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fawnnlvr · 2 months ago

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a very purple beginning | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x purplehaired!reader

summary: in which a new agent joins the bau as their secretary and her dark purple hair and cold, reserved nature has piqued the interest of the bau, especially a special doctor.

word count: 2.1k (originally more but i decided to turn this into a series ♥︎)

masterlist

author's note: i am in love with this series i created in my head and in my notes app. reader is inspired by captain holt from brooklyn 99 bc i believe he is iconic. maybe adoptive daughter. anyways, hope you enjoy since i am making more parts ♥︎

"Is she even human?" Emily Prentiss asked, her mouth slightly parted in awe as her eyes followed your figure.

Her fellow colleagues shared the same expression as their eyes followed your every move. The way you walked, the way you spoke, the way you fixed a stray strand of your hair that was blocking your vision— it all seemed too perfect.

"It's like watching a robot in the body of a model." Morgan added as he watched you speak to Hotch regarding the matters in the open file the two of you were reading.

Spencer Reid stayed quiet in his seat, listening to the murmurs around him as he too found it hard to tear his eyes away from the new addition to the team. You had joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit only eight days ago as a secretary once their previous communication liason had left. Within those eight days, you were already the talk of the office with many claiming you as their so called 'work crush' and 'hopefully future work wife'. However, most of those dreams quickly fell through when people interacted with you and realized your beauty my only be for looking and not interacting with.

Although your job requires you to work closely with the team, Spencer and you have only interacted three times within that time frame.

The first was when Hotch had introduced you to everybody and Spencer gave you a nervous smile to which you replied back with the same stone expression on your face. The second time was when he apologized for getting in your way when you nearly bumped into him while turning the corner. You simply nodded your head before continuing your stride. The third and hopefully not final time was when you asked him a question about his germaphobia and how you could accommodate him while planning for the trips. You called him into the office that day and he had stammered as he told you that what you were currently doing was fine. Your eyes simply narrowed at his anxious figure before releasing him from your office.

"What hair dye do you think she uses because it hasn't faded not once and that is one of the hardest colors to maintain?" Penelope added, eyebrows furrowed as she knew the question would bug her until she asked. However, even the chirpy, extroverted Penelope could sometimes find certain people a bit scary. Hotch being one for the first few weeks she worked with him, and you being second.

"I know right? It's the perfect dark plum purple shade." Emily commented, shifting her weight to the other side as her eyes trailed from the roots of your hairs to the ends. Then, her dark brown eyes glanced to Spencer, "Hey Reid, your shirt is the same color as her hair. You're matching."

All three agents turned to Spencer who was sitting at his desk, just four feet away. He quickly averted his eyes from you and looked at them. "What's that?"

"Looks like he was staring at Miss Perfect too. I'm sure he loves her hair since it's basically his favorite color." Morgan teased, the same playful smile on his face that appeared whenever he mentions a potential romantic partners for the young prodigy of the FBI.

"I-It's a nice color. I wear it all the time and it's nice to see others appreciate it as well. There was a poll conducted in California that stated that purple was one of the most underappreciated colors when it came to choosing a favorite." Spencer rambled, fidgeting with his fingers.

Your purple hair was really what caught his attention in the beginning. It was this deep, rich shade of purple, the same shade that was littered in the forms of small trinkets or blankets in his home. The same shade that he thought looked the best on him when he looked into the mirror, making him more confident, so he bought more clothing in that shade. The same color that gave him this sense of comfort, as if when he looked at it, he was being embraced by a cold warmth. So in conclusion, he very much did love your hair simply because he already loved the color. At least, that is what he told himself to justify the unusual amounts of time he found his eyes wandering towards you.

"Yeah, cherry red is very in right now so I can't blame them." Penelope agreed.

"She seems so cool. Has anyone here actually spoken to her though?" Emily looked around to see if anyone could give her an answer she wanted to hear about the mysterious enigma that is you.

Morgan stated his experience first, "At the coffee bar, I once told her how I thought it was such a good morning and she told me it was expected to rain at noon. Then she walked off with her coffee."

They looked at Penelope next. "Well, I tried to talk to her— I really did. I was about to knock on her office door then I noticed the door was a tad bit open and I could hear her conversation on the phone. She was being really mean to the guy on the other side of the line so I got scared. Plus, she has that same stone cold look Hotch gives us when we turn in our paperwork late."

"So horror stories so far." the Prentiss girl winced at the thought that the new girl didn't have the warmest reputation.

"I don't think I have ever seen her smile." Rossi stated, joining the conversation and scaring the living life out of Morgan who didn't hear or sense him coming, "Sorry Morgan. Anyways, she is probably the same age as Spencer yet has the attitude of commander chief Hotch. Even I feel scared to talk to her."

"Great. Even the man with the most experience in dealing with psychopath serial killers hasn't even talked to her." Emily sighed as she crossed her arms. Rossi opened his mouth to testify against that statement since he did try to speak to you, but the original story was far too embarassing and he would rather keep that to himself.

"Didn't she call Reid up to her office a few days ago?" Rossi asked and everybody turned to Reid who was trying to finish writing his paperwork so he isn't subjected to the chilling stare of Hotch.

He looked towards them, putting down his pen, "She asked me if there was anything she could do to accommodate my germaphobia while traveling or in general."

The entire group swiftly moved as a whole towards Spencer's desk to interrogate him.

"How did she say it? Was she mean?" Penelope asked.

"Did a crow fly by the window?" Morgan laughed.

"Did she run out of battery and you had to change out her motherboard?" Rossi added, chuckling a little as well.

"No to Morgan and Rossi— Rossi especially since that isn't even technically correct— but she was nice." They looked at him weirdly before he added, "I guess?"

"Nice? You guess? Spencer we need every single detail. How exactly did she say it? What words did she use? I need to now the connotations of her words and how she structured it." The tech analysis was known for making friends with everybody under the roof of Quantico. She couldn't let her streak be broken because she was too scared. She needed to prepare herself before going into war.

"That was basically it. There was nothing too it. She wasn't mean or rude, she just asked a simple question as to how she can make me feel more comfortable— so in my opinion, she was nice." He defended your honor in a way, making it known that you were not a mean person at all.

You had went out of your way in order to ask him how you can improve his comfortability. No one had ever asked him that or acknowledged his needs that may have seemed simple and little to those on the outside, but huge to him. It was an aspect in his life that constantly controlled his every action and it was nice to know that somebody cared enough to help him after reading it in his case file.

"Maybe she's one of those cold people on the outside but a secret sweetheart." Emily suggested and Penelope gasped as if she just realized life-changing information.

"Oh my goodness, if that's true and I have been avoiding her this entire time— I am a terrible person. I, Penelope Garcia, had judged a person by their cover. I need to make it up to her. I need to —"

"She's coming." Spencer warned. This was probably the only time he thanked his eyes' little habit of trying to find you wherever you were in the room because he wouldn't want you to find out they were all huddled together to discuss what type of person you were.

The group all composed themselves as they directed their attention to you and Hotch making your ways to the group. Wow, it was like watching a father and daughter duo. The sharp gazes and the tight lines of the lips that never threatened to curl.

Hotch looked down towards you and you caught his eye before stepping forward, barely an inch. Almost as if you did not want to, but Hotch previously instructed you to do so.

"We have a case." you stated and Hotch nodded from behind your figure. Your voice was quiet yet monotone as you faced the group of people.

"Briefing room in ten. [Surname] will present the case. Garcia, assist her."

"Yes sir." Garcia immediately stepped forward as you took a step back, almost taken aback by her enthusiasm to be near you, an act that only Spencer seemed to notice as Garcia briskly walked to take a place by your side.

You stiffly walked by Penelope's side, almost as if the dark confidence you held in your walk was shaken by the mere presence of a bright individual beside you.

Spencer Reid arrived in the briefing room and sat in his usual seat. This was the first case you would be presenting and joining after Hotch decided that the first week of your job should be spent organizing the work left by the previous communication liason and getting a feel for the work.

Hotch gave you and Penelope a nod, signaling that it was time to start. The tech analysis had passed out files as you stood right beside the projector, prim and poised.

The briefing room was quiet, so quiet that Spencer was sure that you could hear his breathing pattern doing its best to return back to normal after pacing back and forth before he entered due to not wanting to be the first person in the room along with you and Penelope.

Your voice echoed through the room. It wasn't loud and projecting, nor was it soft and quiet, it was just right. Your spoke as if the entire report was memorized and rehearsed, definitely not giving you a chance to beat the robot allegations.

Your eyes really flickered off of either the projector or Hotch, but when it did, Spencer tried to offer a nice smile of support. Whenever he presented in front of large crowds, he was told to try and get a feeling for the crowd and so he thought you would appreciate knowing you were doing good.

Blink. You had blinked at him before averting your gaze someplace else and finishing the report. That was better than no reaction, he reasoned.

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch stated, gathering the files as he stood up and made his way out. Following closely behind him was you. The clacks of your high heels quietly echoed in the room as the rest of the agents watched as you walked out— more like strutted out.

The door had closed and the remaining agents had turned to Penelope to tell them all that happened while they were alone for approximately eight minutes and ten seconds.

"Oh my goodness. Once you get over the monotone stern voice, she really is nice. Her expression did not change once and she didn't smile, but I can see it in her eyes— I think she likes me." Penelope proudly proclaimed, her nose tilted up as she retold her accomplishment.

"Looks like she's not so scary after all." Rossi stated, content, now that he knows he can have a conversation with you without worrying that you will be mean. He once had to deal with a group of cool teenagers for a case back in the day and you reminded him of them. Somebody who can ruin his self esteem and confidence with a small snicker and comment.

"Slowly but surely, I think she'll open up." Derek stated.

Spencer looked down on his lap. That's what he's been trying to say.

#fawnnlvr writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff

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ceilidho · 6 months ago

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'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. Trouble Brewing masterlist

“Shit,” you huff, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest, annoyance bleeding into your words as your frustration finally comes to a boil.

“What’s th’ matter?” Roper, another rig worker, asks. He’s taken to sitting with you in the lounge whenever his breaks line up with yours, one of the few men to not treat you with barely concealed disdain. You can't deny that it's nice to have company.

“Nothing—I think I may have accidentally contaminated the samples. None of this looks right.”

By this, you mean the papers spread out on the coffee table in front of you—print-outs of the water sample analyses. You’ve been staring at them for far too long, eyes practically burning after your tenth consecutive read through.

Almost everything in the sample analysis looks off. The alkalinity, the pH, the temperature, the CO2 and H2S levels—even the microbiological parameters are far exceeded. At some point, you must have accidentally contaminated the samples; only in a worse case scenario, such as a massive oil leak, would you expect to see numbers like these, and you would know if that were the case. It would be immediately obvious not only by the distress spreading like a miasma through the rig, but simply by looking at the water crashing against the jacket legs beneath you.

There’s something else too. Something in the samples that you’ve never seen before—almost like a faint iridescence to the water, a shimmer so light that it’s almost not perceptible to your eye.

So it can’t be that. You must’ve done something wrong when collecting your samples from the discharge point. It’s frustrating to know that the work you’ve done so far has been basically for nothing, seeing as how you’ll have to do it all over again in order to get a fresh batch of samples, but you just remind yourself that these things happen. It could always be worse.

A reminder of that appears right before your eyes when a guy on the other side of the lounge opens his trap and says to Roper, “Ye hear about MacTavish?”

Your ears perk up. Roper must notice because he just grins. “Na—what happened?”

The other man whistles through his teeth. “‘Twas a shit storm. Heard about it from O’Connor.”

“Och, spit it out, will ye? Quit keeping us in suspense.”

“A’richt, just dinnae tell him ah tellt ye—‘ah swear he’ll take someone's head off at this rate.”

The men whisper and titter about it all afternoon—how MacTavish got dragged into the rig manager’s office and ripped into over some offshore antics (fightin’—near broke a guy’s jaw for mouthing off tae him, one crew member tells you surreptitiously, again reinforcing the gossiping hen opinion you’d already formed of them). You’re not exactly shocked by the news, but the quiet that comes over the rig in his absence is a bit jarring.

Coming across him in the aftermath of the incident is, however, far more shocking.

You see him first from across the mess scowling into his food, a dark cloud hanging over him. His usual roguish countenance is swapped for something more choleric, foul-tempered. It’s incongruous with the image you have of him in your head, the one that sees him as eternally cheery; cocksure and braggadocious.

Roper warns you in no uncertain terms to give Soap a wide berth if you happen to come across him.

You cock a brow at that. “You think he’d hurt someone?”

“Na, tis nae like that. It wasn’y his fault that someone else wanted tae have a pissing contest. The lad’s just got an ill temper is all. He’ll gallus aff eventually—juist best nae tae git in his way until then.”

No sense in trying to decipher what he means by that. You have a job to do anyway and the issue with your samples weighs far more heavily on your mind than Soap’s bad mood.

Still, you recognize it as a distant cause for concern. Every so often it dawns on you how far you are from civilization—out in the middle of the North sea, surrounded by nothing but waves and men with voracious appetites. You grit your teeth and bear a lot as it is; unsavory comments and blatant stares, the kind of thing that registers as an ever present, unsung threat that you are impelled to ignore lest it be mentioned. Lest it be given a name.

Soap’s bad mood might not be something you have to worry about, but still you acknowledge that you should probably keep your distance for the time being. At least until his pride is mended and he’s back to his old self.

These days, you’re never allowed what you want though.

You’re around the bend of a hallway when you hear him coming, his distinctive thick brogue snapping at another crew member. Though your heart immediately starts pounding against your chest, there’s nothing you can do; the corridor behind you is too long to run back down without being seen and there aren’t any rooms to sneak into and use as cover. All you can do is stand there with your heart in your throat as he gets closer and closer.

The sharp dogleg in the hall keeps him from seeing you until he’s already on you, nearly plowing into you before catching himself at the last minute, a big hand slamming against the wall beside you to stop him mid-step. You flinch despite anticipating him.

“Jesus, bonnie, I didn’y see ye there. Make a bit o’ noise or somethin’,” Soap says, more brusque than he’s ever spoken to you before.

“Sorry,” you mumble, attempting to sidestep him.

“Ach, wait, ‘ah dinnae mean tae snap. Where are ye off tae?” he asks, stepping with you to the right so that you can’t pass around him. He’s quick enough that you walk straight into him, crushing your nose against his chest and wincing when you take a step back and wriggle it out. A hand clamps down on your shoulder to keep you from scurrying off any farther.

“Um…I have some things to do.”

“Things?” he repeats, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I have work. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“Ah’m no’ an animal, bonnie; ye dinnae have to run off jus’ because ah’m in a mood.”

“I’m not running off—I really do have work to do, Soap. That’s why I’m here, remember?” You realize that he must like it when you get snippy with him because the second you do, his lips stretch into a grin, blue eyes glinting.

“Want some help?” he asks.

“Um…”

Irritation clouds his expression. “Ah’m no’ gonna flip out if that’s what yer worried about. That shit with Rennick had nothing tae do with my work.”

That shifts the guilt around in you and gives it a bigger hole to wedge itself in. “…Sure. I guess I could use a hand.”

“Now, ye aren't just asking tae make me feel better, are ye? ‘Cause ah’m a big boy; I willnae cry if ye let me down gently.”

“Oh my god, Soap, do you want to help me or not?” you snap.

His grin widens, a new little mischievous furl to it. “Well, ye dinnae have tae beg, bonnie. Ah’d be happy tae help ye out.”

Of course it was nothing but a ploy for him to rile you up and get you to be the one to ask for help.

Back to the discharge point to collect fresh water samples. Soap doesn’t stop talking the whole walk, the onslaught of questions about your personal life and his own life offshore enough to make your ears ring. No chance of peace and quiet—not with him around, anyway.

On your way up a flight of stairs, you peek back at him to find him climbing with his hands on both railings. You’re not sure if it’s to keep you from slipping away or to keep himself stable, but if you were a bettor, you know which you’d pick.

Soap grins toothily up at you. You roll your eyes in response and turn back around, climbing up the last few steps. The ocean’s ever tempestuous winds howl in the distance.

For all your initial reluctance to let him help you, he proves to be a pretty useful assistant, helping you flush the sample point beforehand and then holding your equipment as you carefully fill and cap each sample bottle.

He’s such a help in fact, that part of you feels a bit guilty for the way you treated him earlier. Like a ticking time bomb. Wouldn’t you also be upset after being told off by your boss? You have the luxury of not really reporting to anyone on the rig—so long as you send your boss daily updates on the progress of your work and follow safety and security regulations on the rig, you never worry about being reprimanded. Certainly not yelled at.

You’re also surrounded by strangers for the most part, which, while sometimes alienating, also means that you’re not particularly invested in what anyone has to say about you. These aren’t your coworkers. In a couple weeks’ time, you’ll be flown back to shore and you’ll never see any of them ever again.

The walk back to your room-cum-office is different. Soap follows behind you quietly for a change, your additional samples in hand, and only the sound of his steel-toed boots clanging against the floor remind you that he’s still with you. You didn’t think he had it in him to stay quiet for so long.

He follows in after you when you reach your room, not bothering to wait outside like anyone with common sense would. It would be more aggravating if he weren’t so handsome. It’s hard to look at him and hold on to any real anger though.

“I—uh—I’m sorry you had a rough day,” you finally manage to blurt out.

He must eye you dubiously because you can feel the weight of his gaze. Not like he doesn’t understand what you’re referring to, but more like he doesn’t quite trust your sincerity.

“Ah must’ve been bonny crabby for ye tae apologize for that asshole,” he teases. You can tell through the joke that even now his pride is a little stung that you brought it up at all.

If his temper weren’t so volatile, you might actually be tempted to spend more time with him. You have to shake that thought away as soon as it comes to you though; you won’t be on the rig for much longer anyway.

“What’d you do anyway?” you blurt out, immediately thinking better of your words when Soap’s face darkens, nostrils flaring the slightest bit. “Sorry, that was—don’t answer that.”

“Nah, it’s no’—” he pauses, sucking air in between his teeth. “It’s no’ a secret or anythin’. Got myself mixed up in some bad shit, but it’s over, ah swear. Told Rennick that it wasnae anythin’ tae worry about, but he gave me hell anyway.”

“He seems like a dick,” you say in consolation.

“Aye,” Soap laughs.

He waits until you’ve packed all your samples away before opening his mouth again.

“Ye ken what would really make me feel better, bonnie?”

You glance over at him suspiciously, bracing yourself for something crass. You can feel it brewing—the culmination of days worth of purred words and heady glances, his interest so blatant that ignoring it feels almost pointless. He lays it on thick enough that you’d have to be blind not to have picked up on it.

So, it catches you off guard when instead of making a licentious comment, he just sighs, “Ah could really use a hug.”

That’s—that’s a bit more reasonable than what you had anticipated. Surprising enough for you to lower your hackles and turn to face him.

