you want to go be with your family and sibling but we’re your family now as well.” A shiver when down his spin at the hot breath on his ear.

A choked off squeak escaped the cyan dragon as Tango petted his wing. “Yeah, we could have lock you in your room for the night, but we graciously allowed you to be here with us.” Tango gave him a small kiss on the forehead. “So don’t be so ungrateful.” Tango chastised lightly.

Scott early on had learned how to get under their skins. “Yes sirs.” He replied sadly. Both frowned instantly.  Neither of them wanted to cause their little dragon to be mad or upset. But they both agreed that sometimes it was needed. But this wasn’t one of those times.

Jimmy tried to recover, “Maybe later you can hang out with Xornoth, they are staying the weekend. But we haven’t seen much of you all week.” He whined, holding Scott’s hand.

“Yeah, and I was only teasing about you room.” Tango added. “We just missed you, cutie.”

Scott smirked internally, having admittedly, started to gain feels of his own towards his to captors. He nodded a bit on the outside, “Okay…” He yawns as he rubs his eyes, having decorated and planned most of the ball himself.

Both Jimmy and Tango melted. Pulling the sleepy dragon into his lap, Jimmy rested him against his chest. Said dragon barely noticed, having done this millions of times, snuggled into Jimmy’s chest. He closed his eyes, falling asleep to the lull of the conversation in the ballroom.

“Sleep well, little dragon.” Both whispered with soft possessive eyes.

[madeofthreads]

@enokvirkow | Noak Adraav

There was a heaviness as Noak came to. He had been fading in and out, treading that delicate thread between life and the brilliant light of beyond. He struggled to make out anything in the dim and the damp.

«"He's alive!"» An unfamiliar voice announced in shock. Their words were familiar, though their accent was a far cry from the harsh northern isles he called home. It belonged to the south where seafarers often exchanged words and goods with farflung trade ships.

He attempted to sit and found himself supported by the stranger's arm. «"Where am I?"» And why did he feel like he was being weighed down by an anchor...?

«"No one knows."» The stranger answered him cryptically. It was the honest truth. «"Foreign trade ships have captured us, we are at the mercy of the mother's seas. She has been fighting but she doesn't wish to claim us in her anger."»

A frown etched across Noak's brow. His memory failed him, a great darkness shrouded whatever had led him to this ship. The last thing he remembered, the very last, he returned from the local market a few fish lighter and with enough rice to share for a feast. He... would meet the Virkow's... but what had happened?

There were few more questions. He was offered what precious water still remained, and bit by bit he realised how dire the situation was.

He was surrounded by fellow islanders, most of which had been beaten down and left to lament as prisoners below the massive deck of a foreign trade ship. If there were any familiar faces, they were distant ones, people he had met in passing.

Apparently this wasn't the only ship. There was talk about people being separated, an act Noak couldn't possibly recall when he wasn't even certain when everything had gone wrong.

The days bled into weeks. Their rations were few, and already there was the stench of death around them. Little wonder there was a great wariness when the doors were thrown open to blinding sunlight and orders were barked down upon them. Slow shuffling quickened at the crack of a whip and one by one the heavy collar around their necks were shackled to a body in front and behind until they were splintered into small, dazed groups.

They had landed on a beach without sand. There were small smooth rocks instead, something Noak had never encountered before. His attention drifted to the fleet of ships anchored off the coast. Others were being shackled into groups and sorted out in a first wave of activity.

