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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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demonologistfucker · 3 years ago

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WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning.

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC.

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes.

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind.

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance.

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over.

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth.

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.”

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.”

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression.

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before.

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises.

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them.

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement.

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh.

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction.

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles.

“Not worried about your safety?”

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,”

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too.

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice.

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

“Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC.

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic.

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh.

“The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

“The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

“Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine.

“Then what is it?”

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole.

“Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk.

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read.

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?”

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed.

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel.

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement.

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger.

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.”

“That’s fair,” MC nods.

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all?

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot.

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away.

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them.

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off.

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven.

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified.

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way.

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils.

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.”

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon.

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself.

“Me too,”

#wip #angel!mc #obey me #obey me satan #my writing

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adhd-ahamilton · 3 years ago

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I got to see Hamilton in Sydney!!

It was a seriously, seriously amazing time – I was always worried that by the time I finally got to see Hamilton on stage (I was even supposed to see it in America last year lmfao) it wouldn’t mean the same anymore. And like, obviously it’s not my hyperfixation anymore. But even like this, it was still an incredible experience! I always figured that the recording would focus more on close-ups and the like because you can’t really see that on stage, but you really can see so much of what’s going on when you see it live and the whole stage is full of things to notice!

I have a lot of thoughts about it (mainly about the Australian cast, though some of these things could just be live performance things)!

Firstly, only two lines had their wordings changed:

* ‘John Adams doesn’t have a real job, anyway’ → ‘Vice president is not a real job, anyway.’ This got a good laugh from the audience; obviously it was changed to preserve the joke, since most Aussies wouldn’t have a good idea of who John Adams was. (I explained the joke when I watched the recording with my parents.)

* ‘Weehawken. Dawn.’ → ‘Jersey. Dawn.’ This was a bit of a surprise, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense. Aussies also wouldn’t know Weehawken (I didn’t even get that he was referring to a place when I first heard it), while Jersey is very clear because they already made a joke about it. (That one didn’t get much of a laugh though, ofc lol) And it’s actually more consistent because later they do say ‘we were near the same spot my son died, is that why’ so they drive that connection even deeper.

I don’t think there were any other music/staging/choreography differences from the recording – just the acting. But ooh, this really was differently-acted!

Hamilton

I love Lin-Manuel Miranda. I love his energy and enthusiasm and intelligence and his optimism. But while I loved his dorky version of Hamiton, I have to admit, I didn’t always think it matched up with even the musical’s script, let alone the real person. This Hamilton, though? I kept thinking about all the ways he felt different from the original, and almost every time, it was like ‘yeah, this feels more like what I know of the real Hamilton.’ (Or at least, the Hamilton we wrote about in fic.)

This Hamilton is aggressive and prickly. Up until Helpless, we don’t really see him smile – which makes sense, y’know, with ‘talk less, smile more.’ When he confronts Burr at the beginning of the play, he doesn’t have Miranda’s overly energetic and talkative air, he’s more pushy and too intense. You really feel like, oh, yeah, he’s just walking up to someone on the street and badgering them into telling him about their life story. When he says ‘God, I wish there was a war’ he’s less naive and more so hyperfocused on his goal he doesn’t notice he’s said something super insensitive. When Burr says ‘You wanna get ahead?’ his ‘Yes’ isn’t quiet and firm, it’s more ‘yes obviously, nobody would not want to get ahead, so just hurry up and tell me already.’

And that’s just in the first couple of songs! He continues on like this, with that kind of burning intensity and hot temper, through the musical, though ofc it softens at important times. Importantly, his relationship with Burr is largely based in frustration. When he does ‘My Shot’, it honestly feels less like he’s singing to impress the guys and more like he’s challenging Burr and everything he just told him; I’m sure I saw him glancing back at Burr several times. Likewise, when he tells Burr to go get Theodosia, it’s not questioning – he’s outright saying that if he really loved her, he’d take any risk for her. And in Schuyler Defeated, his ‘Burr?’ isn’t questioning there, either – he’s already angry, he’s just demanding his attention. He genuinely seems to like Burr in a weird way that even he might not understand at times, but for the most part he just seems to find him really frustrating and is always trying to incite him to do more.