He holds his arms out in invitation, face expectant. That nearly makes you cringe before you catch yourself. You’ve been caught in this trap before—your tentative kindness leveraged for physical affection; pushing your boundaries at the first sign of weakness, like waging a siege on you—and even though your teeth itch with the urge to snap at him, it just doesn’t feel worth it. Easier just to capitulate and give what he wants. Just this once.

Besides, it’s just a hug.

His arms fold around you the second you step into them, constricting around your waist like two steel bands holding you in place. He hugs tight too, not an inch of space between your bodies, your breasts flush with his chest. Toes practically scraping the ground, lifted up by the strength of his arms.

The blood rushes to your head. Weak kneed. It’s almost a blessing that Soap’s arms are holding you up. Every inch of your body feels electrified, nerves spitting hot fire; even your scalp tingles when he rests his chin on your crown. You don’t like to think about it—how little anyone touches you these days and how starved your body is for it. Even offshore, you haven’t dated in so long that it seems almost incomprehensible now that you’ve ever dated anyone before.

He groans into your hair, lost in his own head. One of his hands curves up and around your back until it cups over your shoulder, anchoring you even tighter to his chest. You can feel the bulge of every muscle, the tensile strength vibrating under his skin, and it’s only then that you realize that he’s shaking.

The other thing you can’t ignore is the weight of his dick pressing into you. Your eyes bulge when you realize you can feel it thicken with blood against your belly. Even through the material of his pants, you can tell that it’s big.

“Christ, bonnie,” Soap whines, pulling you somehow even tighter to him, nearly cutting off your breath. “Yer so fucking soft.”

“Soap—” you squeak. “Okay, I think that’s—I’ve—I’ve got work to do—”

You tense when his free hand drifts down your back and settles right over your ass.

“Soap—” you hiss, then yelp when his hand drops even more and his fingers into a soft, fleshy cheek and he grinds his hips into your belly. You’re not sure if he’s even aware of what he’s doing, his hug devolving into something coarse and almost sexual.

You reach a hand up to grab him by the jaw and push his head away, struggling feebly in his hold until his arms finally give a little and you’re able to wriggle out, scampering back until you’ve put some distance between the two of you.

When you meet Soap’s eyes, you have to fight the urge to flinch. It takes him a second to regain control of himself, slack-jawed and hungry-eyed until he blinks and it starts to melt away. His chest heaves with his ragged breath. He looks every bit like a man that just got kicked out of bed before finishing, dick still hard in his pants.

“Sorry, bonnie. Ah got a little carried away,” he says apologetically, eyes so round that they almost make him look puppyish.

“It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. You’re still shaky and your thighs are suspiciously damp and you’re fairly sure all the blood in your body has rushed to your face because your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but you also don’t want to acknowledge the obvious. The outline of his dick straining against his pant leg. The dark flush on his cheekbones and his glazed over eyes. The way you have to fight the urge not to stare at the fabric of his jumpsuit tight around his thighs and biceps.

“Ah’ll, uh…ah’ll see ye later then.” He takes a step back, then another, waiting maybe for you to say something. For you to tell him that it’s alright to stay.

You smile tightly instead, ignore the urge to call him back to you. Your smile only drops when he closes the door behind him.

There’s trouble brewing. You can feel it swelling up like a wave, ready to crash into you.

Under you, you can feel the rig shift with the water and in the distance, something howls.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #soap/reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

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not me doomposting about l*ona again

I pointed out in an older post that Leona seems to demonstrate a unique ability to unite others under a common cause. This is in spite of the lore stating that it's very difficult to get different kinds of beastmen to see eye-to-eye, so much so that Sunset Savanna's acting king, his older brother, has yet to really unify their people.

WELL.

***Spoilers for Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes below the cut!***

A central theme to Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes is figuring out what makes someone worthy of being "king". At the start, everyone is reminded of Jack Skellington's status as the "King of Halloween, which makes him the most important person in town. However, Leona's quick to point out that the title isn't what's important, but what one achieves is. He then expresses interest in what it is exactly that Jack Skellington does around here to earn his crown. His opinion of Jack isn’t that good; in the event story, Leona thinks Jack doesn’t pay attention and doubts that he can have deep thoughts. Jack describes his duties as making Halloween the scariest it can possibly be. He drives around in his buggy, walks his dog Zero through the local cemetery, studies and conducts experiments, and reviews the proposals from Halloween Town residents. An important part of his job is considering his people's ideas! But Leona thinks there could be a more efficient way to do this rather than having the king read the proposals one by one. We can see a divide between their ways of thinking; Jack is willing to hear individuals out whereas Leona is focused on efficiency. This is also reflected in how they assign tasks later in the vignettes. Jack has everyone going up one ladder to decorate, while Leona commands the witches to do this task, as its much faster for them to do on their brooms. I don't know if this was intentional, but the way Jack rules feels reminiscent to how Leona often describes his older brother, Farena/Falena. So often does Leona mention that Falena is too kind and cares too much for others, which impedes on the political and economic gains he could be making if he were just more focused on his goals. “[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom’s affairs–you know, his JOB–but nooo, he’s gotta be the caring big brother who’s nice to everybody." (If you want to read a more in-depth analysis of Falena vs Leona's priorities when it comes to ruling, please read this post.)

Leona claims that the qualifications for king around here are actually really simple--and yeah, maybe there's nothing more to his line than this, but considering that in his home country one's order of birth is also a strong determinant, a merit-based system like what's seen in Halloween Town probably is simpler to him. And that means it's his time to shine and be acknowledged when he wasn't successful at earning this recognition back home.

Now, what REALLY surprised me in these vignettes wasn't that Leona knows how to boss around his peers and put their strengths to use (for example, he tells Vil, who has an eye for detail, to look over the embroidery, and Idia, who is a science and math whiz, to handle difficult calculations). It's that Leona is also perfectly aware of the abilities of the Halloween Town residents--people he has only known for less than three days--and uses them and their skills well too. That's an insanely short amount of time to get to know an entire TOWN'S worth of people and what each of them are like... yet he just pulls it off effortlessly????? HUH... This earns him the praise of Dr. Finkelstein, the mayor, Jack, Sally, and Skully. Sally in particular highlights Leona's strengths very concisely, stating that he can accurately assess the situation and give appropriate directions on how to act in that situation. Skully adds that Leona technically doesn't move himself or do any of the dirty work, he's focused solely on giving orders. This makes him a "king" and a leader of equal standing as Jack Skellington. And then Skully--SKULLY, THE OBSESSED HALLOWEEN OTAKU THAT THINKS HALLOWEEN SHOULD BE A VERY SPECIFIC WAY--says that Halloween was made possible by not one, but two great kings this year. It just goes to show how much one can truly accomplish when not barred by a negative environment and a lack of social support.

One definition of "king" that is offered in these vignettes is "the one who can bring everyone together". That's certainly something that both Leona and Jack do, albeit in very different ways. But then, at the end of the Halloween Town segment of the vignettes, Leona acknowledges that "king" can be defined another way. He realizes that Jack is recognized as king not just because he's a leader, but because he's also needed and loved by the townspeople. This, too, is a "king". However, it seems that this is a definition that Leona somewhat looks down upon, as he basically apologizes to Jack for not thinking highly of him at first. Again, Leona prioritizes getting shit done, no matter what the cost of it may be--and even if it earns him the ire of others. This, as I said earlier, puts him in stark contrast to Jack, as well as his own older brother. But here and now, we have Leona finally seeing the strength that a different kind of ruling can have instead of always speaking so disparagingly about it. Even if it's just a little... it feels like he's growing and learning, doesn't it?

The vignettes end on flashing forward to Leona back at Savanaclaw dorm. A few of his freshmen students are goofing off right before magift/spelldrive practice is about to start. As soon as Leona shows up, the freshmen snap to attention and rush off to change for practice. Jack (Howl, not Skellington, lol) remarks that usually the other first years are so lazy, but their attitudes completely changed when their dorm leader appeared. Ruggie chimes in, saying that Leona keeps the entire dorm in line... THJBAEBVUFAEIYAFIOYBVADFILH ThEN HE CALLS THEIR KING THE BEST... AND JACK AGTREESS... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHUT THE FUCK UPAS ALREADY STOP POGINTONG OUT HE'S A AGOODFK leADER DFOR YOUE AEPEOPLE YADFJKHAFLIYVDGVYUADGVUEGAVN

In response to the praise, Leona says that simply scolding misbehaving students doesn't make you a king. If it were as simple as that, it would be a pretty cheap throne built only on flattery. The vignettes end with him telling everyone to move their asses to practice. lh WDBHFAIYOEAIYEIYF BUT TAHAT'S PRETY YMASSIVE FOR HS CHARACTER... These vignettes demonstrate that Leona's not fixated on the title of king, but what it means to truly "be" a king and leader. He doesn't value being called a "king" if he feels it's easily earned, he wants to prove himself worthy of it and earn that title through his talents. This all circles back to a thought I had a while ago: that what Leona is after isn't the literal seat of king, but all the things that come with it but was denied of in his childhood. Respect, admiration, recognition for his abilities.

And 💦 Leona doesn’t realize it yet (either that, or he’s in complete denial) but… He also fits that second definition of “king” 😭 He’s the type of person that gets things done (like what he believes should define a king) BUT GIS DORM MEMBERS ALL ALSO NEED AND LOVE HIM…

OOoogohoggoOGH... OTL I hate how well it comes together...

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animentality · 5 months ago

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I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

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munnmolads · 3 months ago

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Did Rafayel kill Raymond? Theory and Analysis

Raymond dies during Chapter 7 after suffering weird symptoms for several months. We know that Rafayel's painting was the reason for the symptoms, but did he really kill Raymond?

Spoilers for the entire game's story as I refer to several parts of the lore relating to Rafayel and Raymond.

Raymond's case is the first mission that our MC gets as a deepspace hunter. I did cover some details of his death in my Rafayel's bounty theory, but I did take more like a stance assuming Rafayel didn't kill Raymond - atleast, if the bounty was related to Raymond. But now I want to explore the entirety for Raymond's case and if Rafayel truly killed him or not, without considering the bounty on his head.

The commission itself takes place in Chapter 2, but Raymond's condition started half a month ago which we can assume happened before the main story actually starts. I'll make summaries of the important stuff relating to Raymond and his death, and then ponder some common questions about all of this.

Summary of what happened during Chapter 2

MC and Zayne arrive to Raymond's house, the founder of Xander Sciences. Zayne to conduct basic health examination and MC to inspect the house for wanderers. Raymond tries to recruit Zayne to Xander Sciences, and boasts about the benefits they have. He finally tries to provoke Zayne to reconsider by mentioning him not being curious how Raymond hasn't died yet.

After Zayne has done his job, a wanderer appears to Raymond's collection room and MC and Zayne defeat it. MC can't shake a suspicious feeling about the painting in the room, and when she resonates with it, she sees a peculiar illusion. She takes the painting back to Hunter's Association HQ for examination and finds out Rafayel has painted the painting.

Aside from what we know from the meeting itself, Thomas gave this description when Raymond bought the painting, and this in-game article "Stendhal syndrome? Mental health issues caused by wanderers? Or a haunted painting??" in more detail about his condition. You can share that article to Rafayel to possibility to ask about his blood, but he dodges the question.

Confronting Rafayel in his home, he tries to slither away from the allegiations that he would be resposible for the wanderer, and then "curiously" tries to infuse a drop of his blood to the coral stone he used for the paintings. This causes a wanderer to show up, and after coercing MC to accept a position as his bodyguard, Rafayel gives the coral stone to MC.

Summary of what happens in Chapter 7 and before it

During Chapter 7 reporter Joe is trying to get a scoop out of Rafayel while stalking him and MC, and once he is caught, he spills the beans and tells Raymond is dead. Joe tells that he was found drowned in his bathtub, rumors saying he had bunch of fish-scale cuts in his skin. Police had searched his home, and found nothing, no traces of other people entering the room. The only thing that was remarkable was that the painting Rafayel had painted had vanished from his collection and because of Raymond's reputation, police is trying to cover the case up quickly.

After Joe had told his piece, Rafayel threatened him to tell his workplace about his stalking behavior and cancelling his exclusive column interview, which could cause Joe losing his job. Rafayel "graciously" then hired Joe to find out about who is trying to cover up Raymond's death.

At this point it has been over 7 months that he has been suffering these symptoms if we consider that Zayne mentions in Chapter 5 it has been 6 months since Grandma died in Chapter 4. The story so far doesn't really confirm or deny that Raymond was in that state all the time, but we can assume he was.

Aftermath from his death

In Bouquet's and Dirges, Rafayel attends to his aunt's, Talia's wedding and tells the news of Raymond being dead. Talia sighs in relief and says at least they can rest for a while. Later Rafayel attends to Raymond's funeral in his home, ignoring the nasty looks from everyone else and bringing a bright bouquet of flowers symbolising "freedom, rebirth and happiness". Talia is also attending the funeral but assumably didn't arrive there with Rafayel and she sings a dirge - not to Raymond, but someone else.

Raymond's mother loses her composure, and starts causing a scene, calling Rafayel a murderer and how it was time for Raymond's rebirth. Rafayel once again ignores the looks from other people and leaves the funeral.

In the end of Zayne's story branch we learn that since of Raymond's death, Xander Sciences gets acquired by Ever because they were the biggest shareholder for his company.

Rafayel's motives to torture and possible to kill Raymond

It's undeniable that Rafayel is behind Raymond's condition from the start - even in Addictive pain, it's stated that Rafayel started experimenting with mixing his blood into pigments back during his professor days. His intention was to get the painting to a renowned collector - it could be that his target was Raymond for a long time until he actually managed to put his plan into fruition.

We know from Micro Universe and Siren's Song that Lemurians have been experimented on for their unique abilities and blood. These experiments have been really painful for Lemurians and possibly have forced them to scatter around away from their home. Rafayel having the responsibility to his people is trying to protect them and secure their home from invaders exploiting them so they can return home.

While it's not directly said who is in the immediate responsibility doing the research since it could be either Gaia Research Center or Xander Sciences, but both of these institutes are funded heavily by Ever. In Final Farewell Abyssal Chaos commission we can see Ever logos plastered on the walls during the puzzles and it's referenced in the commission story itself that the glass cylinder in the sanatorium is remarkably similar to one in Raymond's house. Gaia Research center is mentioned in Micro Universe Chapter 1, where Michael researches LCMECs (Lemurian Cardiac Microvascular Endothelial Cells, mentioned in Chapter 5). While Xander Sciences isn't directly mentioned in relation to the experiments made on Lemurians, but Xander Sciences is founded by Raymond and he has the Lemurian skeleton in his house. It's very possible both institutes work under Ever to do research on Lemurians.

Why Raymond and MC were the only ones who could see the illusion?

Assumably Raymond has made experiments with Lemurian's cells/blood for himself - this could be why his vital signs show improvement and the monitors show his age far younger than he actually is. This is most likely related to Lemurians living for a very long time - MC's note about Talia remarks her being Rafayel's aunt but looking like her age.

It could be that the coral stones work as a hallucinogenic for Lemurians and that feature has transferred to Raymond with him having Lemurian cells in him now. This is probably why he (and partially MC) was so drawn to the painting so strongly.

As for MC, I feel Rafayel never meant her to see the illusion, but understood why she saw it. She saw it because she tried to resonate with it, which Rafayel seems to understand in Chapter 7. With her Evol, she can match her frequency with other people and objects to enchance their abilities. I think her matching the frquency to the coral stone let her see the illusion.

How does the painting work and what happened to it?

I have been thinking about the painting and how it worked. We know that Rafayel used his blood in addition to the painting from Addictive Pain and the coral stone from the main story. We see repeatedly that Rafayel's blood attracts wanderers - first in Chapter 2 in his home when he purposefully cuts his finger to "test the coral stone", and the second time in Chapter 7 when Deluge Wyrmlord attacks MC and Rafayel after a cat scratches him. There is also a phone call "Sense of Security" at affinity level 127 which alludes that Rafayel purposefully summoned low-level wanderers near his home to invite MC over, which could be that he used his blood for that.

Rafayel explains during Chapter 7 that the coral stones when they are ground into a pigment can make strong illusions which created by the artist. The coral stones also have ability to cause metaflux fluctuations, and MC managed to create a protofield by resonating with Rafayel's sample later in Chapter 7.

I think Rafayel's original intent with the painting was to summon a Wanderer in to Raymond's collection room - he could have died to the wanderer in Chapter 2 if it wasn't for MC and Zayne stopping it. The cuts in the skin could have caused the fresh blood to get a contact to the coral stone which would have summoned the wanderer. It could be possible that Zayne did draw a bit of blood from Raymond during the examination, and after Zayne leaving, Raymond probably could have touched the painting with the fresh wound, causing the wanderer to appear. Atleast, that's my only hypothesis for now.

It's good to note that during Chapter 2 MC did send the painting to the Hunter's Association for investigation, but assumably it was returned back to Raymond once they had finished the investigation. During Chapter 7 the journalist Joe mentions the painting vanished from Raymond's collection.

Honestly, I think it's most likely stolen. It could be possible the painting had been destroyed by accident or on purpose before Raymond died, but in addition to my ramblings in the Bounty post. I think the painting could be very important later on the story. It's unlikely that it got destroyed and not leave any traces behind from that.

Possible causes for Raymond's death

We know that Raymond was drowned in his bathtub. It was also rumored that he had cuts in his arms and legs, like his skin looked bunch of fish scales. It sounds a bit too specific to be completely made up, but it could be possible. I'll treat this information as if it was true. (TW: talking about the cuts in more detail)

The cuts on Raymond's skin could be a form of self-harm caused from his madness, and eventually collapsed into the bathtub from the blood loss. It could be that the illusion Rafayel created in the painting eventually made him go insane enough to do it. It also could be that there was a another wanderer in the painting who caused the cuts, but I doubt it.

I was also thinking maybe Raymond was partially turning into a Lemurian because of him getting too much treatment with Lemurian cells. This could be why he was in a battub and had the cuts that looked like fish scales - maybe he was forming actual scales on his skin. Him being a human most likely would mean that his body couldn't take the transformation and he died because of that. This could be also why Ever would have more reason to cover up the death - they couldn't let anyone know that their experiments are going this wrong as well as benefitting his death by acquiring Xander Sciences.

These again sound reasons that excuse that Rafayel didn't kill Raymond - it's because I don't really believe that Rafayel would have gone in person to his home and kill him. In addition that the surveillance in Raymond's home didn't detect anything, but also, Raymond dying could be worse outcome for Rafayel than keeping him alive. That gave Ever free reign over Xander Sciences, and also put all eyes on Rafayel with everyone suspecting he murdered Raymond. Of course it could be that hindsight is 20/20 and it could be he didn't see all that coming. He allures in Bouguets and Dirges that this isn't over yet.