Where they were headed, not even the goddess could know.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 10: Leannan Meets Jeanette

2302 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, dubcon (not explicitly described), abuse, choking, Google Translate

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~~~

Amos 6:4-5

You lie on beds adorned with ivory and lounge on your couches. You dine on choice lambs and fattened calves. You strum away on your harps like David and improvise on musical instruments.

~~~

Leannan didn’t see Phineas much for the next two days. The Council – minus the elusive fourth member – dined together, and Leannan joined them, eating fine meals of fish and potatoes with tart berries and cream for dessert. But beyond that, Phineas was off doing God-knows-what.

James visited Leannan once more, but seemed to lose his nerve before he could do anything, escaping with a lame excuse about ‘business to attend to.’

Leannan explored the Council building a bit. It was full of rooms, all connected by hallways, floored with time-worn linoleum. Some of the lesser-used rooms had sagging ceiling tiles, or were filled with little desks and chairs, stacked on top of each other in three-dimensional mazes of metal and plastic.

He stopped exploring after receiving one too many leering remarks from the guards dotted around the building. They weren’t allowed to touch him, by the Council’s decree, but that didn’t stop them from cornering and ogling him when they got the chance.

The only guard who offered a shred of kindness was the Captain, DuPont. He broke up one such gathering, snapping at his subordinates to get back to their posts, before looking Leannan up and down appraisingly. Leannan returned the look; DuPont was a barrel-chested man with dark skin and hair and a shadow of a beard, authoritative and burly.

“You good?” DuPont asked.

Leannan nodded quickly. “Yes, sir, thank you.”

DuPont smiled at him oddly, then reached out and ruffled Leannan’s hair.

“You let me know if they bother you again.”

~~~

What Leannan didn’t find while he was exploring was the fourth Councilman. He was close to cracking and asking someone who they were �� but then he met her.

It was evening, and Leannan was walking back to his room after a long outing to Donda Island’s market. He was provided a small allowance of bartering chips, and today he had spent it on perfumes and rouge. It had taken him all afternoon, as he had stopped to talk to every vendor and passer-by who would humor him. He now knew more about Donda Island and its holdings, its imports of textiles and its exports of berry wine and leather; the ever-shrinking fishing business, the struggling dairy farms, and peoples’ anxieties about the coming second summer, when unimaginable heat would descend upon them.

He’d also learned that their view of Phineas was less than favorable.

He was sorting through this information in his head, trying to come up with the best way to present his findings to Phineas, when a sound made him stop outside his bedroom door. Drifting from further down the hall was an unearthly humming. He recognized it immediately, and it sent a flutter through his stomach: an organ.

He’d always thought that ‘organ’ was an appropriate title; the one back in Iowa City had loomed like a great living creature, breathing and singing through what seemed like hundreds of throats and mouths. Leannan had always stared up at it in awe, hardly able to keep singing along himself.

He stood frozen for moment before quickly entering his room and leaving his purchases on the vanity, then returning to the hallway to follow the noise. It lead him along the corridor, one silent step in front of the next, until he determined the door it was emanating from. He was loathe to interrupt the music, but he had to know. He knocked.

The drone stopped, and a woman’s voice called from beyond.

“Come in!”

Leannan opened the door, and stepped into a room far finer than his. The bed was larger, and had a grand canopy of fringed damask, and there were a pair of armchairs and a teatable, in addition to a wardrobe. There was no vanity, but instead two – two! – full length mirrors in one corner. There was a distinct smell; some sort of pine resin smoldered in a dish on the teatable, filling the room with pungent smoke. The main point of interest, however, was a very thin and wan woman sitting in the bed, propped up by countless pillows. In her lap was a long, flat, black box, with a row of black and white keys, just like an organ. It had blinking lights, and wires ran out of it to some sort of contraption sitting in a fading sunbeam on the floor. Electronics, Leannan identified, though he didn’t know much about the stuff.

The woman was staring at him, the bags under her eyes doing little to weaken her icy, piercing gaze.

“You must be the holy concubine,” she intoned.

“Yes, madam,” he replied, offering a little bow.

“I’m Jeanette Faverolle. The missing Council member.” A hint of bitterness tinged her voice. “But you’re not here to listen to me complain. You came for the music, yes?”

“Yes, madam,” he echoed.

“Please,” she waved a hand, “Call me Jeanette.”