This Hamilton also feels very independent, and even aloof. In The Story of Tonight, while the other guys are totally sincere and moved by it all, Hamilton feels sorta… distant. At one point he half walks off until Laurens brings him back, which I think happens in the recording as well, but here I especially felt like that was how he was ‘really’ feeling. Not that he was being manipulative or lying in any way, just that he couldn’t be in the moment because he was still stuck in his head thinking about the future. And the whole way through, he very rarely seems to properly open up – my friend said afterwards that Hurricane hits so much harder when it’s the first time he’s really vulnerable in the entire musical. Which is basically how it happens.

It’s funny – you think of Hamilton and Burr as being contrasting this way, with Burr keeping his cards close to his chest and not revealing what he really wants until The Room Where It Happens, but this Hamilton doesn’t feel far off. But rather than keeping a secret per se, it’s more… he has such an incredibly strong, intense drive, and you’re never super certain where it comes from. And in Hurricane, it suddenly becomes clear – all this time, he’s still caught up in that trauma, and still feels like he needs to fight and scrape just to survive, even when it turns into this self-destructive impulse. Honestly, Hurricane has always been kind of a weird song – he’s been corrupted and is not the most sympathetic beforehand, but then you get this grand slow inspiring song talking about how he suffered in the past and overcame it, but THEN you cut to an almost comedic number about how he fucked everything up for himself and his family. In Miranda’s version, that mood up-and-down always felt a little too jarring. Here it made perfect sense – it was so shocking to see how vulnerable he was at the beginning, and then the song isn’t just repeating what we learned in the beginning, it’s explaining what he’s been keeping deep down all along, but also making it clear that this is manic and awful and destructive.

Part of that is the singing, too. This Hamilton can rap really well, but his singing voice is startlingly gentle and beautiful. It really helps to get across the sincerity of his feelings in Helpless, Dear Theodosia, and as I said Hurricane. On the other hand, there are also times his voice just goes flat, like there are so many emotions he can’t process them – you see that a bit in My Shot when he gets worried (‘I never had a group of friends before’), but it REALLY stings when he says ‘I have so much work to do.’ That hit me way harder than Miranda’s version :(

However, when you combine this Hamilton’s aloofness with that certainty and intelligence, you also get a version of him that is particularly… ironic? He’s always crossing his arms (when he’s not rubbing his face with a palm; those two gestures repeat constantly through the play), and kinda stepping back and Watching people, with a bit of a sense of self-important and even patronising judgement. This is very much ‘So quick-witted!’ ‘Alas, I admit it.’ He definitely does come across like a dude who thinks he is ‘smartest in the room,’ and puts way too much stock in his own opinion. Particularly with Burr whenever they were getting along there was a distinct sense of ‘You know what? I actually think you’re pretty interesting. And my positive judgement is hard to come by, so that’s a big compliment.’ (Burr does not seem to get this weirdly condescending vibe though, lol.) Honestly…. I gotta admit: I really don’t like people like that, haha – though I can’t say it’s entirely inappropriate for Hamilton characterisation. This Hamilton genuinely feels difficult, and that matches up to what happens in the script.

But, the consequence is that after Hurricane, some of the later songs didn’t have quite as much of an impact on me as in the original. In It’s Quite Uptown, I could somehow never quite lose that vision of Hamilton as a bit sarcastic and superior – the way he rubs at his face in grief still just felt a little… put-on and theatrical, like you can hear the frustrated sigh underneath. And this is a song that demands complete, total, unrelenting vulnerability – Miranda’s Hamilton sounds like he’s dying the whole time and that makes the emotional stakes really felt. Maybe it’s that his voice was TOO gentle in this song – Miranda’s more awkward voice actually adds to the exhausted brokenness of the situation?

And finally, when we got to The World Was Wide Enough… Miranda’s speech there in the silence might just be my favourite sequence in the entire musical, so I think anyone else would have struggled to match up to that. It doesn’t help that I was distracted trying to figure out Burr in this scene (which I’ll get to later). It was still beautiful, of course, but ‘What is a legacy?’ just feels so so very Lin-Manuel Miranda and anyone else singing that just doesn’t feel the same.

Overall, I really really enjoyed this version of Alexander Hamilton – as I said, he felt much closer to the actual characterisation I always imagined for him. And this one showed some really fascinating vulnerability in unexpected places, even if the ending didn’t quite land as well for me.

Burr

This Burr was really, really fascinating as well – an interpretation that feels different all the way through, but really pays off at the end with something very striking.