Rafayel definitely isn't innocent in all this and he would be vengeful and resourceful enough to kill Raymond. And seemingly the initial way of luring a wanderer into his home seems more his way of killing someone - indirect and he could claim not being any of part of it. If he meant to kill him. Similarly in Siren's song when he kills Mr. Fallon, he kills him with a song - but who would actually believe people who think he is a siren?

I'm really stumped how he would be able to kill Raymond without being seen/heard at all by the surveillance. Not to mention the painting - why he would take the painting back or get rid of it? Or why he would demand Joe to find out who is trying to cover up Raymond's death? Or why he would wait for 7 months to "finish the job"?

Who would be the murderer if not Rafayel?

I did cover this topic on the bounty post and earlier in this post so I won't be repeating myself too much here. My personal headcanon for now goes to that Raymond died because of he was slowly turning into a lemurian, his body couldn't take it, collapsed into the bathtub from blood loss and eventually drowned.

I also mentioned that the painting was likely stolen and it could be important later on the story. If it was stolen, I am kind of hoping it could have been Sylus and he would have also been behind of killing Raymond as well. I feel that Raymond's death had couple important story catches for Rafayel, so I feel it could be that the painting itself was the creater motive in his death. Though I have to admit that I love juicy drama and I would be so ready to get some popcorn and see some sexy enemy banter between Sylus and Rafayel.

We can't also ignore Ever's involvement. Ever has been the biggest beneficiary from Raymond's death - they acquired his company and getting free reign on it, meaning they have more power over that area than before. The painting is most likely a curioisity as well to them, and they would have a perfect scapegoat for the murder as well. They want the investigation to be over as soon as possible - and have the resources to do so.

All in all, I feel Raymond did pick a wrong Lemurian to make enemies with. While I don't feel like Rafayel was the one doing the killing blow, he definitely wanted to incacipate Raymond for a long time, probably just for the revenge and seeing MC again. It was a win-win situation for him.

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel #lads theories

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literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago

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Writing Notes: Dramaturgy

Dramaturgy - the study and practice of using dramatic composition to represent a scene on stage in performances, world-building, and historical contexts.

Dramaturgs have an interdisciplinary job in which they help open up and clarify the world of a production from different perspectives:

Study dramatic productions: Production dramaturgs study dramatic productions such as musicals, operas, and plays to represent and contextualize the given story in a way that makes historical and dramatic sense. A dramaturg has extensive theater history knowledge and experience building narrative structures and analyzing dramatic literature.

Perform script analysis: Dramaturgs can provide key script analysis for playwrights, musical theater writers, producers, and directors to help identify the most (and least) exciting parts of the narrative. They also suggest ways to improve the structure, clarify the timeline or setting of a piece, and help logically develop the story.

Conduct research: An expert’s dramaturgical analysis may also include research for directors, production teams, or costume designers for historical accuracy, making sure that details such as language, clothing, or behavior accurately match the specific period.

Theory of Dramaturgy

Sociologist Erving Goffman developed a sociological theory applying dramaturgy as a theatrical metaphor for human beings in the world.

Human behavior: Goffman’s sociological, dramaturgical approach likens human behavior in real life to a continuous play, and every person is an actor. Goffman first introduced his dramaturgical theory in his 1959 text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.

Symbolic interactionism: Goffman posits that you are set on a stage from the day you are born and that your symbolic interactions with other people (and vice versa) determine your roles—who you are and how you behave. Humans use impression management to attempt to control how they are seen and regarded through appearances, manners of interacting, and behavior.

Front stage vs. backstage: Goffman’s theory of dramaturgy divides human life into front stage and backstage activity. The front stage is where you live out your normal, public life—working at your job, going to dinner, and aspects of social life. The backstage, or off stage, is the private area where you can be your true self without managing others’ impressions or expectations. The backstage is where you practice your future performances on the front stage for all to see and work to refine others’ perceptions of you.

Examples of Dramaturgy

Dramaturgic interactions unfold both in the entertainment world and in everyday life. Here are some examples of dramaturgy that you might see in the real world, in which the same people inhabit different roles or behaviors in related situations.

In the classroom: A professor giving a lecture to dozens of students is giving a front-stage dramaturgical performance. They will likely present themselves in professional attire to give the appearance of a qualified, trustworthy individual. The professor creates their lesson plan and prepares their lecture when they are backstage, in the privacy of their own office, or wearing pajamas at home.

During an interview: A person interviewing for a job will use the backstage to prepare for their interaction with the hiring manager. They may rehearse practice answers, what not to say, or work on their anxious behaviors to influence a desired impression. Their front-stage behavior will be markedly different from their rehearsed backstage practice to inform how the hiring manager perceives them, which may leave a better impression.

While babysitting: A babysitter may dress casually and behave more childishly to make the child they are supervising feel more comfortable. The adults who babysit children may not play with toy trains or dolls in their private life, but they will pretend like they do to control the child’s impression of them and create a pleasant social interaction.

During athletic competitions: Athletes may have a perfectly confident front-stage persona, making the audience feel like they are effortlessly defying gravity. However, they may be anxious backstage, repeatedly going over their moves and mantras to put on the best performance.

The etymology of “dramaturgy” comes from the Greek word “dramatourgía,” meaning “action of a play.”

Theater historians believe that the philosopher and scholar Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was the first dramaturg: The Enlightenment-era writer first used the term in the Hamburgische Dramaturgie (“The Hamburg Dramaturgy”), a series of essays he wrote on dramatic theory in the 1760s.

In a work of drama, film, and storytelling, dramaturgs research the given period of a story, who its players would have been, and the social climate of the time. This historical context strengthens a play’s development, the actor’s relationship with the text, and its relationship with the audience.

Dramaturgy is an in-depth study of the work that playwrights, screenwriters, and directors create. Writers and directors may take on the role of the dramaturg themselves if they possess enough know-how and experience. The social sciences also apply a sociological perspective to dramaturgy, likening human interaction in everyday life to theatrical performance.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#dramaturgy #theatre #writing notes #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #light academia #writing resources

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defectivevillain · 3 months ago

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to death and back

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (ambiguous)

the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “You’ll die here,” Dr. Lecter whispers, a vicious glee in his voice. The space around you suddenly bleeds with bright color. You blink, a headache forming as you try to process what’s going on. “What?” you ask, staring at Dr. Lecter with wide eyes. There’s a twisted smile on his face and blood running down his teeth and dripping past his jaw. You inhale sharply and you’re suddenly slammed back into reality. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, blinking at you with concern.

word count: 4.4k | ao3 version | mortuary assistant playlist

warnings: spoilers to The Mortuary Assistant; canon-typical violence, horror, gore & demonic elements

You first meet Hannibal Lecter in a university classroom. You don’t feel much for him at the time, other than slight amusement at the way some of your classmates seem to be practically drooling over him. It’s initially strange, you think, for such an objectively attractive guy to be teaching mortuary science. He looks more like a wealthy businessman, if anything.

But it’s soon evident that Dr. Lecter is a fountain of mortuary knowledge. His lessons are always very interesting, and his assignments are never pointless. You end up enjoying his class greatly, receiving a near perfect grade at the completion of the semester.

You suppose it isn’t that surprising that you find yourself here now, sitting across from him nearly six years later. You’ve been going from job to job for the past few years, never landing on just the right one. Then Dr. Lecter himself reached out to you, offering you a position as mortuary assistant at River Fields Mortuary. Safe to say, you accepted the position the moment it was offered to you.

In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve asked more questions. You should’ve gotten some more specifics, instead of allowing Dr. Lecter to be so infuriatingly vague. Then, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation: conducting an examination under his scrutinizing eye, unable to shake the weird feeling of foreboding in your chest. Lecter’s gaze is insistent and unyielding as you get your bearings, soon slipping into a calmer headspace as you continue the analysis. You know how to do this. This is in your wheelhouse.

Things only get stranger as you work on the second body. The lights flicker and you start hearing whispers, warped voices beckoning you somewhere unknown. It’s pretty unnerving, and you find yourself almost sweating as you continue taking notes on the body’s condition. Your hand shakes slightly as you note the various marks across the arms and legs. When you’re checking the shoulder area, you hear something unsettling.

“You’ll die here,” Dr. Lecter whispers, a vicious glee in his voice. The space around you suddenly bleeds with bright color. You blink, a headache forming as you try to process what’s going on.

“What?” you ask, staring at Dr. Lecter with wide eyes. There’s a twisted smile on his face and blood running down his teeth and dripping past his jaw. You inhale sharply and you’re suddenly slammed back into reality.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, blinking at you with concern. No blood. No ominous warnings. You must’ve imagined it.

You breathe slowly and return your attention to the examination. After grabbing a wipe, you lean over the body and move to moisturize her face when her jaw suddenly snaps open. Her skin begins to heal over and her eyes slip open. You flinch and stumble back into a hard chest.

“Apologies,” Lecter says smoothly, stepping out of the way. You initially frown, a bit perplexed by why he was standing so close. He must’ve been trying to judge your progress. You shake off your suspicion and focus on the corpse once more. You’re only given a moment of respite before there’s suddenly the soft sound of footsteps behind you.

But… Dr. Lecter is standing in front of you. You can see him, remaining stationary and studying your movements. You shake your head and try to clear your thoughts, putting the scalpel to the skin of the neck and using the artery forceps to open the area. With the tubing secured, you walk over to the machine—only for a flicker of movement to draw your attention.

You drag your eyes to the corner of the room and freeze, goosebumps racing along your skin. You choke on your next breath as you lock eyes with some sort of withered white being. There are cracks along its skin and black rings around its eyes and lips. Its limbs are bent awkwardly. You’re frozen in disbelief for a long moment, before it suddenly lunges at you.

You immediately flinch and pull back, dropping the scalpel you’d been holding. It falls to the floor with a deafening clatter. Your ears are ringing.

“Are you quite alright?” Dr. Lecter asks. “You look rather shaken.”

“Yeah, I’m— I’m fine,” you say, stumbling through the words. You don’t sound convincing at the slightest. Lecter seems to think the same, because he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and gives you a gentle smile.

“How about you rest for the day?” he suggests, his grip remaining on your shoulder. “I can take it from here,” Dr. Lecter offers.

“No, that’s okay—” you try to object, not wanting to leave early on your first official day of work here.

“I insist,” Dr. Lecter continues, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. He only looks sympathetic, but you swear, when you take another look, his smile bleeds malice. “I’ve thrown a lot of information at you, all at once. You should go home and relax, take your mind off things.”

You bend down and pick up the scalpel you dropped. The mortician holds his hand out expectantly and you sigh, placing it in his open palm. He places the tool on the nearby counter, ushering you out of the room with well wishes and a promise to see you tomorrow. You let yourself be shepherded out of the office, one thought sticking to your mind with uncomfortable fervor: you hadn’t said what was bothering you, yet Hannibal acted as if he already knew. ‘Take your mind off things,’ he said.

…Does he have something to do with this?

No, surely not. You’re losing it. You’re running on far too few hours of sleep and more caffeine than normal. Plus, it’s normal to be stressed for a new job. And this isn’t an average job—this is one where you’ll constantly have to acknowledge death and your own mortality. It’s okay to be a bit thrown off at first. You’ll get used to it. Death is a scary thing to a lot of people.

You decide to give yourself a bit of a break, driving home to your apartment and quickly choosing to relax. You throw on a television series you’d been meaning to catch up on and lie back on your couch, letting the stress of the day slowly fade away.

At some point, you must fall into a half-sleep of sorts. You can faintly hear the TV show in the background, but your eyes remain shut and you don’t have the energy to open them again. You remain there for an immeasurable amount of time, until your phone’s shrill ringtone harshly drags you out of your slumber. Groaning, you push yourself up and grab your phone, squinting down at the caller ID.

…It��s Dr. Lecter.

You take a deep breath, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong earlier. After another second of contemplation, you tap the green button on the screen and accept his call. “Hello?” you say hesitantly.

Dr. Lecter greets you amicably, if a bit tersely. He sounds a bit… stressed? You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound affected like this before. The mortician doesn’t beat around the bush any longer.

“We have three new cadavers,” he states. “I was hoping you could take care of them. It appears I’m needed… elsewhere,” he trails off.

You swallow hard. Truthfully, now that you’re at home, you don’t want to leave. But it is your first day, and Dr. Lecter does sound pretty stressed. You don’t think you’re really in a position to refuse anyways. “...Okay,” you agree hesitantly.

His relief is almost palpable, as he thanks you profusely and promptly hangs up the call. For a few seconds, you stare down at your phone screen in disbelief. That was a pretty weird conversation. You almost want to convince yourself you imagined it, but one look at your call history is all it takes to prove that it very much happened.

Taking a measured breath, you change into your work clothes once more and grab your keys, before heading out to the car. It’s raining again, which only makes you more annoyed and tired. By the time you pull into the parking lot, you’re sincerely contemplating just turning around and going back home. But you promised Dr. Lecter you’d help him, so that’s what you’ll do.

(Maybe, if you had your wits about you, you would’ve noticed that Dr. Lecter’s car was still in the parking lot. Maybe you would’ve seen the shadowed figure lurking near it, as if waiting for you to enter the building.)

You fumble with the keys Dr. Lecter gave you and eventually manage to open the mortuary. Everything looks exactly the same as when you left. Nothing is out of place. You take a moment to ground yourself before heading through the hall and into the examination room, hanging up your jacket and beginning to assemble your materials. You grab one of the corpses and head back, getting everything situated before picking up your clipboard.

You can’t be studying the body for more than a few moments before you’re interrupted with a harsh banging sound. It scares you at first, and you only manage to calm yourself down by justifying it as an open window. But the banging sound continues, to the point when you can’t get it out of your head. Biting the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly walk down the hall towards the storage room. The sound only grows louder with each step you take.

You have to pause for a few seconds to psych yourself up, before finally opening the doors. You let your eyes wander across the room, before they quickly land on the source of the noise. One of the doors to the lockers is swinging back and forth on its own. You stare at it in frightened bewilderment, wondering how it could be moving without outside influence. With another step, it suddenly slams shut—leaving you standing in the middle of the silent room.

Your walk back to the examination room is just as eventful, as the white being from before pops out from a nearby pillar and startles you hard enough to nearly send you toppling. These strange occurrences seem like they should be hallucinations, but they’re just so real.

It seems the universe just doesn’t want you to get any work done, because by the time you get yourself back to the corpse, there’s yet another sound. This one’s different from the one before—it sounds like it’s coming from the front office, and it’s weirdly rhythmic. It doesn’t stop, either. Eventually, you decide you have to investigate—because, at this rate, you’re never going to get anything done if you keep getting distracted.

The moment you step into the front office, you hear the telltale sound of a lock slipping shut. You immediately run for the front doors, yanking on the handles desperately. They don’t budge. A helpless sound crawls out of your throat as you try to come to terms with what just happened: you’ve been locked out of the building.

What’s more: upon closer inspection, you realize Dr. Lecter is standing outside. He’s holding the keys in his hands and pure horror prickles along your skin.

The phone on the desk behind you is ringing now. And Dr. Lecter has a phone pressed to his ear.

You want to scream.

Instead, you walk to the desk with a deceptive composure, answering the phone.

“There isn’t much time,” Dr. Lecter says, immediately cutting to the chase. “A demon is attempting to possess you.”

“What?” you choke.

“Listen to me, and listen carefully,” he instructs you. “In order to protect yourself, you need to examine the corpses and determine which one is currently housing the demon. Using the sigils in the cabinet, you can create a mark to place on the corpse’s chest. Then, upon burning it in the furnace, the demon will be momentarily subdued.”

There’s so much wrong with what he just said. You’re left reeling.

“Momentarily?!” you eventually echo, after the tense silence grows to be uncomfortable.

“For what it is worth,” Hannibal says, entirely ignoring your disbelief and fear, “I’m sorry.”

Click.

You stare down at the phone in complete and utter incredulity. What the fuck is happening? If Dr. Lecter is to be believed, then you’re at risk of being possessed by a demon. You don’t want to believe him, but damn it, that would be a convenient answer for all the weird shit you’ve seen and experienced tonight. After all, there’s no logical explanation for how the corpses have blinked their eyes at you, contorted their limbs, and even spoken with their jaws wired shut. No, that’s not something that can be explained away rationally.

You take several shuddering breaths. What the hell should you do now? You could leave and pretend this never happened. Surely demons don’t exist. But on the off chance they do… they’ll likely follow you out of the mortuary. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to fight off your impending headache.

Eventually, you decide to get to work. Maybe if you focus enough, you’ll forget all of this madness. Despite your misgivings, you follow the instructions Haninbal left behind for you and grab a strip of letting paper. When the hall lights go out and flicker on moments later, revealing a shadowy figure, you’re quick to approach it with the paper in hand. The figure’s visage blurs and disappears, while the paper starts to smoke. It scares you at first, but you manage to convince yourself to take a few more steps. The paper finally bursts into flame, revealing a black demonic sigil carved into the wall. You commit the sigil to memory before returning to the wooden cabinet behind the desk and placing one of the matching emblems into the mark. You’re supposed to find all four symbols that correspond to the correct demon and then place the mark on the possessed body’s chest.

Does any of this make sense? Absolutely not. You’re still not sure if you’re actually going to use the mark, because damn it, this is all so suspicious. But as the time trickles on and more inexplicable phenomena occur, you begin to come to terms with the truth. Hannibal is telling the truth. (Hannibal, your subconscious says. He stopped being ‘Dr. Lecter’ when he locked you in this building and lied to you.)

Against all odds, you finish treating the first body and return it to the cold storage area. You wheel the next one out on the gurney, annoyed with how loud it screeches against the tile floor. You try to pretend as if everything is normal, as if you aren’t embroiled in something far bigger than yourself. You rotate his head, shoulders, and arms to check for marks. You write up an embalming report and file it in the front office. You’re just about to wire his jaw shut when there’s the soft sound of footsteps behind you.

You turn around to find Dr. Lecter standing in the corner of the room.

“Dr. Lecter?” you ask quietly.

“Hannibal,” he corrects you.

You squint at him. What the fuck? Your hallucinations have been taking on the forms of you and family members, but this is the first time you’ve seen a manifestation of Hannibal himself. It’s eerily realistic, to the point where you find yourself slowly breaking the distance between you and heading for the corner where he lingers.

When you take another step closer, you expect the image to fade. Instead, he remains—and only the hum of the embalming pump and the ticking of the nearby clock occupy the tense silence. You swallow hard, uncertain how to proceed. You could ignore him, pretend he isn’t here. But usually these images don’t go away until you confront them directly. Right?

Your heart leaping in your throat, you tentatively reach out. The image doesn’t react. Hannibal doesn’t react. You move to tap him on the shoulder, expecting your hand to swipe through thin air. Instead, your hand meets his shoulder and you suck in a sharp breath.