“Yes, Jeanette.”

“Sit. I will play for you.”

Leannan perched in one of the armchairs, and Jeanette set her fingers to the keys. Leannan couldn’t help but be a little disappointed; what had sounded so unmistakably like his long-lost home through the muffler of doors and walls sounded tinny and small coming directly out of the electronic keyboard. But it was still the sound of an organ, and it was still music, of a sort; Jeanette moved across the keys at random, slowly drawing out one chord before moving seamlessly to the next, building an eerie soundscape. Leannan closed his eyes and leaned forward, as if he could submerge himself in the noise.

Leannan wasn’t sure for how long he sat and listened, only that he had relaxed fully into the chair, sprawled in it most unbecomingly and completely at peace, when Jeanette quite suddenly lifted her hands from the keys and plunged the room into silence.

Leannan sat up quickly, straightening his shirt. Jeanette was staring him down. The evening light from the windows had faded into darkness, and the room was lit only by a single lantern at Jeanette’s bedside, which cast eerie shadows over her gaunt face.

“You belong to the Council as a whole, yes?” she asked.

“Yes, Jeanette.”

“Therefore I am entitled to a quarter of your time, yes?”

“Yes, Jeanette.”

She nodded brusquely. “Return to me tomorrow, after lunch.”

“Yes, Jeanette.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Jeanette.” Leannan stood, hesitated, then inclined his head to her. “Thank you.”

Her lips pursed, and her eyebrows pinched.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Leannan nodded again, and quietly left.

He walked slowly back down the hallway, dying of curiosity. What ailed the Councilwoman? Why was she never at any of the meetings or dinners? Why had Brochard and James never mentioned her?

His thoughts were cut short by Phineas, fast approaching. Leannan stopped walking and lifted a hand to wave, but Phineas reached him in a rush, catching his waist and fisting a hand in his hair.

“Hej, stranger,” they purred, and kissed him.

Leannan wondered why Phineas was suddenly so touchy after two days of ignoring him, but Phineas explained.

“I shot a deer,” they murmured, nipping at Leannan’s ear.

“Congratulations,” Leannan giggled.

“Come with me.” Phineas practically dragged Leannan to their room, and Leannan spent the next twenty minutes with his head between Phineas’ legs. Afterwards, Leannan crawled up to lie next to Phineas and tried to tell them about what he had learned at the market, but Phineas shoved him off the bed.

“Shoo!” they said unambiguously.

Leannan tried not to be disappointed. Maybe Phineas had more important things to do – but Leannan still felt that the information he’d gathered was valuable. Regardless, he left, returning to his own room – and bumped right into James, who was leaving it.

“My apologies, Master James!” Leannan said immediately.

“Leannan – I was looking for you, I…” James grabbed Leannan’s upper arm and pulled him further into the room, closing the door. He had a wild look in his eye that set Leannan on edge. “I was looking for you, just – hold still…”

James’ hands closed around Leannan’s throat and squeezed.

Leannan had no warning, no time to prepare, and was hit with a jolt of genuine fear. James was supposed to be timid, he was supposed to be all bark and no bite… and yet. Leannan grabbed the Councilman’s wrists and tried to speak, but James was already crushing his throat closed, and it hurt. Horrible little squeaks and croaks were all that could escape Leannan’s mouth. James’ jaw clenched and his eyes were crazed and his arms shook as he clutched Leannan’s neck as tightly as he could. Leannan felt his head growing hot with trapped blood, and knew his face was turning red. Ordinarily when being hurt unexpectedly he would take in air, calm himself, and breath through it, but that wasn’t possible now. His vision started to go gray and fuzzy, and he found himself struggling instinctually. His feet dug into the floor, his shoulders twisted, and his hands yanked on James’ arms. It all only made James grip him tighter, growling something threatening in French. Finally, a coherent thought made its way through Leannan’s adrenaline-soaked and oxygen-deprived brain and he forced his body to fall slack, and rolled his eyes up into his head as if he were passing out. At this, James cursed and threw him to the floor, where Leannan spasmed and sucked in a painful breath through his battered throat. He wheezed helplessly as James stood over him, panting.