So, something the group of us all agreed was that this Burr felt a lot more like the ‘trust fund baby’ he calls himself. There’s something elegant and refined about him, a rich person who is used to moving through the world as a person to be admired. He’s actually quite graceful, somehow, even though he barely dances? But that also really brings to the fore one particular element – entitlement. (Seriously, my mum is physically incapable of bringing up Burr without mentioning the word ‘entitled’, lol.)

This is a Burr who is used to not having to work for things. He just sort of expects things to fall into his lap, eventually, in contrast to Hamilton. The world will eventually shape to match his desires – that’s how things work. Even in the latter part of the musical, it doesn’t so much feel like he needs to fight and scrape like Hamilton to get ahead, but more like… getting ahead is his birthright, and he just needs to effect that inevitable change into the world. But I’ll get to all that later.

The other thing my friend said was that this Burr feels very much like a preacher’s son, and the more I thought about that the more I agree. There’s something almost… toxically positive about him – the smiles don’t feel two-faced and manipulative so much as maybe like, wilfully ignorant? There’s a very ‘Don’t fret, God will work things out in the end :)’ feel about him, actually. But there’s also something deeply naive in him. Leslie Odom Junior’s version also had some of that genuine lack of understanding – when he muses in confusion over Hamilton in Wait For It, or when his face scrunches in confusion when he says ‘I don’t see why that has to end’ in Schuyler Defeated, and this one does all that, but it feels like an even more inescapable part of his character.

Like, there’s something about this Burr that is just a bit… lame. A bit ‘Hello Fellow Kids.’ But, intentionally!! As I said, he’s a preacher’s son. When he tries to act kinda cool or badass, it just doesn’t quite work. When he interacts with the other guys, even as he smiles wanly and shakes it off when they insult him, you feel like he does still want to be – or even think he is? - part of that group of cool young men. He’s just too… nice, almost. I felt a little more bad during The Story Of Tonight (Reprise) and all. And he seems to take it really earnestly that Hamilton likes him, even if, like I said, there’s a sorta superior quality coming from Hamilton.

He just comes across more naive. Rather than a manipulator, this Burr comes across as more of a shameless Yes Man, who doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what he’s doing. But I also sort of felt like other characters easily saw through him, and Burr didn’t quite realise that. Like with Jefferson, it sorta felt like he thought he was being really strategic but Jefferson was just like ‘sure, this guy works as an ally, even if he’s kinda annoying.’

And when it comes to Wait For It… the song makes it clear that bad things have happened to him – he hasn’t gone through life without suffering – but he hasn’t had the same reaction Hamilton has had. While Hamilton learned nothing will come to him unless he takes it, it feels like Burr learned that things will just… happen to him, good or bad, and he can’t control it. Nothing that has ever really affected Burr has been of his choice – he inherited his position, and then his parents died, and all of that was just the uncontrollable whim of the universe. Leslie Odom Junior’s version emphasised the ‘I am the one thing I can control’ aspect a bit more – you feel that that version really had worked hard and struggled for the sake of his studies and job, but this Wait For It gave me a very uncomfortable feeling of being trapped. It’s as though everything about him is already decided, and even his efforts aren’t personal decisions so much as just what was natural and expected of him to do.

And that makes the second half of the story feel very different for him. In Leslie Odom Junior’s version, we see him take that self-control to new levels – that realisation that there is something that means as much to him as all of that drive and intensity Hamilton puts out, and it’s his own ambition. That he does want that, and he will have to fight and get his hand dirty to make it happen. As the story goes on, he becomes increasingly desperate and fearful, understanding more and more what it was to be that kid in the hurricane, becoming viscerally aware that terrible things can and will happen to him unless he stops them.

This Burr doesn’t feel like that. His downfall isn’t frantic. It’s very very cold.

In The Room Where It Happens, yes, his ambition crystallises and he changes strategy. But it feels less like an electric jolt, or an earthquake, and more of an epiphany. It’s okay for him to do these things. It’s right. He belongs in the room where it happens. Whatever he does to bring him there is by definition right and good.

He honestly seems to be feeling good through much of it. He’s so smiley when he comes up to Jefferson. He seems even more confused than Leslie’s Burr when Hamilton is actually mad at him for unseating Schuyler. And in The Election of 1800, there’s nothing of the original’s tired, manic energy, like he’s pushing himself to the brink and plastering on a smile to get through it. When this Burr campaigns, he’s energized and charismatic and friendly and filled with almost a kind of serenity. Like this is what he was born to do. His future is almost here – he just needs to reach out a little and it will be in his grasp.