“You’re here?” you say, surprised and more than a little unnerved.

“Yes,” he responds.

“Why?” you question. “I thought you had something to take care of.”

“I wanted to check on you,” Hannibal answers. “It’s your first night here, after all. I wouldn’t abandon you.”

“...Right,” you say, unconvinced. He pretty much did abandon you for several hours, though.

Truthfully, you still have no idea if he’s real or not. You could’ve easily imagined this entire interaction. You scrutinize the Dr. Lecter lurking in the corner for several moments, before something in you just snaps. You sink to the ground, burying your head in your hands as the tears you’d been fighting off slip down your cheeks. You feel so helpless. You’re in over your head. You had no idea the night would go like this. Every moment of it has been pure torture. You’ve been tormented by beings that shouldn’t even exist, mocked by voices dripping in cruelty and maleficence. You’ve seen your own dead body countless times; you’ve stared into your own dead eyes. You’ve been thrown around, scratched and clawed at, bruised, drenched in rain. You’re so, so tired.

There’s a slight shuffling noise. The Dr. Lecter in the room with you must be a figment of your imagination. Because Hannibal Lecter wouldn’t look so concerned for anyone other than himself. Hannibal wouldn’t approach you, crouching down before you and pulling you into his arms gently. He wouldn’t bring a hand up to cradle your cheek; and he certainly wouldn’t whisper reassurances against your skin.

Even if this were real, you shouldn’t be allowing it. One thing has become abundantly clear to you tonight: Hannibal knows far more than he’s letting on. And yet, here you are: clinging to him tightly, as if he’s your only anchor to reality. (He is.)

Your breaths are harsh and soft all at once. You think you’re shivering. You close your eyes and lean into the warmth Hannibal’s providing, uncaring if he’s a phantom or a real person.

Then a harsh shiver runs through you and you open your eyes blearily, only to find yourself sprawled across the pavement outside.

It wasn’t real. Of course it wasn’t. Why would Hannibal be comforting you?

You push yourself to your feet, ignoring the aching pains that shoot through you and staggering back into the building. You lock the door, despite knowing it’s a futile effort. Regardless of how many times you try to lock yourself in the examination room and keep yourself safe… you’re still harassed by this demon. Nothing about River Fields Mortuary is safe, you’re quickly realizing.

And you get the feeling you’ve only scratched the surface of the secrets that comprise this place. Your suspicions are only confirmed when you find an old key and use it on the basement doors outside, successfully reaching the dank underground space. It’s dusty and slightly dirty, with only a desk and a few file cabinets to make the space resemble a room. Scattered around the papers are letters and missives, which you skim through with growing dread.

As you suspected, Hannibal Lecter has a much bigger role in this than you previously thought. He’s been luring people to this mortuary. You’re just not quite sure why. He must be plagued by demons, but why is he subjecting others to that same torment?

You’re still digesting that thought when you step into the other room and find a wooden coffin rattling. You immediately flinch at the movement, horror seeping through you as you hear a voice beckoning you. Her name is Vallery, she says. Hannibal trapped her in here. You think you can hear her blood trickling into a bucket near the coffin and a new nausea crawls up your throat.

“I’ll— I’ll come back for you,” you eventually say before departing. (Liar. Liar. Liar liar liar liar liar liarrrrr—) You shake your head to clear your spiraling thoughts, focusing on leaving the basement and getting back into the warmth of the building. You’re freezing. Your teeth have been chattering insistently.

Even when you’re free from the harsh rain, you still feel cold. All of the strange happenings only increase in intensity as the night continues, forcing you to witness horrors beyond your comprehension. Even the prospect of leaving this place and returning home isn’t comforting. (Because can you really even leave at all?)

You eventually decide to return to the basement before burning a body. You’d taken the mark off of Vallery’s coffin, but she remains trapped in it. You stare at her through the small opening of the coffin, wondering just how far gone she is. It’s hard to tell if there’s even a remnant of the real Vallery remaining, or if the demon has already taken control of her.

Before you can contemplate that question much longer, the wood of the coffin splinters. A bony hand reaches into the small slit for the eyes and tears the wood down in one swift gesture. The front of the coffin crumbles into a misshapen pile of scraps on the ground, and you’re left to watch in horror as the inhabitant promptly lurches forward right at you.

You just barely manage to step out of the way, leaving her to fall to the ground. Vallery groans in a disturbingly deep voice, pushing her hands to the ground and getting herself up. The movement draws your attention to the ripped flesh of her back, mangled enough to reveal her vertebrae. You think you’re going to be sick.

The lights flicker and a muted laugh echoes through the space. “You stupid fuck,” the demon hisses in Vallery’s voice, sending a chill down your spine.

This is bad. You immediately try to run away from her, but there’s a harsh grip on your ankle and you’re tumbling down to the ground. The demon’s grasp is painful, tearing through your skin and digging into your bones. You scream and manage to kick her off, scrambling backwards until your back hits the wall behind you. The exit is just to your left, it’s so close… But the demon is far quicker than you, crawling towards you. Its yellow eyes pierce through the darkness as it descends upon you, before being inexplicably dragged backwards by an unseen force.

The lights flicker once more, before illuminating the room to reveal the demon with elongated limbs, creeping forward on unsteady feet as it bemoans its flesh prison. You’re plunged into darkness once more, left to anticipate your own death as horrible scratching and skittering noises reverberate through your ears. The lightbulbs taunt you in their brightness, showing an almost shadow-like figure with impossibly long limbs. You try to scoot backwards even more, your back flattened against the wall as your heart races in your chest.

There’s movement at your side and you turn to find Hannibal standing in the doorway, a grave expression on his face. He’s quick to assess the situation, turning to find the demon and putting himself between you. The demon laughs; you think you’re going to hyperventilate. It’s a blur: the demon pushes Hannibal to the ground, Hannibal shoves it into the floor. There’s a quick fountain of embers, with the demon gaining the upper hand as it rips at Hannibal’s chest with a clawed hand. Hannibal is quick to get it down to the ground again, before it scrambles away screaming. Now the mortician stalks over to it, extending a hand. Flames emerge from the ground and swallow the demon whole, burning it to ash.

Hannibal barely spares the demon a glance, instead making his way over to you and pulling you to your feet. “Are you alright?” he asks, his shirt torn to shreds.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. At his expectant gaze, you nod jerkily. Nothing about this situation is normal. And you haven’t felt alright since you stepped foot in this building. Hannibal seems to sense the sentiment, because he only nods and guides you into the main area of the cellar. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence.

You soon find yourself staring at him with scrutiny, your eyes wandering along the bare skin he’s unwittingly revealed. “Do you like what you see?” Hannibal hums, sensing your staring. The remark’s so out of place that you think you imagined it. But you didn’t, because Hannibal’s looking at you expectantly.

You take a slow breath, trying to remain calm despite how quickly your heart is racing. You really thought you were going to die for a second there. “Not particularly,” you then admit, your eyes tracing the warped, swooping black lines across Hannibal’s skin. “There’s a sigil on your chest.” That can’t be good.

Hannibal nods. “There is,” he confirms. There’s an interesting expression on his face. “You know, you’re the first one to survive the night.” Is that supposed to be reassuring? The only emotions that statement provokes in you are fear and dread. He’s done this before. He’s sacrificed countless others, under the guise of this mortuary assistant position. You signed away your life the moment you accepted this job. And if you hadn’t survived, you would’ve been the one in that coffin.

“This never ends,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but you both know the answer. Indeed, Hannibal nods, confirming your suspicions. You run a trembling hand over your face, still struggling to keep your composure. You’re soaked to the bone from the rain. There’s a decent gash across your wrist, burning insistently. And then there’s the rotten truth of the whole affair: you’re going to be stuck here for the rest of your life. Constantly fighting off demons, yet always alone in the end.

“Selfishly speaking,” Hannibal begins, his lips quirking into a broken, lonely smile as he breaks through the silence, “I am grateful for the company.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You want to curse at him, shove him away from you and shake him by the collar until he understands just what kind of hopeless existence he’s forced you into. You want to lash out at him more than anything.

Instead, you just huff a breath and swallow past the taste of blood.

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darth-jess · 8 months ago

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My Unpopular Opinion: Was Mace Windu About to Defeat Sidious?

Alright, somebody asked me this question a while back, and personally, I thought the answer was pretty obvious: no, Mace Windu was not about to defeat Sidious in the battle in the Chancellor's Office.

And then I conducted this poll:

Since then, I have come to realize, the answer is (apparently) NOT obvious.

So in this post, I will attempt to prove that Mace Windu, as incredibly powerful as he was, was NOT winning against Palpatine in the battle in the Chancellor's office in Revenge of the Sith even when it looked like he was.

Furthermore, I will argue that Palpatine's deception does not change the importance and power of Anakin's choice.

Let me preface this with: I love Mace Windu! He is literally one of my favorite Jedi, I love his character and I also love Samuel L. Jackson, so you have to understand this is not coming from a place of "Mace Windu hate."

Anyway, this is about to be a long post, so bear with me or tap out now. I'm an English major, so I go about this argument in a very "literary analysis" kind of way.

THE EVIDENCE:

youtube

Okay so as you can see, even in the movie, Palpatine quickly kills the other Jedi Council Masters. And these are not weak Jedi. They are Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, and Agen Kolar, all highly respected for their wisdom, their use of the Force, and their skill as warriors.

No one else in the entire galaxy could take out these three Masters as quickly as Sidious did, which goes to show how incredibly powerful Darth Sidious is as a warrior.

Mace Windu is clearly the greatest warrior of all the Masters who came with him. He is one of the most powerful Jedi of the Order, second only to Master Yoda (and possibly Anakin, depending on how you interpret Anakin's potential in the Force vs actual ability, but we won't get into that here).

Even if we're just looking at what strictly happens in the movie, Sidious is holding his own just fine against Mace Windu– sure, it's an intense battle, but neither of them seem to be winning or losing.

Suddenly, and only after Anakin is on his way to the Chancellor's office, Sidious begins to falter. Does that NOT seem a bit like a coincidence? Mace Windu kicks Sidious in the face, Sidious loses his lightsaber, and immediately turns into a sniveling little grub begging for his life.

Here's the thing.

Are we really meant to believe all of this was just a coincidence that occurred right as Anakin was walking in?

PERSONALLY, I don't buy it.

You have to remember:

Sidious is the master of manipulation. That is his greatest strength.

Alright, let's look at the book.

In the Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover, it starts when Sidious reveals to Anakin that he is the Sith Lord, but that he is also Anakin's friend. Anakin says he will turn Sidious over to the Jedi Council, because Anakin has no idea what to do… he can't kill this man who was his friend, who says he can help him save Padmé.

Sidious makes it very clear to Anakin that the Jedi are going to come to execute him, and Anakin insists that they wouldn't, because (as Anakin says in the movie) "It's not the Jedi way." It shows that Anakin still has faith in the Jedi, in the ways of the Jedi, and it is Sidious's job to tear that away.

All of this is a way for Sidious to prove his point to Anakin– that the Jedi are not as noble as Anakin has been lead to believe. And what's the best way for him to show that to Anakin? What's the best way for him to PROVE that point? If Sidious can show Anakin that the Jedi (the BEST of the Jedi) will kill an unarmed man… will murder someone who has SURRENDERED… Anakin will see the truth: that the Jedi only follow their own rules until it is inconvenient. That the Jedi are not noble, they are hypocrites.

Leading up to the battle in the Chancellor's office, Sidious waits for the Jedi Masters to arrive.

The shadow, Darth Sidious, is not worried by their approach and honestly this is not overconfidence. This is all part of the plan.

As the Jedi storm into his office, he begins a recording which he will later show to the Senate as PROOF that the Jedi tried to assassinate him– a powerless man who has only tried to do his best for the Republic. This is the recording, transcribed in the ROTS novelization:

Yet during the entire recording, Palpatine is killing the Jedi even when it sounds like he's begging for help. This is a small portion of what really happened, between Palpatine's cries for help:

Palpatine has put on this nice little show for the sake of the recording which he can later show the Senate, as proof that the Jedi were trying to overthrow the Republic. Palpatine even LOCKS THE DOOR WITH THE FORCE, locking himself in there with the other Jedi Masters.

Then, we switch to Mace Windu's perspective who is quoted to be "fighting for his life."

So here, Mace Windu feels Palpatine's fear… or at least, he thinks the fear is from Palpatine. And then, Mace Windu cuts Palpatine's lightsaber in half, the blade falling away so that Palpatine had no weapon.

Palpatine falls to the ground and backs away from Mace, just like in the movie, until he's trapped against the window sill.

And Mace Windu doesn't have time to actually consider Palpatine's words, but we (the readers/audience) know the implication: that the fear Mace Windu is feeling belongs to Anakin not Palpatine.

Then, Palpatine begins his Force-lightning attack, and Mace Windu– facing an UNARMED Palpatine– calls out for Anakin's help. Let's remember, Palpatine has no lightsaber, he is lying on his back, on the window sill.

Let me say that again: Mace Windu, NEEDS ANAKIN'S HELP, FACING AN UNARMED MAN, WHO IS LAYING ON HIS BACK.

Palpatine is still in COMPLETE CONTROL of the entire situation.

Even as Mace Windu catches the Force lighting and redirects it back at Palpatine, Palpatine does not stop until he's super deformed and looking totally awful– this isn't out of self defense, this is (once again) for the sole purpose of putting on a show.

Palpatine says, "He's killing me, Anakin" and yet Palpatine CONTINUES to use Force lightning. It's not Mace Windu who is killing Palpatine, Mace Windu is DEFENDING HIMSELF against the powerful Force lightning attack, that PALPATINE continues, even as it deforms him.

Mace Windu is not lying when he says, "Anakin, he's too strong for me–" because Palpatine, even unarmed, is so much more powerful than Mace Windu.

Palpatine is lying when he says, "I…can't. I give up. I…I am too weak, in the end. […] I surrender."

And he says it because he knows what those words– "I surrender"– will do. He knows that it is against the belief of the Jedi to kill an unarmed man, to kill someone who HAS ACTUALLY SURRENDERED. Even Count Dooku had not surrendered to Anakin. He was unarmed, but he did not surrender.

Anakin knows this. This is why Anakin was so upset about the way he killed Count Dooku, because it was not the Jedi way, because it was wrong. And now, here's Mace Windu, one of the best of the Jedi, about to kill a man who has actually surrendered.

When Mace Windu says, "He controls the Senate" he is accidentally playing into Palpatine's hand. Palpatine has told Anakin that the Jedi will try to take over the Republic (which until now, Anakin thought was ridiculous) and if the Jedi take over the Senate, will they kill all the Senators, too? Padmé?

Obviously the Jedi would not have done this, but Anakin's lack of sleep, mixed with his fear and Palpatine's manipulations suddenly make it all too real for him.

There is only one split second where Mace Windu actually could have killed Palpatine, and that's right before Anakin steps in as Mace raises his lightsaber for the killing blow. But the only reason Mace has this opportunity at all is because Sidious allows it. And Sidious allows it because he needs Anakin to see how far the Jedi have fallen. Mace steps into the trap, raising his lightsaber, and seals his fate.

CONCLUSION

Mace Windu was an incredible warrior. He was one of the most powerful Jedi who ever lived, and he is one of my personal favorite Jedi. However, the outcome of this battle was decided before it began.

I have seen some people say: if Mace was not winning, it takes away the power and meaningfulness of Anakin’s choice.

And I understand the argument– because how is Anakin's choice important at all if Mace had already lost? If Mace Windu was never going to win, then Anakin's choice truly had no effect on whether or not the Republic fell, whether or not the Jedi were destroyed.

But the Jedi had destroyed themselves already by fighting in the Clone Wars. The Republic was rotten from the inside out, and it was not just because of Palpatine. So by the time Anakin is forced to make his choice, the fall of the Republic and the Jedi is already inevitable– it's just a matter of when.

Even Padmé recognizes this much earlier in the movie:

"What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists, and the Republic has become the very evil we have been fighting to destroy?"

By this point, the Republic has already been gutted. The Sith have already won.

Had Anakin chosen to help Mace Windu kill Palpatine– and Palpatine already knew Anakin never would have, otherwise Palpatine never would have let Anakin leave his office and tell the Jedi Council he was a Sith– the Sith may have been destroyed. But it would not have stopped the slow degradation of the Republic, and it would not have ended the hypocrisy of the Jedi as peacekeeper-warriors.

And yet, in so many ways, Star Wars is about inevitability and the choices people make in the face of destiny.

Anakin's choice still matters, but his choice was never between light or dark, it was never between Jedi or Sith, it wasn’t even between killing Mace Windu or killing Palpatine.

His choice, in that split second before he makes it, is: stop Mace Windu and save Padmé or watch her die.

Anakin's choice matters because of what it means for Padmé's future, and his own. It matters, because he chooses to be an active participant in the destruction of everything he has ever fought for in an attempt to save her, and it fails, and it ruins him.

All of this is Palpatine forcing Anakin into a corner, and forcing him to make an impossible choice.

But he’s immediately filled with horror after he’s made his choice, because he didn't want Mace Windu to die. He doesn’t regret it, because he has already decided he will do whatever it takes to save Padmé, but he hates that his choice has come down to this.

Alright, did my argument convince you? If not, why? Do you think Mace Windu was truly more powerful than Sidious and was about to defeat him on his own, and if so, why?

I will not respond to rude, or mean remarks. I'm genuinely interested in a discussion if I've not convinced you, and I am open to changing my mind if you have evidence to the contrary!

#Youtube #star wars #mace windu #palpatine #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #emperor palpatine #anakin skywalker #padmé amidala #revenge of the sith #rots #sw prequels #Star Wars rots #Star Wars revenge of the sith #Star Wars meta #Darth Jess #anidala #Star Wars opinion #unpopular opinion

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coochellati · 7 months ago

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Bruno Bucciarati: The Perfect Dominant

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to get dommed by Bruno Bucciarati?

Whether you’ve thought about it or not, take a moment to picture it.

Bruno is:

Confident.

Authoritative.

Assertive.

Empathetic.

…Isn’t it perfect?

It makes sense a leader like Bruno would naturally gravitate toward a more dominant role. Not to mention, his career has given him plenty of practice.

But it gets better. Bruno isn’t just someone who can play the part—he’s uniquely equipped with talents that make him second to none at bedroom dominance.

Keep reading for an in-depth analysis (with headcanons!) on why our beloved Zipper Daddy would be the dom of your dreams!

(If it wasn’t clear already—this is definitely 18+)

Bruno: The Sadistic Side

Before diving in, let’s clarify: not every dom is a sadist. However, I headcanon Bruno as one.

Even though this was (very much) not intended, Hirohiko Araki has made it clear that Bruno is quite capable of donning the mindset needed for this role.