“Fucking peasants!” James shouted, “Think they’re above it all! Think they’re better than me?” He lifted his foot back to kick Leannan, tapped it to the ground as he hesitated, then shot it home into Leannan’s gut with a shout of rage. Leannan couldn’t stop the ragged cry that was forced out of him, and he curled up into a ball.

James began to pace, rambling in French.

“Ils demandent toujours ce qu'ils ne peuvent pas avoir!” He punctuated his last word with a second kick, this time to Leannan’s shin. Leannan flinched and whimpered, still disoriented. He didn’t have a plan. He couldn’t handle this.

“Taxes this, taxes that, maybe if you worked a little harder!” James circled around and kicked Leannan in the back, just below his ribs. Tears sprang to Leannan’s eyes, and he urged them on, sobbing.

“Master James!” he wheezed, “Please...”

“Oh, what, are you going to ask for something you don’t deserve too?” He loomed over Leannan, chest heaving; but then he seemed to deflate a bit as he took in Leannan’s pitiful figure on the floor.

“I suppose you do deserve some thanks. That was very… refreshing.” James rolled his shoulders, and his hand drifted to his belt. “Very… helpful.” He contemplated the thought a moment longer before stepping over Leannan and walking to the door.

“I’ll send someone to check on you,” he said, almost sounding regretful, and left.

Leannan rolled slowly onto his back, allowing himself to cry for real. He hadn’t liked that. Not at all. He kept misjudging James, and getting caught off-guard. He lifted a hand and pressed probing fingers to his throat. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know he wore a necklace of handprints. He sat up, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wanted to go back to Phineas – but he knew Phineas wouldn’t be interested in his whining.

He had to do his duty. He had to endure.

He brushed the tears off his face and forced on a smile, but it only lasted a few seconds before he sobbed again. He didn’t want to have to endure anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to God, “I’ll be okay in a minute, I swear, I’m sorry. I can do it, just give me a minute!”

He pulled up his knees and hugged them to his chest, hyperventilating slightly as he looked around. His room – the room that was supposed to be all his – didn’t feel safe anymore. He hadn’t even realized that he’d felt safe there in the first place until it was taken away. It felt wrong, now. It felt… It felt a way he couldn’t name. It felt bad, that was all he knew.

So he sat, and cried, and slowly calmed down. He was just starting to struggle to his feet, wincing as muscles flexed under new bruises, when someone knocked on the door. He wiped his hands across his face and straightened his clothes before going to answer it.

It was the pale, frizzy-haired woman, bearing a tray with a steaming earthenware mug on it.

“Yes?” Leannan said, then balked; his own voice shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did, coming out painfully hoarse and low.

“Councilman Faverolle sent you some honeyed tea, monsiuer,” the woman explained, her eyes running up and down Leannan’s figure. Not in the way people usually looked at him, though. Instead of lustful, she looked concerned; her eyes flitted particularly around his neck. She had a sharp, nervous gaze, like a small bird.

“Oh!” Leannan spoke through the pain, “How thoughtful of him!” He lifted the mug from the tray. “Thank you, madam…?”

She tucked the tray under her arm, tilting her head a little funny at being addressed with madam. “Just Maeve.”

“Thank you, Maeve,” Leannan rasped, smiling as best he could, “You should call me Leannan, then.”

She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded.

“You’re very welcome, Leannan. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Once she was gone, Leannan walked to his bed, nearly limping from the pain in his lower back. He set the tea down on his bedside table and stripped, dropping his clothes carelessly to the floor before crawling into bed. He took up the tea and hunched over it, enjoying the warmth despite the summer night.

He was being rewarded. He could endure.

~~~

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