Which, brief aside here while I analyse this haha – so, in Australia, a big part of our culture is what is called Tall Poppy Syndrome. i.e., an instinctive bitterness and hostility towards those who are perceived to stand above others. It’s often described as an aggression towards successful people, but I think that’s only part of it. Australians would describe their culture as breezy and casual and relaxed, but there’s also something disaffected about it, IMO. You’re not meant to ever take anything too seriously. Yes, we all take the piss out of politicians, but it’s sorta ‘lame’ to really seriously oppose them, too. It’s like our culture is stuck in the mindset of a self-conscious fifteen year old, where we’re all sorta lazily cynical and ‘bluntly honest’, but you’re not supposed to ever actually do anything about it all. Caring too much is kinda embarrassing. You’re just supposed to make fun of people and keep living your life. We don’t get the same fundamentalist groups intent on forcing their viewpoint on society like America does, but we also don’t get the same idealists who fervently believe that if we work hard we can make things better. They exist, for sure. But… well, it’s hard for me to imagine an Australian Leslie Knope, you know? (Who, btw, is one of my favourite fictional characters of all time, for reference.)

Watching Burr in The Election of 1800, I was struck by a memory. It was an Australian season of The Amazing Race, and on top of all of the typical relaxed Australian reality show contenders (seriously, I don’t know what the fuck Drag Race Down Under is on, that is the most un-Australian reality show I have ever SEEN), there was one couple that were I suppose Go-Getters. The type who eat healthily (probably vegan) and get up every morning in their athleisure to work out at the gym or go for runs. They were peppy and enthusiastic and they announced with huge smiles that they were going to WIN this! And the other contestants absolutely despised them. At one point, they did something to attract specific ire – honestly, it was probably nothing more than just not helping another duo who were going the wrong way, because in Australian reality shows everyone helps. But after that, multiple groups all ganged up to sabotage them. They took such delight in watching these two cheery people’s optimism flag, so very self-assured in having taught them to ‘not take yourself too seriously.’ Burr, as he was campaigning, reminded me of them.

It’s really telling, I think, that Burr is the one who reminded me a little of Leslie Knope, here – albeit obviously a much darker version. The kind of person who dorkily believes in the system and puts himself out there unselfconsciously, whose wide smiles are unironic and unmocking. In the original, Lin Manuel Miranda actually compared Hamilton to Leslie Knope at one point, with Hamilton’s ‘thirty years of disagreements.’ It’s a very Australian thing, to make Hamilton less earnest and more aloof and sarcastic, to make his anger as much about frustration with other people as about believing in something himself, and to make Burr, by comparison, sincere. Australians don’t really trust sincerity. Honesty is to be framed as an insulting joke, and Burr is just too polite to do that.

When the results come, Burr’s serene smile only very very slowly fades. Before his expression really drops, he turns away. When Your Obedient Servant starts, he’s quiet. The whole time he sings, he’s measured and controlled and entirely certain of himself. He doesn’t have LOJ’s grit or spikes in volume on ‘just to keep me from winning.’ He’s unnervingly quiet.

Even into The World Was Wide Enough this continues. In the original, Burr is outright frantic. He’s desperate and shaking with anger and fear, and when he points at Hamilton’s glasses and the like, you can feel that he actually isn’t sure of himself – that he’s trying to justify this to himself and knows he sounds crazy, but he just can’t pull back now. His voice shakes and goes up and down. When he says ‘we were near the same spot his son died, is that way?’ it rises and when he says ‘this man will not make an orphan of my daughter’ he cracks in real tears, like the mention of Philip reminded him of what’s at stake here, like that really is the reason he’ll kill him. This Burr stays quiet and cold. He doesn’t waver.

If that Burr was desperate, this one feels… and I hope this doesn’t sound like a joke: like a thwarted rich nice guy. The other Burr learned from Hamilton too well, and is replicating his self-destructive energy. This Burr hasn’t learned anything at all. Winning is still his birthright, and Hamilton has stolen that from him. Burr deserves it, and he deserves to punish Hamilton for this. It’s not an explosion of shock, a scrabbling for purchase in this new chaotic world that will doom them both. It’s vindictive. Burr knows what he is doing and he wants to hurt Hamilton for all Hamilton has hurt him.