Well, not only is Bruno “quite capable”—he’s a goddamn professional.

When interrogating Giorno, Bruno effortlessly adopts the role of a cold, ruthless interrogator. There’s a calculated cruelty in his actions as if he’s playing a game rather than conducting torture.

This isn’t surprising. Intimidation is part of his job, and years of experience have made Bruno exceptionally skilled at it.

In the bedroom, that sadistic edge translates to Bruno reveling in his partner’s reactions. He thrives on his partner’s surrender, growing more intoxicated as his dominance intensifies. (He may even make his partner call him by his last name as a way to “respect” his authority.) Bruno’s self-restraint would quickly slip away, no doubt this making lasting a challenging task for him.

The Human Lie Detector

Bruno Bucciarati is no ordinary dom. His unique skill set makes him exceptional— nobody possesses a toolkit quite like his.

No, I don’t mean “toolkit” like that—(heh.)

I’m talking about the range of enthralling tricks he has up his sleeve!

The self-proclaimed human lie detector can discern a liar using multiple methods, one such being his keen ability to read body language.

It’s clear he’s fluent in non-verbal communication—In the interrogation scene with Giorno, Bruno knew Giorno was lying before resorting to more… unconventional methods. After all, would he have placed Luca’s eye into an innocent person’s hand? (Which of course happened before Bruno licked him.)

And speaking of unconventional methods—yes, we have to talk about the sweat thing. ;)

Bruno’s ability to detect lies by taste is, let’s say, niche. The fact that he so casually licked Giorno implies it’s not his first time using this technique.

Maybe I’m a freak, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the thought of Bruno dragging his tongue against my skin by really fucking hot. (I know I’m not the only person who feels this way—after all, you chose to read this…) Hoo boy—especially when you remember that your face isn’t the only body part that sweats.

(And according to MatPat, your face isn’t even the best part of your body to sample stress sweat from—It’s, uh… in other places. 😉)

Endowed with a sharp mind, Bruno has no trouble finding kinky uses for his lie detection, and because he’s skilled at torture, he knows just how to discipline a filthy liar. ;)

Here’s an excerpt from a drabble I wrote imagining how this scenario might go down:

He chuckles softly again and fixes his gaze on you, akin to that of a hungry predator. "Perfect," he purrs. "And of course, there'll be consequences if you're anything less than entirely truthful."

You feel your cheeks growing warm. "What kind of consequences?"

"I haven't decided yet," he wickedly smiles, the dancing spark in his eyes having ignited into a blazing flame. "It'll depend on the severity of your lie."

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, quickening your heartbeat. The bed shifts slightly as Bruno leans in dizzyingly close, stopping when his face is but an inch from yours.

"How does that make you feel?" he teases, his voice lowering to a seductive murmur. His warm breath kisses your skin. "Does this excite you?"

(read the full drabble here)

Kinky Fingers: The Ultimate Dom Tool

No discussion of Bruno’s dom potential is complete without addressing the elephant in the room:

That’s right! It’s his stand, 「Sticky Fingers.」

…Are you aware of how fucking much you can do with this stand ability? (Or how much fucking you can do!! ahahaha!!!… I’ll see myself out…)

No, really—I cannot emphasize enough how large the bedroom the potential is on this one. His stand opens up an entirely new realm of possibilities.

As you know, Sticky Fingers creates zippers on any surface it touches, allowing Bruno to attach, detach, and reconfigure objects (and people). We’ve already seen him use it to “restrain” Mario Zucchero by unzipping his head from his body.

Now think about how this ability translates to bondage.

Who needs ropes or cuffs when you can create custom restraints with zippers? Whether it’s immobilizing you to a surface, hogtying you with a flick of his wrist, or inventing entirely new ways to keep you at his mercy—Bruno’s creativity is unmatched.

And it doesn’t stop there. Sticky Fingers—I mean, Kinky Fingers—opens the door to a genre of kink that only Bruno could offer: zipper play.

With absolute control over his stand, Bruno could tease, restrain, or overwhelm his partner in ways that are impossible for anyone else. Once those zippers appear, no one else can remove them—your submission would be entirely his.

And now, I am proud to present a list of many kinky uses for Sticky Fingers:

Wouldn’t it be crazy to have your head zipped off only for your mouth to be used as a fleshlight? (Can you even begin to imagine that?)

My personal favorite use would have to be how he can disassemble your entire body… and then do whatever the fuck he wants. ;)

Again, maybe I’m a freak—but it sounds hot!

(I’ve also written an entire one shot about this, so if you’re interested in it, here’s the link! It’s kind of long and jam-packed with lots of Kinky Fingers action.)

Empathy and Non-Verbal Communication

Bruno Bucciarati isn’t just a skilled dom—what truly sets him apart is his empathy and attentiveness to his partner.

Being a good dom isn’t just about playing the role or mastering techniques; it’s about understanding and prioritizing your partner’s needs.

A great dom has the emotional awareness to recognize what their partner wants and ensures the experience is enjoyable for both parties—because if it’s not fun for both, it’s not fun at all.

Empathy is central to Bruno’s character. It’s his greatest strength and, at times, his greatest vulnerability. Without it, he simply wouldn’t be Bruno.

This deep empathy is perfectly complemented by his ability to read non-verbal communication—another crucial skill for a dom. You can’t create a fulfilling experience without understanding what your partner feels, even when they don’t say it aloud.

As discussed earlier, Bruno’s “human lie detector” instincts rely on sharp observation, especially his talent for reading body language.

Imagine how this skill would translate to the bedroom. Bruno would pick up on every subtle cue—every shift, hesitation, or unspoken need. Whether it’s meeting his partner’s desire or teasing out their secrets, this man would masterfully ensure the experience is as intense as it is unforgettable.

As you know, Bruno Bucciarati isn’t just any dom. His empathy, authority, and one-of-a-kind abilities make him an unmatched partner in both leadership and intimacy. Whether it’s through his sharp intuition or the limitless potential of Sticky Fingers, Bruno’s dominance would leave you both exhilarated and utterly spent.

Zipper Daddy supremacy.

Thank you for reading. I hope that my sermon has enlightened you. 💕

P.S. Thank you to @moody-bloos for suggesting this! I know this wasn’t probably what you had in mind, but since I am so incredibly passionate about this topic I wanted to go above and beyond…

The only thing I like more than sub Bruno is dom Bruno.

If you’d like to check out other things I’ve written, you can click right here <3

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communistkenobi · 9 months ago

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I love finding new communists blogs because you immediately have to scroll through all the posts to see if you wanna follow them or block them lmao. Anyway from what I understand you work in western academia to some degree and as a student taking some classes in the social sciences it’s such a pain in the ass trying to even bring up a Marxist perspective. How do you deal with how much pushback socialism has in academia?

I’m doing a PhD in sociology ! And please feel free to block me, we are all annoying etc

I would say that resistance to socialist ideas is a major source of frustration for me in academia - a learning curve for me has been gearing my writing & research to work around that type of institutional hostility. It depends on the discipline as well. Given that Marx is such a titanic figure in sociology I find it easier to engage with his work openly (although you will be mocked for it lol - it’s viewed as a dead-end project in the West since the USSR collapsed), whereas more history- or politics-based courses I’ve taken have been extremely hostile to even tepid Marxist analysis. I have friends to vent to and have found other people in my discipline who are like-minded, which has helped. You will need to do a lot of tactical retreats - I’ve found that tying your analysis to state policy helps a lot, it helps you get grants, and academics trade in policy-talk across disciplines so it will prepare you for that if you want to stay in academia.

I have also been making peace with the fact that academia is not really the place to “do” socialism - it is a deeply political job, and my ideological commitments motivate me to do work and research that I hope are beneficial to the world, but I think the authority and privileges afforded to academics, not academia itself, is the better avenue to conduct political activity - participating in student & left-wing actions, giving money and resources to activist groups, using your prestigious position to publicly speak on issues, sign important documents for vulnerable people (profs are counted as authorities to sign off on name change documents for trans people in Canada for example, as well as visa and citizenship proof I believe?), things like that. There was that Canadian doctor, Dr. Yipeng Ge, who was suspended from his university position for speaking out against Israel and went to Palestine on a medical mission, Engels used his family’s money to fund Marx & socialist actions, Lenin went to law school, etc (i am NOT remotely comparing myself to any of them to be clear lol, just demonstrating that there is historical precedent for this way of thinking). I’ve done a decent amount of union + community work and the reoccurring lesson I keep learning is that there are many little, vacant positions of power sprinkled throughout the world that will help you organize and agitate above and beyond your individual capabilities. And the right wing knows this! They take over local school board committees and town halls and run for office in their local neighbourhoods all the time, often unopposed, and use that to exert terrible political influence.

I try very much to resist the “one of the good ones” mindset re: my own career in academia and is one I struggle with pretty often. being pragmatic about what academic research actually does in the world is still something I’m grappling with. Academia has provided me with an incredibly prestigious education and a lot of social capital that I hope to use for some amount of good. I’m also betting on what is essentially a lottery ticket, given how rare tenure-track university positions are, so maybe all of this will be irrelevant anyway lol. I’m not sure if that’s helpful but it’s not a settled issue for me either, so if this reads as vague or wishy-washy that’s why!

#asks

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lov3-from-loserlane · 8 months ago

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Qiu Lin character/enneagram analysis

@onelastskip thank you so much for the request!

I did have every intention of making this write up, sorry it took so long!! Unfortunately a lot of my hard ““evidence”” comes from beta and other patreon exclusive content, but I can absolutely write a more generalized and theoretical response about Qiu’s enneagram. And I literally just replayed the prologue yesterday so it is freshhh.

(I also love the enneagram, I prefer it over MBTI. Great minds think alike ;) )

And if you’re a newbie to the enneagram, don’t worry! I’ll be thorough with my explanations, so you should be able to follow along. Verrrrrry thorough hahahhaah. This post is literally over 2k words.

But! Just think about this as a general character analysis through the lense of the enneagram. It’ll be at least kind of interesting and fun, I promiseeee 😉🤞

So, anyway, let’s get started then.

I typed Qiu as a 3w2 sx/so

So what does this mean?

I believe that Qiu is an enneagram 3 with a 2 wing. The instinctual variants for their enneagram being sx and so. I’ll explain what that all means later on, but we’ll start with just about the basic description of the enneagram.

Enneagram 3 Description

The Enneagram is a personality theory that aims to describe the most vulnerable parts of ourselves, our hopes, our fears, our motivations, and potentially our trauma. It’s how we see the world and make sense of our emotions.

So then, what does it mean to be an enneagram 3?

Well, 3s in their most basic form, can be understood this way:

The enneagram 3 is defined by their need to differentiate themselves from other people through their accomplishments and can appear incredibly ambitious and goal oriented. 3s like to keep themselves busy, and their schedules are usually jam-packed with things to do. They’re very charismatic and acutely aware of the correct polite conduct. They make it a point to make good first impressions. 3s do not believe that they are inherently worthy of being loved, however, and that being loved comes as a result of what they can achieve. 3s fear their own irrelevancy, and are driven by a need for attention and admiration.

I’m sure you noticed that some of that description does fit Qiu! However, there’s a lot that *doesn’t* which probably stood out, and needs to addressed.

Like, what’s this about being super goal-oriented, ambitious, and needing to be successful? Nothing about Qiu, from what we’ve seen, proves that to be true about them.

Those of you who know the enneagram may even be thinking, “well, what about enneagram 2? They’re also people oriented, want to be liked and appreciated, and then we don’t have to worry about the fact that Qiu doesn’t seem necessarily ambitious or goal-oriented on being successful.”

Well, I kinda mislead you there. Because I think Qiu is very ambitious and goal-oriented, just not in the way we traditionally think about these concepts. Usually we think a person with these traits aims to someday have a high paying job, invent something new, do something genius that’ll get them celebrated worldwide or accumulate a comfortable amount of wealth. Which doesn’t sound like Qiu at all. But that’s not the only way this desire can be exhibited.

Instinctual Variants:

Thats where the instinctual variants of the enneagram come in. Instinctual variants are basically just subtypes of the enneagram, different ways in which the same enneagram can be presented. And it’s a part of enneagram that is relatively more unknown, but can actually be a huge help in figuring out which enneagram applies to you/a character. (So if you’re into enneagram at all, I recommend checking them out! Fair warning: the instinctual variants can really delve into the worst possible version of your psyche in a lot of cases, so be prepared for that. Be honest with yourself.)

Anyway, the instinctual variants are abbreviated as “sx”, “so”, and “sp”. These stand for “sexual”, “social”, and “self-preserving”, respectively.

I typed Qiu as a sexual 3. NOW CHILL cause before you come at me “sexual” doesn’t LITERALLY mean sexual, sexuality, sex, etc. I mean in some cases it can definitely be related, but it does not mean that inherently. And that’s not what I’m gonna be talking about with Qiu like at all. I don’t know why they called it that, I didn’t make it up. I just read about it and then apply it to fictional characters in my tumblr posts 😪

But anyway, the sx 3 can often times not look like a traditional 3, which would make Qiu a little difficult to type as a 3 initially. But once you get into the description of the sx 3, it starts to become more clear.

Sx 3s aren’t so much focused on making achievements in the real world so much as they are on pleasing others and creating an appealing image around themselves. They extract feelings of accomplishment from the happiness and success of the people around themselves. Unlike other 3s, sx 3s aim to connect to others mentally through supporting them. They expend much of their energy for the sake of other people, and they’re hardworking and ambitious in this way. They don’t necessarily feel the need for tangible achievement like other 3s. They love, admiration, and desire of others is enough for them. They are unconventional achievers in this way. Sexual 3s have a very community driven mentality, where they’re always looking out for the greater good of the whole team.

They can also often times feel the need to play into the role of an easily digestible feminine or masculine image, depending on how they were assigned at birth 😳 Whichhhh I want to yank a quote from the beta moment “fancy fun” for this so bad. But you’re just gonna have to guess what I’m talking about if you played it. And if you haven’t, I’m sorry 😔‼️ but I do feel like this point can be somewhat inferred from the demo, if only abstract based on how Qiu conducts themself.

Now, the enneagram 2’s flavor of wanting to be “likeable” isn’t necessarily rooted in being admired and looked up to. In a lot of ways, it’s the opposite. The enneagram 2 wants to be useful and needed by others. Qiu may feel like they are useful and that they are needed, but that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for. Qiu at the end of the day just wants for people think they’re cool and kind and the best friend ever. Which is why I don’t think they are a 2, they simply have a 2 wing. (The wing just being another thing that indicates what way the enneagram presents itself).

So yeah, I think sx 3 is the perfect fit for Qiu. Because while they don’t necessarily need to be revered for any personal accomplishments, (only rarely taking the opportunity to brag, and if they do it’s played off more or less as a joke) they do however have this intense need to be liked as a person and looked up to for that reason.

Childhood Wound:

Another way we can infer somebody’s enneagram would be based on their “childhood wound.” In enneagram, this would be the root of where this person’s enneagram would come from. Meaning yes, a person’s enneagram is established during their childhood years and does not change.

The childhood wound of the enneagram 3 is as follows:

(Screenshotted from a deleted user on Reddit)

Based on some information given in the QnAs on patreon, we can infer that this is true of Qiu’s childhood. But I also believe it can be inferred by public content as well.

Based on how Qiu conducts themself, I don’t think kids in Golden Grove ever really appreciated Qiu for being Qiu. People liked them because they were expending themselves for the sake of others, trying their best to include everybody and putting on this “act” of being cool about everything. They actively minimize their own needs/boundaries while being hyper aware of everyone else’s. This made them likable, which made them popular, which made them a high commodity to their classmates.

We also kind of get this in the explanation for Baxter’s crush on Qiu. Baxter could have liked Qiu genuinely, I’m not discounting that at all, after all he was one of their closest friends in childhood. However, the way he goes about rationalizing it to himself is this:

(Screenshotted from the GBPatch tumblr)

“You’re popular, so why shouldn’t I like you.” And it’s safe to assume a lot of other people felt the same way about Qiu, whether it be related to a crush or completely platonically. It was this sort of self fulfilling prophecy where Qiu tried their best to live up to the expectations of others, which made them even more desirable to people, which made them feel they had to become subservient to these expectations, which made people want them all the more. And in a way, they themselves kinda wanted that. They actively seek out that kind of attention and feel fulfilled when it’s received. But not to this extreme of a point, as we can see in Step 2.

What about Step 2?!:

That brings us to one glaring problem some may already be considering. Qiu’s personality in Step 2. It seems to have taken a complete 180 from how they were in Step 1.

In Step 2, the last thing Qiu wants is attention or to be around people at all. They could seemingly care less if they’re liked which can be observed in how they treat Tamarack’s concerns about their litter in the current Step 2 preview. They straight up disregard her feelings completely, and not politely. Qiu really just wants to hide away from it all and not be bothered. And if the enneagram is developed during childhood and then never changes, wouldn’t it be better to find something that also encompasses that side of them? Maybe they’re not a 3, or even a 2!

Weeeeeell ackshually ☝️🤓, I think enneagram 3 is still very applicable to Step 2 Qiu, but there’s not much I can say about that *definitively* at the moment.

However, we do have this description of Step 3 Qiu to work off of:

(Screenshotted from the GBPatch tumblr)

So obviously, Qiu’s presentation in Step 2 isn’t all that it seems. Qiu is actively *going against* their true nature during Step 2 for one reason or another. My best guess would have to be that they feel they previously let their identity rely too heavily on the needs of the people around them, and that notion freaks them out. So even if, in a way, their true identity DOES revolve around what they can be for others, they also want to make sure there’s a real, individual, person in there somewhere. Maybe in a twisted and fucked up way you can suggest that it is in fact because our culture heavily celebrates and looks up to that kind of individuality. Like, we as a society can consider it an admirable quality to be an outcast for the things that make us unique. That could potentially be added motivation. But thatssssssss really pushing it kind of and I’m talking out of my ass a little bit. So I’ll leave it there. 🥱

Either way, we can conclude that in Step 2 Qiu is not at all a “completely different person,” I don’t really think that’s even possible, and tbh I hope people don’t believe that about them. But I do think that they are actively *trying* to be. Which is sooooo 3, in a way (I sound like an astrology girl heheh >:3) But yeah, as a young teen, you think you know you want a lot of things. And then when you grow up, you realize that’s not what you actually wanted in the first place.

Side tangent, this is also why I loveee the idea of playing the game with jealousy/envy turned on for Qiu. I just feel like it’s so natural to their arc, but that’s just my own personal interpretation/preference.

But anyway, that’s how I came to my conclusion, Qiu is an enneagram 3w2!

Conclusion:

Let me once again reiterate that this is literally pseudoscience, so there isn’t an end all be all. You could totally think I was wrong and have your own ideas, and we could all totally be wrong and right and the same time together. I just do this stuff for fun, cause I think it’s cool and interesting and helps me better understand both my favorite characters in fiction and the viewpoints of people completely different from me ^_^

If you read this, I honestly CANNOT thank you enough, seriously. Because wow this post was crazy and long and insane and insanely crazy long. And I feel like I’m really bad and disorganized when it comes to explaining things. But I appreciate it if you did take an interest! I hope you were entertained and learned something new.

Qiu was specifically requested, and this post is long enough as it is. And that’s without all the beta and patreon stuff, which then we could be here for hours getting into the nitty gritty details. But anyway, I would love to do a separate analysis on Tamarack’s enneagram next. Though spoiler alert, her’s will be a lot moreeeee theoretical and hard to explain T~T I’m sure that would be super fun for me to attempt though HAHA. So if you’d be interested in that, let me know! And if you wouldn’t, too bad because I’ll probably do it anyway!

(PS. I tried to make sure not to give away anything directly related to content only included in the patreon. But, if I made a mistake, please let me know and I will edit it out of the post immediately!)

My references:

#Ame rants about shit only she cares about #Ame is Nuts #typology #enneagram #Qiu Lin #olnf #our life now and forever

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moleshow · 4 months ago

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honest to god, what should i read to better understand economics? last time i seriously studied it was when i was 16, and my major had nothing to do with it. sorry if it’s a bit dumb but it seems you know a lot, and i of course don’t

(economically illiterate anon, LOL): I forgot to say, but it’d be best if it was somewhat targeted towards US policies, particularly those that Trump adopts, because I keep seeing many experts, and you, claim he is going to crash the economy, but I live in a red state, so I haven’t met any other local IRL who thinks so… Everyone praises Reagan and talks of how he “saved us” and all the “progress” and etc, and I know it’s bullshit, because I do know history, but I still don’t understand the economic policies themselves, and why they are irredeemable, for lack of a better word.

not dumb! i do have a post to this effect (sort of) right here with books that i will also link here. i've elaborated on which of those works might be useful to you after the cut down below.

the predictions of a crash have to do with a couple of different elements. some of the Big Ones, in my view, are as follows (not taking into account industry-specific problems or we would be here all day):

there are not enough private sector jobs to make up for the mass layoffs in the federal government. cuts to federal spending in other forms (e.g., NIH research grants) reduce employment in industries that money was funding. both of these factors drive unemployment up and aggregate demand down. people who don't have money coming in spend less, so there's likely going to be a ripple effect on employment from that as businesses dependent upon that spending close. we get the february jobs numbers on friday, folks, so keep an eye out. furthermore, the DOGE business is at least partly contributing to weakening consumer confidence so you'll likely see people holding back on big purchases.

the way this administration conducts itself is erratic, unpredictable, and generally unsound. companies do not like this. it is difficult to make purchasing decisions when you can't be sure whether an import is going to cost 25% more tomorrow than it did today. for firms exporting to countries hitting us with reciprocal tariffs, their costs just went up. because some goods bounce across borders a few times before they're finished products, they're getting dinged multiple times. additionally, there's real hesitancy when it comes to any business dealing with federal dollars now because it's not guaranteed that funds promised will actually go out. you can click here and hear (read) most of this stuff straight from the horse's mouth.

when you have a sustained period of high unemployment and stagnant or negative economic growth, what you end up with is a problem--one that tax cuts cannot fix.

of these works i think the frieden, stein, and rivoli are probably going to be the most useful for you, as well as the reinert section on international trade but especially the chapters on the political economy of trade (ch. 5), trade policy analysis (ch. 6), and on crises and responses (ch. 18).

none of these works are specifically about trump's policies but i will explain their relevance. the reinert is good to give you a foundation in thinking and talking about international trade--that'll give you the background to understand what's sort of at play.

the frieden will give you a historical view on the development of our current financial system and how previous recessions/depressions occurred, and the section at the end on the "trilemma" outlines how monetary policy involves a lot of tradeoffs. but this stuff matters for illustrating how the US is economically load-bearing and how it became that way

the stein is useful for looking at steel because that is an industry which trump has paid a good deal of lip service to, so it's worth getting a sense of what exactly happened to the industry in the US and what it takes to actually incentivize domestic production (spoiler: you need government spending and finely tuned trade policies). this is something also addressed in stein's lecture on c-span, which also touches on the economic situation leading up to reagan's election (particularly from 1:27:00 onward)

finally, the rivoli book helps illustrate (using garment production as an example) how supply chains operate on an international scale.

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duxbelisarius · 4 months ago

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Back to the Dance Part Four: Naval Warfare

Thanks for reading so far! Here's the new master post if this is your first time encountering this series!

From the battles on land we now shift our focus to the war at sea; this is a topic I covered in the original series and in my Velaryon Blockade analysis, although I hope the quality of this analysis will be closer to the latter than the former. The Dance only features two theaters in which naval forces play any sort of role, the Narrow Sea and the Sunset Sea, so our focus will be on House Velaryon and the Ironborn. I'll scrutinize the the organization of their fleets and the ships they command based on how well they reflect the Medieval and Early Modern settings which inspired George. Scale is a significant problem here, but a lot of it comes down to the story having no perspective of what is achievable for these factions given the technology at their disposal.

Before analyzing the Velaryon and Ironborn fleets and their actions in the Dance, it's important that we understand how the term 'sea power' has been conceptualized in the past and whether such theories have any applicability to the setting. The Velaryon Blockade analysis was in many ways responsible for my deciding to re-analyze the Dance, as researching pre-modern naval warfare showed me that my frame of reference was completely wrong. I spent part 2 of the original series speculating about fleet sizes and critiquing the tactics of the one naval battle we get in the story, but this was a pointless exercise in retrospect. I threw out a basic definition of the term sea power without demonstrating what it entailed in terms of resources and strategy, or asking if a modern definition of sea power was even relevant to a Medieval/Early Modern context like Westeros. To remedy this error, I'll give a brief precis of the tenets of sea power and naval strategy as defined by Alfred Thayer Mahan (1840-1914), the great American naval theorist of the 19th and 20th centuries, based on John Hattendorf's essay "Theories of Naval Power: A. T. Mahan and the Naval History of Medieval and Renaissance Europe." This will allow us to better assess the capabilities of Westerosi fleets, and it also has some relevance to the subject of Part Five in this series, dragons.

i. Sea Power, Mahan-Style

To call Alfred Thayer Mahan influential would be a gross understatement: The Influence of Sea Power upon History and its successor about the wars of the French Revolution and Napoleon cast a long shadow over the 20th century, through the writing and study of military history and the conduct of war itself. Nonetheless, Mahan's critics, supporters, and commentators have added much baggage to the man's reputation since he first published in 1890, and Hattendorf does an able job of capturing the fundamental principles. For Mahan, sea power was based on a combination of maritime economic and naval factors, the former concerning elements like production, shipping, and colonies while the latter was concerned with protecting a maritime economy using armed force at sea via naval supremacy (Hattendorf, "Theories of Naval Power," 8). Mahan identified other factors which determined the capacity to develop sea power, namely geographical position, the extent of one's territories, population size, national culture, political structures, and physical conformation factors such as natural resources and climate (Ibid.).

As regards the maritime economic and naval factors of sea power, Westeros and in particular Driftmark and the Iron Islands 'make the cut;' except for colonies, pretty much every kingdom possesses ports with shipbuilding facilities and merchant ships that contribute to the economy, while only Dorne and the North lack any real military capabilities at sea. The capacity factors for sea power are more uncertain: National culture isn't really a factor in this setting, but the Velaryons and Ironborn are both seafaring peoples with a culture and long history tied to it; political structures are a mixed bag, but the existence of the Royal Fleet in King's Landing and other major fleets that predate the conquest show that naval forces were and are taken seriously by political powers; geographical position is ostensibly favourable, since the Seven Kingdoms have ample coastline and the size of Westeros alone incentivizes the movement of people and goods by sea, the main issue being that Mahan wrote about coastal powers whereas the Iron Islands and Driftmark are islands; this in turn makes extent of territory and population size a problem, since Driftmark and the Iron Islands have small landmasses and lack the large populations of mainland ports such as Oldtown, Lannisport, and Gulltown; while physical conformation is the greatest obstacle by far, since the Iron Islands are cold and wet climate-wise with few forests, although F&B refers to Driftmark as "fertile." While some of Driftmark and the Iron Island's worldbuilding is a problem, Westeros as a whole possesses the basic building blocks of sea power from a Mahanian perspective.

The exercise of Mahanian sea power via naval strategy is where the Velaryons and Ironborn in particular are on shakier ground. For Mahan, naval strategy was dependent on a number of factors, starting with locations of strategic value: the geographical location of a place in relation to lines of communication and trade at sea, it's defensibility and potential to support offensives, and it's resources for survival (Ibid., 10). Mahan added an interrelated fourth criteria called strategic lines, meaning the ability of ships to travel from one location to another either by using an open sea route (typically the shortest) or by following friendly or neutral coastlines if the open sea was not an option (Ibid., 10-11). From here, the other factors necessary to naval strategy were a reasonably secure home frontier and a navy that could dispute the enemy's control of the sea, permitting distant operations in enemy waters and maritime expeditions to land troops in enemy territory, with the overall goal of driving away or drawing out the enemy fleet through threat of battle to destroy it and gain control of the seas (Ibid., 10-12).

Looked at purely from a Mahanian perspective, the locations of Driftmark and the Iron Islands are conducive to naval strategy, between Driftmark's location between Crackclaw Point and Massey's Hook and the Iron Islands being situated off the northern coast of the Westerlands at the mouth of Ironman's Bay. There are other worldbuilding aspects of the Velaryons which don't really make sense from the perspective of Mahanian naval strategy: According to HOTD, the Velaryons or at least Corlys Velaryon are the wealthiest house in Westeros prior to the Dance; in reality, F&B makes clear that Corlys' ninth voyage to Qarth brought back such wealth in spices and silk that their profits "briefly" eclipsed the wealth of House Lannister and Hightower. Nonetheless, F&B still claims that Driftmark and Spicetown began to draw traffic away from Duskendale and King's Landing owing to their closer proximity to the Narrow Sea. This doesn't really add up given that Driftmark is an island, meaning cargos cannot reach markets on land directly as they can from Blackwater Bay's western ports. Regarding resources for survival, we're again told that Driftmark is "fertile" but not much else, while we at least know the Iron Islands have grazing for animals like goats and fisheries to support the islands. Driftmark's home frontier is clearly the more secure, being near to Dragonstone and thus the Targaryen dragons, whereas the Iron Islands only saving grace is that neither the Riverlands nor the North possesses much strength at sea, otherwise the Westerlands and Reach possess the resources and wealth to maintain large fleets such as those of Lannisport, Oldtown, and the Arbor.

This is as far as Mahan can get us in this setting, since the instruments of naval strategy he envisioned, that is fleets and their ships, are very different from those in our setting. Mahan's Influence of Sea Power series focused on the period of 1660 through 1815, and was intended along with his other writings to encourage the development of a powerful US Navy in the 1890s and 1900s. The multi-decked, heavily armed ship-of-the-line was the foremost instrument of sea control in the times he wrote about, while the heavily armoured battleship was its successor in his own day and remained the chief instrument of sea control until after the Second World War, contrary to the popular belief that the aircraft carrier supplanted it (Tim Benbow has two great articles on this subject, though I recommend James FitzSimonds' "Aircraft Carriers versus Battleships in War and Myth" for the Journal of Military History). The warships of the Medieval and pre-1660 Early Modern Periods differed greatly in their capabilities, and this is the period we must look to for assessing the Velaryon and Ironborn fleets. The organization and composition of these fleets and Westerosi fleets in general indicates that Mahanian naval strategy via sea control is not viable in this setting, owing in no small part to how George envisions his warships.

ii. No money, no problem?

The foremost issues with the fleets of Westeros is that of the armies: No one seems to be paid outside of sellsails and private merchants. When the Small Council discusses the High Septon's attempts at abolishing brothels in King's Landing in Cersei VIII of AFFC, Cersei argues that the taxes on brothels "help pay the wages of my gold cloaks and build galleys to defend our shores," implying that the coin spent on the fleet goes towards the vessels themselves and not those serving on them. Similarly, when Theon joins his father's cause in Theon I and II of ACOK, he is advised on how to "choose" his crew with no suggestion that they will be paid either by himself or his father. The idea that the same, vague 'feudal obligations' used to mobilize Westerosi armies can be applied to large fleets in unworkable: in my discussion on twitter with Bret Devereaux and X user SzablaObr2023 (screenshots are in the Velaryon Blockade post), Szabla observed that sailors are generally long-service professionals whose skills are in-demand. Paying them for any length of service is non-negotiable, and their wages must be competitive otherwise they'll become merchantmen, pirates, or mercenaries. Since all three are viable options in Westeros, the Seven Kingdoms and it's noble houses cannot operate their fleets without paying wages to their sailors, marines, and officers.

Building and maintaining warships would certainly be costly, but paying and provisioning the crews and replacing them if need be would add a whole other level of expenses. As an example, Edward III of England assembled 371 ships between July 1338 and May 1340 for his Low Countries campaign at the start of the Hundred Years War; his wardrobe books indicate that just over £382000 was spent on 291 ships to transport his army and its supplies and 80 support vessels (Bryce Lyon, "The infrastructure and purpose of an English medieval fleet in the first phase of the Hundred Years' War," 65-66). 12263 masters, constables, sailors, pages, clerks, and carpenters were remunerated to the tune of £4797 for ferrying 2720 earls, bannerets, knights, squires, men-at-arms, and hobelars, 5550 mounted and dismounted archers, over 500 members of the king and queen's household, and 4614 horses across the channel (Ibid., 66). Adjusted for inflation, it cost £465 million or $590.5 million USD to maintain a fleet which was gathered from across the kingdom, the bulk of the ships being privately held as only 14 were the king's ships (Ibid., 71).

The Ironborn are closer to historical precedent than the other Westerosi fleets, as it appears to be superficially derived from the 'leding' systems of Scandinavia. This system existed in varying forms in Sweden, Denmark, and Norway during the Early and High Middle Ages, requiring their populations to contribute towards maintaining and manning ships, either partially for those with lower incomes or fully for the wealthy. The Ironborn's aesthetic was clearly inspired by the 'vikings' and it makes sense that a similar system for providing longships and their crews would exist on the Iron Islands. However, as with the 'feudal obligations' for land forces we discussed in Part Three, the 'leding' was primarily a defensive organization intended to ward off foreign raiders and invasion; only Denmark appears to have allowed for expeditio or offensive military operations, and that could only be invoked once every four years per the 13th century Law of Skåne (Niels Lund, "Naval Power in the Viking Age and in High Medieval Denmark," 30). Beyond this allotted time period, Danish rulers were required to persuade their magnates and lords to provide forces for any foreign operations, just like their Swedish and Norwegian neighbours (Ibid., 31-32).

iii. You're rowing the wrong way!

When it comes to the ships of the Velaryon and Ironborn fleets, there are similarly glaring problems with the oared vessels or galleys in particular. While the Velaryons also operate sailing ships, I'll discuss those types in the context of the Ironborn since they have special relevance to their worldbuilding problems. We have pretty good information regarding the composition of the Velaryon fleet: When Alyn Velaryon sets out for the Stepstones in 133 AC, we're told the Velaryon fleet assembled '60 war galleys, 30 longships, and over 100 cogs and great cogs,' or over 190 ships. We know that the Gullet cost the Velaryon fleet almost a third of it's ships, and 7 ships were lost escorting the Gay Abandon, placing the fleet at c.292 ships at least in 129 AC, the actual number probably being just over 300. As we've already seen, Edward III's fleet numbered 371 ships in 1340 drawn from across England, meaning the Velaryon fleet is almost 80% that size. For further comparison, per John E. Dotson's essay "Economics and Logistics of Galley Warfare," the wars between Venice and Genoa from 1250 to 1352 saw the latter city assemble over 150 ships for it's fleet in 1295 while the former assembled over 200 ships in 1293 (Dotson, "Economics and Logistics," 223). Those fleets were exceptional, with fleet sizes in other years ranging between just over 100 to just over 50 ships, subsidized wholly or in part by government funds (Ibid). For an island as small and lacking in natural resources as Driftmark, a fleet of over 300 ships is almost impossibly large.

From the description we have of the Battle of the Gullet, it appears that the galleys of the Velaryon fleet had the worst of the fighting, meaning its composition at the start of the Dance was probably 50/50 oared to pure sailing vessels, if not more on the side of oars. When it comes to portraying galleys in the series, George is hampered by two major misconceptions: how oarsmen are placed on the ships and how many oars are used; and the role of ramming in naval warfare. George uses the number of oars, number of decks, and number of 'banks' in a way that seems to imitate the number of decks and guns used to classify sailing warships in the Age of Sail. Thus in the prologue of ACOK, Lord Stannis's Fury is described as a 'triple-decked' war galley of 300 oars; Sam refers to the Honor of Oldtown as "Lord Hightower's four-decked banner ship" in Sam V of AFFC; Arya describes the Wind Witch as a "sleek three-banked trading galley" in Arya V of AGOT; and the Braavosi warship Grand Defiance which Alyn Velaryon sinks in the Stepstones is described as a "towering Braavosi dromond of 400 oars."

This isn't how galleys worked at all, although in fairness to George his misconceptions were widely held prior to the 20th century. As Michael Pitassi notes in Hellenistic Naval Warfare and Warships 336-30 BC, Classical sources mention no more than three classes of rower (called thranite, zygite and thalamite from top to bottom) nor do we have any iconography suggesting more than three horizontal levels or remes of rowers on classical galleys (Pitassi, Hellenistic Naval Warfare, 97). This means that designations higher than trireme referred not to the number of remes but to the number of rowers manning the oars in a vertical 'group'; thus a 'five' was a trireme with it's thranite and zygite oars double-manned (2+2+1=5). Oars are also unworkable at an operating angle of more than 30 degrees, meaning that while oars could be up to 17.4m in length as with the thranite oars on Ptolemy IV's massive 'Forty,' the height of most polyreme galleys was limited compared to pure sailing ships (Ibid., 97-101). Just to demonstrate how far off George's conceptualizations are, the Grand Defiance has the same number of oars as the 'Forty,' the largest galley known to have been built and which never put to sea, let alone saw battle. Similarly, the term 'four-decker' used for Honor of Oldtown properly applies to ships-of-the-line which have four gun decks; only three such vessels were ever built, Santísima Trinidad, Pennsylvania, and Valmy, with Santísima Trinidad being the only one to see naval combat.