After the shot, I was surprised to find myself not tearing up as I expected (usually, these two last songs always get me). With the original Burr, his singing is laced with pain as much as regret. When he repeats ‘death doesn’t discriminate’, we feel his sorrow as he fits Hamilton into the same kind of category as his parents and wife, as someone important to him who died. When he says ‘he may have been the first one who died, but I’m the one who paid for it,’ we understand that he’s referring to the depth of his grief. That having to live with knowing he killed Hamilton feels, in this moment, worse than death.

This Burr is still cold. And when he finally gets to it, and says ‘I’m the one who paid for it,’ he looks away. He almost spits. His face is contorted in bitterness. It’s rough and gritty, for the first time in the entire musical.

I can remember it vividly – it was shocking to see, and sends shivers through me to remember. I’d been waiting for that cathartic sadness, but it wasn’t here. This Burr, deep down, didn’t feel for Hamilton, at least in the end. He was pissed off because for once in his life his actions had consequences. Because of Hamilton, he had fucked up his life forever. His worldview had been shattered. And at that moment, that was all he could think about – that resignation and bitterness and anger. All along, maybe, he had been nice only because he’d had no reason not to be. Once it didn’t benefit him, and his pride and entitlement were damaged, he showed who he truly was.

It… was an experience, lol. Honestly I think it was partly lost on me because I so loved the original version and was like working myself up ready for a good cry here, so I didn’t get to just sit and take the full impact – I kept searching for a grief or fear that wasn’t there. But I don’t think this version is bad! It’s a very valid interpretation of Burr, and it was extremely fascinating to see unfold.

If I have one critique, it’s that one kind of problem with the whole Australian show is that the performances lacked grit. I really wanted more edge, more aggression, more intensity of those emotions – something more sharp and shocking. Hamilton delivers this kind of thing at times, especially early on, but ofc it fades away in the end. Jefferson, as I’ll get to, is too smooth-talking while also having that cold serene kind of anger. When we lack both Hamilton’s broken It’s Quiet Uptown and Burr’s frantic ‘this man will not make an orphan of my daughter’, we don’t get those life and death stakes quite as highly. By focusing all of Burr’s anger in one line, I think the rest of the songs didn’t have as much of an impact as I’d like.

But!! I really enjoyed this interpretation, and I’d love to see it again knowing what’s coming!

Eliza

OKAY nobody else is going to get those huge walls of text lmaoooo

Anyway this Eliza wasn’t a super different interpretation than Phillipa Soo’s, but I think she pulled it off at least as well, if not even better?

So, the really big obvious thing about this Eliza is her smile. Her actress has this amazing, big toothy grin that feels so lacking in guile, but also still so comforting. It’s so attention-grabbing and almost impossible not to be affected by. It just screams ‘hey, things will turn out okay, so cheer up! :)’ And it’s something that just comes out on Eliza as if on instinct – she’s wearing it through most of That Would Be Enough, and at the end of Take A Break when she escorts Angelica away, and even in Blow You All Away when she’s comforting Phillip or in flickers when describing Hamilton’s old letters in Burn.

The thing about Eliza as a character is that she’s basically defined by her emotional intelligence. She feels as strongly as Hamilton, but where he is uncontrolled and reckless and both self and other destructive, she is the opposite of all of those things. She’s measured and practical and knows exactly who she is and what she wants at all times. She will sacrifice for others, but it’s because she decides to, and if she is hurt, she will not keep herself in harm’s way. It’s an interesting kind of competence and I can understand in theory why it’s cool to have a female character like that even if I, as a neurodivergent mentally ill woman cannot relate in the slightest and feel sorta awkward to be judged against.

This Eliza nails all of that perfectly. She’s effortlessly charming and soothing whenever she wants to be – in That Would Be Enough, when Hamilton is turned away and putting up all of his sharpest bristles, you can feel her become something soft and liquid and find her way up against him regardless without getting hurt. It’s that strength of character that makes their relationship really work – it’s not necessarily that she completely understands him or is good at ‘handling’ him, but that her certainty of purpose and deliberate, skilful compassion make her perfectly suited to calm Hamilton’s deep down insecurities. She loves him entirely and makes him believe that. And when Hamilton responds with his own intensity, she loves that, and believes in that.