The other issue with the portrayal of galleys is their use of ramming tactics, which were not used by the Byzantine dromons and Venetian galleys that George claims were his inspirations, but this appears to be an honest mistake. The naval rams in the books are described as being iron, whereas rams in classical antiquity were made from bronze; John Pryor notes in Age of the Dromon that Medieval and Early Modern galleys did carry an iron device called a spur on their prows, but this was misinterpreted by R. H. Dolley in 1948 as being a ram (Pryor, Age of the Dromon, 204). Unlike the waterline ram of Graeco-Roman galleys, which was built as an integral part of the keel and stempost with the stempost being straight and reinforced, the spur was attached by chains or coupling to the stempost which was raked upwards like that of a merchant vessel (Ibid., 136-140). Combined with the long, thin design of the spur compared to the flat, hammer-like design of the waterline ram, this indicates the spur was not designed for a head-on impact with the opponent's hull. Instead, Medieval sources indicate the spur's job was to allow the galley to ride up and over the opponent's oars, smashing them and immobilizing the enemy galley to allow it to be boarded (Ibid., 143-144).

Naval ramming was possible in the Mediterranean of antiquity because ships were constructed 'shell first,' using mortises cut into the planks or strakes of the hull to insert tenons which were held in place with wooden pegs, allowing the strakes to be held together edge-to-edge (Ibid., 145). Rams were likely designed to shatter the waterline wale (i.e. the out planks of the hull near or below the water) or cause it to flex markedly, dislodging frames and tearing loose the mortise and tenon joints, causing the planks to split down the middle and resulting in the hull rapidly flooding (Ibid., 145-146). The preference for lighter softwoods in Mediterranean shipbuilding also facilitated this; by contrast, shell-first construction in Northern Europe was based on the 'clinker' tradition where the strakes overlapped and were held together by iron nails, the preference being for hard woods and oak in particular. Julius Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic War reports that the Gallic ships built in this way were impervious to ramming, and the shift from mortise and tenon to 'frame first' or Carvel construction in the Medieval Mediterranean likewise cancelled out the effectiveness of naval ramming, which seems to have disappeared in Late Antiquity (Ibid., 146-147).

Byzantine dromons and Venetian galleys were much closer to the galleys of 100-200 oars or less mentioned in the books. At the height of its usage during the Macedonian Dynasty of the Byzantine Empire, the dromon was a bireme galley with one reme of oars above deck and one below, with each side having 25 single-manned oars (Pryor, "Byzantium and the Sea," 85-86). The dromon had an overall length of 31.25 meters with a deadweight tonnage of 25 tonnes; 2 triangular Lateen sails assisted with propulsion while the crew numbered 150 men, of which 108 were the ousia or rowing crew (Ibid.). A siphon or greek fire projector was mounted below the forecastle in the dromon's prow, while castles were also located around the foremast for missile troops to man during battle (Pryor, Age of the Dromon, 203-205). The Byzantines also operated a smaller vessel with a single mast called the galea, from which the term 'galley' is derived and whose design would inspire the later galleys of the Venetians and other powers in the western Mediterranean (Pryor, "Byzantium," 86).

The galleys that eventually replaced the dromon differed little from it in size, the key difference being how they were rowed: the oarsmen were now located entirely above deck, and were seated side-by-side on angled benches with each rowing their own oar in a style that became known as alla senzile (Pryor, Age of the Dromon, 430). This style co-existed with another that eventually replaced it, a scaloccio, which used a single heavy oar instead of individual, lighter oars and could be rowed by as many as 5-7 oarsmen at one oar (Mauro Bondioli et al, "Oar Mechanics and Oar Power in Medieval and later Galleys," 191-192). George's multi-decked galleys would face the severe challenge of supplying air to the rowers and keeping them cool owing to the heat, CO2, and sweat produced by the oarsmen at work, a problem which Medieval galleys solved by placing their oarsmen above deck (Pryor, Age of the Dromon, 435, 443). This also freed up space in the hold of the galley to carry more personnel and supplies, and to accommodate ballast to stabilize the galley in rough conditions. The greater power of the new rowing methods allowed for larger galleys to be built, with three-sailed, trireme alla senzile galleys being used as merchant vessels for voyages between Venice and Flanders in the 15th century (Ulrich Alertz, "The Naval Architecture and Oar Systems of Medieval and later Galleys," 158-159).

iv. Like the Vikings, except they suck

We'll discuss galley performance more when we come back to the question of sea control, but I want to cover the Ironborn and their ships first, as well as the importance of sailing ships. George seems to believe that the Ironborn longships are based off the iconic 'Viking' longships of Early Medieval Europe, but the descriptions we get do not support this. The one good description we have of a 'longship' comes from Theon II of ACOK, in which a new longship is described as 100 feet long with a single mast and 50 oars, with deck enough for 100 men and an arrowhead-like iron ram on it's prow. This ship cannot be one of the galleys of the Iron Fleet, as Theon mentions it is not so large as Balon's Great Kraken or Victarion's Iron Victory. It's length and rigging is almost identical to that of Skuldelev 2, the great longship discovered by archaeologists in the Roskilde Fjord of Denmark in 1962, which had a single mast and a length of 98.5 feet (Owain Roberts, "Descendants of Viking Boats," 15). On the other hand, the deck space of Skuldelev 2 seems to have been limited to elevated decks on the bow and stern (Ibid., 19), and since 'Viking' ships never carried rams, the 'longships' of the Ironborn come off more as small, monoreme war galleys. This also appears to be how Ironborn 'longships' looked in the past, since Dalton Greyjoy was able to sink 25% of the ships in Lannisport harbour and was later prepared to meet Alyn Velaryon's fleet in battle, indicating his ships also had rams.

The problem with this 'longship' design is that it is very poorly suited to the tasks the Ironborn carry out during the Dance. I already alluded to the vulnerability of the Ironborn to the autumn and winter weather in Part Two of this series, but I must stress that the distances the Ironborn cover in the conditions they should be facing are simply unfeasible. For Dalton's surprise raid on Lannisport to work, he would need to avoid the coast and travel on the open sea; using Atlas of Ice and Fire's map scale, the distance as the crow flies from Pyke to Lannisport via Feastfires looks to be 650 miles (1000km), and avoiding the coast would probably push this to 700-800 miles (c.1127-1287 km). By comparison, Norse sailings to North America via the Greenland-Iceland-UK gap traveled along the coast whenever they could, sticking to Greenland's shore at the end and following Baffin Island down to Newfoundland, a journey of about 700 to 800 nautical miles or c.1300-1500km. Dalton's journey would be shorter than traveling from Norway to North America by a few hundred kilometers, but he'd be making it at the wrong time of year (autumn-winter, not summer), and in the wrong kind of boat. 'Longships,' like galleys, were best suited to shallow waters while sailing vessels called knarrs were used for travelling the open seas and voyaging from Europe to North America. Funnily enough, this illustrates Mahan's point about strategic lines quite well: the fastest and safest route to strike at Lannisport would be the coastal one through the Straits of Fair Isle, but since this would make surprise impossible Dalton would have to take a longer route via the open sea and risk losing most if not all his ships to the adverse weather.

This brings us to sailing ships, which have a serious advantage over galleys thanks to their freeboard, i.e. the distance between the waterline and the gunwale of a boat. As Timothy Runyan notes in his essay "The Cog as Warship," the Bremen Cog was 4.2 meters high from keel to gunwale amidships compared to 1.9 meters for the Gokstad Ship, a longship some 20 feet shorter than Skuldelev 2 (Runyan, "Cog as Warship," 50). Their actual freeboard would have been shorter, but the Cog would still have been much better served than the 'longship.' When it comes to the sailing ships used during the Dance, we know that the Velaryon fleet had cogs and 'great cogs' under it's command, and Alyssa Farman's ship Sun Chaser was a four-masted carrack built in 54-55 AC, although no carracks are mentioned in the context of the Dance. Carracks were the largest ships of the Late Medieval and Early Modern periods, first appearing in the mid-to-late 14th century and eventually giving rise to 'Great Ships' like Sweden's Vasa and England's Mary Rose. They were generally three or four-masted ships, with wide and deep hulls in keeping with F&B's description of Sun Chaser, and tended towards a minimum of 300-400 tonne capacity (Ian Friel, "The Carrack: The advent of the Fully-Rigged Ship," 85). Cogs were flat-bottomed one-masted ships and were much smaller than carracks in general; my guess is that the 'great cog' is reminiscent of the Genoese cocha, a Mediterranean derivative of the cog which later gave rise to the carrack, and probably has two masts instead of one.

The problem that sailing ships represent for the Ironborn is that galleys have a very poor 'match up' against them historically. In his essay "The New Atlantic: Naval Warfare in the Sixteenth Century," N.A.M. Rodgers notes that because boarding actions were the dominant form of naval combat in the Late Medieval Period, "the size of sailing ships gave them an overwhelming advantage over galleys, with their exposed crews and low freeboard" (Rodgers, "New Atlantic," 244). An excellent example of this mismatch was the Danish siege of Stockholm from 1389 to 1394, when Queen Margaret's armies and longships surrounded and blockaded the city but the cogs of the Victual Brothers ran the blockade and kept the defenders supplied (Alex Querengasser, "Klaus Störtebeker and the Victual Brotherhood," 13). These asymmetries meant that galleys and ships were used for different purposes, the former being employed in coastal operations, raids, and landings where their shallow draught gave them an advantage, whereas the latter were used to cross open seas and carry large quantities of troops and supplies, as well as for engaging other ships (Ibid.). This situation only really changed at the beginning of the 16th century, when cannons capable of sinking ships were developed and galleys mounted them on their bows, enabling them to target ships close to their waterlines (Rodgers, "New Atlantic," 244-245). The Ironborn need proper sailing ships to conduct raids over long distances and in rough seas as they do in the Dance, but aside from prizes and fishing vessels they rely entirely on 'longships' whose designs are unsuited for this.

v. Whither the Velaryon blockade

Now that we have an idea of the vessels available to our fleets during the Dance, we can return to Mahanian naval strategy and the question of sea control. Sea control doesn't really factor into the Ironborn due to their warfare relying mostly on raiding, but it absolutely does for the Velaryon fleet. Although I've covered the Velaryon Blockade already, I want to return to the subject by answering two questions: Is it possible for the Velaryons to 'control' entry and egress through the Gullet; and is Otto's plan to enlist the Triarchy to break the blockade workable? If we allow that Mahanian sea power can be applied conceptually to the setting, does this mean that Mahanian naval strategy via sea control is realizable with the tools available to the setting?

F&B takes it for granted that the Gullet blockade is possible: the Velaryon fleet gives Rhaenyra "superiority at sea" while Daemon asserts that only through winning over the Ironborn could Aegon mount a challenge at sea; the Black Council decides that the Velaryon fleet will "close off the Gullet" blocking all traffic "entering or leaving Blackwater Bay," and the Sea Snake's ships set sail after Rhaenyra's coronation "to close the Gullet, choking off trade to and from King's Landing." 'Command of the sea' was a recognized concept in classical antiquity, with N.A.M Rodger noting that something like 'sea control' was a feature of the wars between Venice and Genoa in the High and Late Middle Ages and in the Baltic naval wars of the mid-16th century, but this was unusual in Europe prior to the 17th century (Rodgers, "New Atlantic," 237). John Dotson provides details on the wars of Venice and Genoa in "The Economics and Logistics of Galley Warfare," accepting that galley fleets could not drive an enemy from the seas or blockade ports in the style of the Royal Navy during the 18th and 19th centuries, while dominating one or more entrepôts like the Black Sea, the eastern Mediterranean shore, or Alexandria was beyond the economic and naval capabilities of any Medieval sea power (Dotson, "Economics and Logistics," 218).

Nonetheless, the wars of Venice and Genoa showed that some kind of control could be exerted thanks to the combination of the Mediterranean's geography, winds, and currents, which created focal points around islands and coastal routes where shipping could be intercepted from bases, with the 'closing of the sea' in autumn placing even greater importance on these routes at specific times (Ibid.). Dotson calculates a 150km radius for galleys operating at their extreme operational endurance, allowing for 4-7 days at sea with 2-3 being the case for a round trip (Ibid.). Dotson's findings are of no use to the Velaryons however, thanks to the geography and weather of the Gullet in 129-130 AC: using Atlas' map scale, the Gullet looks to be c.70-80 miles (c.113-129km) wide from High Tide to Sharp Point, making it just under Dotson's radius, but since galleys would usually put in to shore at night, the range of Velaryon galleys drops to less than 30km with nothing but open waters between High Tide and Sharp Point; Dotson is also analyzing Venetian and Genoese operations that would have taken place in-season, whereas the Velaryons are mounting a blockade in autumn when the conditions would probably be too dangerous for galleys to operate; Dotson is also talking about coastal shipping routes, while 'closing off the Gullet' would be unnecessary if all that was needed was to intercept coastal shipping around Driftmark and Sharp Point, which means the galleys and 'longships' of the Velaryons can be of no assistance for intercepting ships sailing the open waters of the Gullet itself.

As I concluded in the Velaryon Blockade analysis, the cogs and great cogs of the Velaryon fleet are the only vessels they have that could even attempt a blockade of the Gullet, meaning they can only employ half or less of their fleet for the blockade. We also don't know of any specific shipping lanes within the Gullet itself, meaning that even if the cogs and great cogs could remain 'on station' in an area like the warships of the 18th century, the absence of any lanes to intercept combined with the inclement weather would further rule out the blockade. If the battle line of Stannis' fleet at the Battle of the Blackwater is any indication, sailing ships also seem to be used more as transports and supply ships than as actual warships. For the Velaryons to do anything, we'd no longer be talking about a blockade but 'sea-keeping missions' as they were called in the context of the Hundred Years War, which involved trying to apprehend enemy ships by patrolling with ships of one's own (Timothy Runyan, "Naval Power during the Hundred Years War," 66). Even then, some of the over 100 cogs and great cogs would need to remain in port to act as replacements for damaged or lost ships and to allow ships the opportunity to drydock, which would give blockade runners ample opportunities to escape the Bay thanks to the transient nature of the Velaryons mission. The seasons create further problems, since shorter days will make visual navigation difficult while overcast skies will render navigating using the moon and stars almost impossible. This is why Planetos needs the compass for navigation, as China had by the 11th century and Europe and the Middle East by the 12th-13th centuries; the word itself appears just once in the prologue of ACOK, but it must be present if George expects anyone to be travelling by sea at all in the winter.

It simply isn't possible for the Velaryons to blockade the Gullet, let alone exercise Mahanian sea control over it's waters, and Otto's plan involving the Triarchy fairs no better. The distance from Tyrosh to High Tide looks to be over 750 miles (c.1200km) as the crow flies, and since F&B's description of the Battle of the Gullet suggests most if not all the Triarchy warships were galleys, this plan runs into the same distance problems as the Velaryons. Their reliance on galleys rules out traveling the open sea, which means the Triarchy fleet would have to take a coastal route either north towards Old Andalos and then crossing over to Crackclaw Point, or west to Cape Wrath before coasting via Shipbreaker Bay or more likely Tarth, entering the Gullet from the south via Massey's Hook. Once again the setting inadvertently supplies us another example of the importance of strategic lines: since the shortest, most direct route via the open sea is unavailable, the Triarchy must rely on coastal routes that would bring them into contact with those sympathetic to Rhaenyra's cause, either the Pentoshi or Houses Tarth, Massey, and Bar-Emmon, spoiling their surprise attack even without the heroics of Aegon III and Stormcloud. Of course those routes would probably also rule out running into the Gay Abandon, so the entire Narrow Sea plot of the Dance ends up null and void, let alone the Velaryon blockade.

vi. Conclusion

I'll once again save the bulk of the 'fix-its' for the sections on strategy in the Dance (just two more parts to go, I promise!). Nevertheless, reining in the scale would go a long ways towards making things more believable; it's too late to pay the sailors as it is for the soldiers, but keeping the ships believable would be the best route to take. If anything, relying on fantasy polyremes was unnecessary if George wanted to have fantastic ships in his setting: the Venetians operated an alla senzile quinquereme or 'five' in the mid-16th century (i.e. five men to a bench rowing five oars), and Henry V's warship Grace Dieu was as large as HMS Victory despite being built in the 15th century! Otherwise I suggest re-reading the Velaryon Blockade post for my 'fix-its' there, as they'll be relevant later on in this series; with that being said, thank you once again for reading and I'll see you next time for 'Dragon Warfare'!

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #asoiaf critical #grrm #grrm critical #fire and blood #fire and blood critical #corlys velaryon #alyn velaryon #dalton greyjoy

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gold-onthe-inside · 2 months ago

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first author

who? spencer reid (s2) x piper bishop (oc) summary: white flags that were raised for the sake of research between the bitter rivalry of dr reid and dr bishop bleed red with war when spencer insists he ought to be first author content warnings: slightly ooc spencer (but i think he can be bitter, especially post-hankel), research jargon thrown around, rivals, a little swearing, ambiguous ending word count: 1.2k author's note: written on request of anon, had this in my head for a while, just simmering away, but here you go <3 enjoy; dividers courtesy of @/saradika-graphics; find more oc work here

Superordinate goals are meant to unite two opposing populations; or at least that’s what social psychology said. Spencer could recite the Robbers Cave experiment from the original paper if anyone asked him to, not that anyone would, and for what it was worth, it had worked.

For the duration of the project Piper had asked him to help with, their arguments had whittled down to the project itself, making them infinitely more tolerable to be around. More often than not, it was constructive arguments going on until 3am over how to code their interview transcripts, identifying themes from their data, interrupted by productive beats of poring over transcripts. It had been a side-project that had taken up most of their free time for 9 months, one that had finally been sent for peer review.

And then he’d seen the order of the names being submitted. Bishop, Piper; Reid, Spencer (2007). “You’re first author?” he demanded, throwing the hard copy of their paper on the table in front of her as she looked up from her tea, taking a break from case-work.

“What?” she asked, brow knitting, not in confusion over the order, but by the distress emanating from his tall, lanky figure.

“You’re first author,” he repeated, and JJ, who had been to go get a refill of coffee, immediately sensed their tense dispute, casually spinning on her heel to head back to the group of desks at the other end of the bullpen.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” she murmured to Emily, ever ready to gossip about the team.

Meanwhile, Piper sat up straighter, putting her tea down. “Yeah, I wrote it alphabetically,” she said, shrugging and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“I don’t believe that,” Spencer told her, using his height to intimidate her, as if that would work. To her, he was as intimidating as a horsefly. Tall and dark-eyed, but ultimately harmless.

“You don’t have to,” Piper replied, crossing her arms, with a nonchalance that was infuriating. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. B comes before R, sing the song and check if you like.”

“I’m not going to sing— Why do you have to take everything from me?” he asked, his voice rising an octave.

“I’m not taking anything—”

“I’m the one who read hundreds of papers for the literature review, I easily transcribed more interviews than you did—”

“That were handwritten, I had to retype everything—”

“Which is a lot easier than transcribing data, let’s be honest,” he interrupted, watching Piper stand up to square off with him, a foot shorter than him in a way that took the wind out of her defiance.

“I’m the one who conducted all of the interviews,” Piper countered, “and did the thematic analysis—”

“Well, I would have had more to do if we used a more quantitative method,” he countered, his voice heated and Piper groaned.

“Oh my God, we didn’t have a cause-effect hypothesis, Spencer, or the backing to form one, you think I used qualititative analysis just to get back at you?”

“Hey!” Derek snapped at them, the two of them so absorbed in their argument that they never saw him coming. “Get a room and stop holding the kitchen hostage,” he told them both as they looked at him, startled by his interruption. He held up his and JJ’s mugs. “Some of us need our coffee fix to get our jobs done. You know, the thing we all come here to do so we get paid?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed red, Piper holding up her hands in surrender, stepping away so Derek could access the coffee pot. She took her mug of tea, intending to head to her desk when Spencer touched her arm to stop her. “This isn’t over,” he muttered and Piper rolled her eyes, sidling past him to get to her desk.

The fuse lights again on a night out, Emily having found them a nice and quiet bar with a pool table, and the slightest provocation has them lighting up at each other again, and they’re in exile over at the jukebox, Piper shaking her head as she went over her song choices, Spencer trying to defend the utility of his being first author.

“I just think it makes more sense, I mean, I’ve been in criminology way longer than you—”

“That’s not seriously your justification,” Piper retorted, almost laughing at him. “And for the record, I have way more publications than you in psychology anyway—”

“Probably because you hoard first authorship,” Spencer scoffed, almost childishly, and Piper’s jaw dropped at him, leaning against the jukebox to look at him.

“It’s hardly my fault that everyone I write with has last names that come after Bishop,” she retorted.

“That’s privilege, right there!”

“You’re a white male talking to me about privilege?” Piper retorted, raising her brow and he shut up, leaning back against the wall. She shook her head again, looking at the titles. “Besides, I’ve spent more time in academia, I have more visibility—”

“Then that’s just a self-perpetuating cycle,” Spencer countered, raising his shoulders like they were his hackles. “You’re first author more often, so you have more visibility, so you stay first author, so you accrue more visibility—”

“I get it,” Piper snapped, interrupting him, looking at him irritably. “But if we’re more likely to get published with my name as first author, isn’t that more important than your ego?”

“My ego?” Spencer retorted, his crossed arms dropping. “That’s rich coming from you, the way you flaunt your publication rates—”

“Yeah, because some of us don’t have an IQ and eidetic memory to brag about,” she countered, getting heated now, and Spencer huffed, shaking his head.

“Not this again,” he muttered.

“Yes, this again—”

“For God’s sake, Piper, you think I asked to be this way?” he demanded, almost shouting, sick of her accusations of being privileged with his intelligence. “How long are you gonna hold that against me? And for what, just to prove people like you more than me? Guess what, you don’t have to prove that! I’m not that socially incompetent!” And so, he left her by the jukebox, stalking off to the exit, out into the January snow, the door swinging closed behind him, while Piper bit her tongue, the rest of the team staring at her from the pool table.

She glanced at them, and scoffed at the way they instantly busied themselves over the game. She sullenly picked ‘God Save The Queen’ by the Sex Pistols before grabbing her things and Spencer’s, closing out their tabs and heading out to the curb to find him.

Spencer was standing in the corner, his hands cupped over his mouth and rubbing them, shoulders huddled over, and she walked over with his bag, scarf and coat. “Figured you might not want to head back in there,” she voiced. He took it, grateful inside, too prideful to say thank you. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he simply walked away once he’d grabbed her bag from her, his scarf hanging around his neck. “Shit,” she muttered.

It took a couple weeks for an email to come through from one of the journals they’d sent their article to for peer review, confirming that they would be published in the succeeding month’s issue of SAGE publications, Criminology and Criminal Justice, and when he opened the attachment, there it was:

The effectiveness of restorative justice programs: Perceptions of serial offenders. Reid, S; Bishop, P (2007)

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#spencer reid x oc #spencer reid #oc: dr piper bishop #my fics #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid rivals #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x oc

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midnightfantasiez · 2 years ago

Text

Watch It | Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: you were summoned to stop the crime spree of the renowned group The Boyz by hacking into one of the systems to retrieve information about a specified location before it's too late. what you did not expect was that their leader has been spying on every move you make from the shadows and eventually confronting you about it, which then turns into your biggest nightmare.

PAIRING: criminal Sangyeon x hacker f!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: kissing, petnames (sweetheart, baby, princess), mentions about violence/illegal business (stealing), size kink, voyeurism, dirty talk, public sex, rough sex, fingering, handjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, they went for rounds, mean dom! Sangyeon

WORD COUNT: 3,235

A/N: let me explain. it was the ✨stare✨ from the concept pic itself that gave me ideas for this fic 😭 huge thanks to my bubba @juyeonszn for beta reading this & convincing me to change my theme ily forever 🥺💜 also shoutout to @daisyvisions @snowflakewhispers for fueling me with ideas / validating my horniness oops— (but ily both so much 😘)

“Agent Y/N, are you in position?”

“Yes, sir. I am waiting for the right moment to jump into the enemy’s territory.”

With one click on the earpiece, you immediately turned off the buzzing sound from the headquarters as you needed to focus and ensure that you were all alone and secure as you entered the place of interest.

As you flung your backpack onto your back, you quietly peeked through the few trucks parked in the parking lot right outside the abandoned building. Given that your job was to hack into the system and you needed good internet service, conducting it outdoors would be much more ideal than inside the building itself.

You and your team received a transmission hours ago about how this group of individuals has been conducting illegal business, such as stealing information from multiple laboratories—specifically ones located on the outskirts of Seoul to avoid detection and arrest. According to your team’s analysts, they have also discovered how they had been stealing chemical solutions that were pretty much hazardous to the public, and god knows whatever they will be using them for.

In other words, they are a pretty suspicious gang, and someone has to look into their spree of crimes before things get out of control. Being one of the best hackers on the team, you were sent to the actual location to hack into their system as best as you could.

So here you were, in the depths of the night, staking out the parking lot alone, hoping that all goes well and that you can quickly do the job and get out of there as soon as possible. Frankly, it all felt super eerie, especially when it was this late at night, and there weren’t many street lamps to provide enough light to make you feel safe by yourself.

After looking thoroughly and confirming with your eyes that you were alone, you slowly moved towards the multiple trucks parked in the middle of the parking lot. You managed to squeeze yourself through them and get to a well-lit area; that was when you finally took your laptop out of your backpack and started hacking away.

To the best of your abilities, you were able to sneak into the laboratory’s system fairly quickly, and you ran over their live security camera footage to check if the criminals were within the building. Immediately, the security camera footage popped up on the screen, and you could quickly identify several men scattered throughout the different labs within the facility.

“They were probably looking for the right chemical, " you thought, as they were all split up and divided into three groups in each laboratory. While they were trying to find the liquid, you had to quickly hack into the database to retrieve all of the information regarding the facility and the chemicals produced over the years and quickly send them back to your headquarters for analysis.

After about 10 minutes of transferring all of the files, it was time for you to get out of there and return to let the other agents that were on their way to take over and confront the criminals themselves. You weren’t a field agent, so you couldn’t do much physical combat against the criminals themselves. As much as you wanted to, you weren’t ready for your title as an agent to be stripped off you anytime soon; hence respecting the laws and just doing as you were told would be the wisest decision for now.

You quickly phoned the headquarters, letting them know you had retrieved all the necessary documents and would finally return to report. As you were permitted to do so, you got up and were going to keep all of your belongings back in your backpack until one of the security cameras began flashing.

You quickly got back down again, trying to see what was happening. That was when you remembered a crucial detail.

According to the information you guys have had so far, you knew that the group of criminals consisted of 11 members, so you decided to do a headcount one by one on the screen, starting from 1 to 11.

“8…9…and 10.”

10?

Someone was missing, but who?

Just then, a deep husky voice broke you off from your attention on the screen, and you looked around to see where it was coming from. Finally, you landed your eyes towards one of the vehicles right across you, and there he was—one of the criminals sitting right on top of the truck with both his legs spread wide apart, looking down towards you.

“Aren’t you pretty good at your job, sweetheart?”

Oh no. You were busted.

“U-umm…sorry…it’s just that…I was supposed to write a report regarding this facility, so I am here to look around.”

“At this hour? Close to midnight? I highly doubt that, princess.”

Immediately, he hopped down from the vehicle in one swift movement and began approaching you slowly. You instinctively shut your laptop, hugged it close to your chest, and backed away.

“I-I’m sorry! It seems I came at the wrong time! I will take my leave now, then. I’m sorry to have disrupted you!” You bowed down profusely before turning your heel and tried to run as quickly as you could until he grabbed your wrist and pulled it upwards, turning back in his direction.

There was this smug yet dangerous look on his face, contradicting the pure and innocent look he had on before. That sent a chill up your spine, and you quickly gulped before he slowly pushed you till your back finally hit against one of the trucks. You closed your eyes upon the impact and elicited a quiet yelp with his movement.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers lift your chin, and he commanded you to open your eyes to look straight at him.

“Now sweetheart, we weren’t done having our little fun conversation yet, were we? It breaks my heart that you decided to take off running before we even started.”

You were panicking as his grip slightly tightened around your wrist, pushing it back against the truck, signalling that you would be dead meat if you tried something funny again next time. You were stuck, and there was no way you could ring the headquarters as that would blow up your cover and the location of the base of operations.

The only thing you could do was to pray that the field agents would make their way over to you soon until you heard a mild static and a voice calling through the earpiece.

“T-there isn’t much ser-service here, b-but we will be sli-slightly late d-due to the he-heavy traffic. H-hang in t-there, a-agent Y/N! W-we’ll surely be c-coming—”

And then it all went silent.

Your only hope was lost, as the enemy threatened and pinned you with little to no help coming your way anytime soon. You could use your physical combat skills to fight against the man before you, but something in your gut told you that it would be a horrible idea to try anything funny with him right now.

With that, you could only take a deep breath and try to talk things out with him for a bit, stalling some time before help eventually arrived.

“W-what…what do you want from me?” You questioned, or more like stammered. It was clear that you were trembling in your voice.

The man chuckles slightly as he smiles back at you. “See, sweetheart. I’m afraid I can’t let you off that easily, knowing that you were spying on us and retrieving crucial evidence and information that would hinder our mission.”

This time, his fingers on your chin slowly travelled down to your neck and chest. It was the way he took his time gently sliding his finger down and touching your bare skin that made you let out a gasp.

“I’d like to play a little game with you, princess.”

“W-what do you…” You were beginning to lose your mind as he brushed his fingers across your lips, smudging the lipstick that you’d put on prior.

“I’d like to see how much you can handle, and trust me, we will have so much fun. I’ll make sure that you won’t be heading back to your headquarters anytime soon.”

Within seconds after that last sentence, he crashed his lips with yours and began savouring them as a tingling sensation ran through your body. He quickly deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with urgency.

It was wrong. This was all so wrong.

You knew how bad this situation was because he was your enemy. But then, something about his lips made you crave more. His kisses tasted like honey, and the way he moved his lips against yours drove you insane.

Without you knowing, your grip against the laptop slowly loosened, and eventually, he took it away from you and gently placed it on the ground, his hands quickly moving back up to your cargo pants, rubbing the spot in between your thighs, earning a gasp from you.

He smiled as you gave him the reaction that he wanted, and he began to untie your pants before pulling them down, his fingers now brushing over your sensitive spot through the lace underwear that you were wearing. Slowly, he began to feel that you were starting to get wet, and that was his cue to hook his finger under the seam of your underwear before pulling them down, revealing your now wet clit all exposed.

You hissed as the cold air from the atmosphere came in contact with your clit, and it took the enemy a moment to reconnect his fingers to your wet sensitive spot, rubbing it again before slowly inserting two fingers into you.

“Aah…aaah…”

“I’ll be a dear and tell you my name, princess. Call me Sangyeon, moan for me,” he leaned towards you and whispered.

“S-sangyeon….”

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good for me. I shall grant you your next reward now, hmm?”

As he removed his fingers from your clit, he quickly moved them to his pants, unzipped and shoved them down rather hastily. It was the way you immediately noticed the erection through his boxers, and your eyes widened from just that alone. Sangyeon smirked at your reaction and reconnected his lips to yours to give you a few pecks.

“Look at you already can’t stop staring at my big cock. Oh, baby. I’ll make sure that you won’t regret playing with it.”

Immediately, he grabbed your free hand and guided you to touch his erection. You gasped from that alone while Sangyeon let out a soft groan. You couldn’t help but naturally start rubbing his tip, which made Sangyeon moan for you.

“Touch me, baby.” He commanded.

Guiding your hands again, he allowed you to pull his boxers down, and your mouth watered at the sight of his massive bulge. You wrapped your hands around his cock before you began gliding your hands up and down his member. In return, he inserted his fingers back into your clit once again, and the both of you were now a moaning mess.

“S-sangyeon…kiss me…please…” you whined, wanting to taste his sweet honey-like lips once again.

“Oh, honey. You love the way my tongue twirls around yours?”

“Y-yes…very much…aaahh—”

Just like that, he was now back to kissing you breathless. As his tongue slid into your mouth, he began sucking your tongue, and you shut your eyes tightly from the sensation. It made you forget entirely about how you were supposed to escape this guy as soon as possible, trying to find a potential hideout place to wait for your fellow agents.

It seemed as if Sangyeon had wrapped you around his fingertips, just as he had planned to, and he would make sure that you wouldn’t be leaving this place anytime soon. He would proceed to the next step of his plan anytime now.

He gently removed your hands away from his bulge as he took it himself to align the tip towards your entrance, and you knew that you were in big trouble. Now, you tried to move forward when his hand, still grabbing your wrist, tightened again and pushed it back towards the truck again.

“Oh no, princess. We’re just getting started. Stay here with me, and I’ll give you the best fucking sex you’ll ever have.”

As soon as those words slipped out of his mouth, he immediately slid himself into you, and you all but screamed, a teardrop falling from the corners of your eyes. Sangyeon didn’t even give you enough time to adjust to his huge size fully and eventually began slamming into you hard.

“Fuck—fuck.” It was all that you could’ve said because you had already lost your mind ever since he kissed you for the first time. Now that he was within you? Oh, you were far, long gone from reality.

Given the way he was fucking you so hard, even the truck that you were leaning against began rocking back and forth following your pace.

Your eyes watered as he hit every single spot within you, causing you to cry out loud. If you were to be honest, it actually did hurt, especially which such a large and hard dick like his. But the pleasure far exceeded the pain, and you cried out for more.

“Sangyeon…sangyeon…”

“Tell me what exactly you want, baby.”

“Keep it going…please…”

“Just like that? Are you sure that is enough?”

“I…want you to fuck me faster and harder—”

“Anything else?” He was now picking up the pace, and it was visible that his chest was rising up and down much quicker than before as he tried his best to catch his breath.

“I…want you to fuck me till my legs feel numb, give me more and more…aaah—”

“That is what exactly I like to hear, sweetheart.”

As he slammed into you hard, you felt a tight knot form around your stomach, signalling that you were about to reach your high and cum. Sangyeon noticed your demeanour as you buckled your hips and spread your legs wider for him to gain more access to you.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” You screamed.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my cock, I want you to be dripping wet just for me.” He growled.

With a few more pushes, you eventually released and spilled all of your juices all around his cock, so much so that it was oozing out of you, and it all splattered on the ground.

You breathe in heavily before Sangyeon gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, reassuring you that you have done so well for him.

“That’s it, princess. What a good girl you’ve been. But unfortunately, there is more to come baby.”

He grabbed both of your shoulders before turning you around rather aggressively, so now you were facing the truck instead. If you were to be honest, that rough act of his turned you on more than it was painful. It was a few seconds before you felt his grip return to you on both sides of your hips, as you felt his cock rubbing up and down once again on your dripping wet clit.

Sangyeon leaned forward to whisper in your ear, sending you a chill down your spine. “Give me some more, baby. You know you can do it.”

As he pushed his cock back into you, an immense moan spilt out from your mouth as he began pounding into you again. You had already had sex and felt his member all around you just a minute prior, yet you were still struggling to adjust to his bulge.

“God, sweetheart. I’ve already fucked you hard, and yet you’re still so tight. I guess I wasn’t rough enough.”

As he pounds into you, your hands that were pressed against the truck begin pushing the vehicle once again. If only there were someone around, you swear to god that the car's movement would be more than enough to prove that something wasn’t right and that there were people everywhere in the empty parking lot.

But your comrades are still nowhere to be seen, and you were still bounded by the criminal himself, fucking you till you were sore to the point that you would not be able to walk on your own after this.

“S-sangyeon…I-I wanna cum again for you so badly…” You whimpered.

This time, he moved one of his hands up to grab a chunk of your hair and pulled it back; that firm sudden grip caused you to scream once again for him.

“Do it then. Cum with me this time.” He commanded, pulling your hair and pounding into you even harder.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—Sangyeon!! I’m cumming!!”

With one final hard thrust, both of you released your liquids before slowing down the momentum and catching your breaths together. He removed his grip from your hair before he grabbed your chin and turned your head back for him to kiss you again. You snaked your hands up to his neck to return the favour.

Just then, you heard sirens coming from afar, and you heard static in your earpiece again.

“Agent Y/N, please respond! We’re finally here to infiltrate the facility; please head out, return to the back of our vehicle, and stay put!”

It was your cue to leave now, and there was no more extended point in you staying here.

You gulped before you pulled away from Sangyeon, mustering up the courage to reject him for good this time.

“S-sangyeon…I have to go…I can’t stay here any more.” You stammered, hoping that he would finally let you leave this time, especially since he had already gotten what he wanted.

But you should’ve known better because his familiar dark and dangerous look was plastered on his face again, and he pushed you back against the truck.

“You know, now that your comrades are here, I’m afraid there’s more reason for me not to let you leave now, hmm? I’ve been stalling time for my boys to get what they want in the facility before your agents arrive to ruin our plan. While they were doing that, I was out here guarding the area, making sure nobody was to sabotage our plan.”

So that was why he played this little dirty game with you.

“Knowing my boys, I’m pretty sure that they have gotten everything we need, and all they have to do is defeat your fellow agents, and then we will leave. And while they are doing that, you will keep me company until they’re done.” He threatened.

This time, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the front of the car, directly where you could see clearly how your fellow agents were confronting the criminals. Within seconds, a fight has broken out between them across the facility, and you have no choice but to stay here helplessly and be unable to provide them with any aid.

Before you could say anything, Sangyeon yanked you down towards the hood of the car so that you were lying on top of it, and he prepared to go for a third round with you.

“I want you to watch closely with how you and your fellow agents are going to fail this mission terribly while I fuck you real good till you’re begging for more.”

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