And all of that makes it mean so much more when she steps out of that natural mediator role for a moment. In Helpless she’s adorable, so giddy and excited and so clearly crushing on Hamilton with a youthful energy that somehow doesn’t feel all that naive. As she sings she’s constantly glancing back over at him, it’s really cute haha. But she does feel a bit more vulnerable here – it does feel like she’s silently asking for help from Angelica when they talk. More startlingly, there’s Non-Stop – when she calls out ‘Alexander’, it is SHARP. It’s the same kind of tone Hamilton takes when he calls out to Burr in Schuyler Defeated. It’s a bit startling actually, but in a good way.

That tone, I think, foreshadows Burn. Again, I think this Eliza takes the same tone as Philippa Soo, but this version (maybe just because I saw it live!) embodied it even more – she talks about her own desperation to understand, re-reading their old letters, and cites Angelica as back-up, but when she reaches the mid-point, she stops and seems to think. She weighs up the situation and her emotions. And when she says ‘I’m erasing myself from the narrative,’ it is very deliberate and conscious. She is in control of her fate and she can see herself objectively and this is what is just. Her moral core is impenetrable. She sees long arc of the future that Hamilton and Burr are so obsessed with and she says, yes, this is what should be done.

And then in It’s Quiet Uptown, that same self-certainty is there from the very first word. This whole musical, even at her lowest, Eliza has instinctively brought out that comforting, wide smile. Here, her face is expressionless. If Hamilton’s acting here didn’t quite hit my mark, Eliza’s was spot on. The withdrawal of that earlier warmth is all the colder when there is no doubt within her about it, and nobody can argue she’s wrong in that. When she takes Hamilton’s hand, she still doesn’t smile. It’s sad :(

Of all of the final songs, Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story hit me closest to the original. It’s actually almost jarring to see Eliza ask ‘have I done enough?’ This whole song, we hear a hasty energy to her she’s lacked all musical – the first sign that Hamilton has rubbed off on her, too. But when she asks ‘Will they tell your story?’ it’s still Eliza – this isn’t about a legacy, it’s because she’s still that giddy girl from Helpless who loves him and wants to do everything she can for the people she loves.

(Whenever she and Hamilton see each other but appear to walk past one another, only to circle around and meet in the middle again, I cry lmao;;)

Her gasp at the end is soft and quiet and delighted, as though she just spotted someone in the crowd who she hasn’t seen in years and can’t wait to catch up.

If I have one critique, it’s the lack of grit again. Her scream at Philip’s death wasn’t as wild and destroyed as Phillipa Soo’s, and while I like her gasp, I prefer the original’s shocked, overwhelming joy.

Overall though, she was extremely good! Her charisma was just blinding, but it was in that perfectly ‘mundane’ way you’d expect from Eliza. But that solid, immovable core always shone through. They really sold her relationship with Hamilton, too!

Angelica

This is the one I feel like I have the least to say about. My mum said she was the only character who just couldn’t quite match up to the original, and I don’t really agree, but I don’t have a huge amount to say, either.

This Angelica felt a bit older and more mature than Goldsberry. The original Angelica has a bit of brashness and vivid emotion to her – a bit more out there and exaggerated in her actions and expressions. More bold but also more chaotic. This one was a bit more quiet and considering. Diplomatic, maybe?

I actually worried when I first saw her that she wouldn’t be able to carry Satisfied because she was too confident and capable I wouldn’t be able to believe her vulnerability, but no, she pulled that off perfectly. When she was standing in the dark there in the end, the sadness radiated from her.

I actually got a lot more chemistry between her and Hamilton this time; I always thought I disliked the relationship in that canon because of my grudge against how LMM wrote it, but maybe it’s just that LMM was too old for her lmao. You’d think her quietness would contrast with Hamilton’s pushiness, but if anything it feels like she can just eyebrow-arch off his usual way of getting under people’s skin – when she says ‘you forget yourself’ it��s subtly disapproving, then when he delivers the punchline, it’s like he proves himself enough to earn her respect. Indeed, their mutual aloofness actually suits them both really well. You can just imagine them working together, quietly sharing their judgements on everyone else in the room around them. They’d be a terrifying power couple, and that really connects up to her advice in Take a Break.

I don’t have as much to say about the rest of the musical though. (actually IDK if that’s all partly just because by the end my ADHD brain had to work a lot harder to keep up, lol.) Her piece in The Reynalds Pamphlet did the job, and her singing in It’s Quiet Uptown was beautiful.

I guess, if I had to contrast them, the original Angelica felt more spirited and aggressive – very ‘you want a revolution? I want a revelation!’ - while this one felt more like the settled head of the family who already had her place but understood the world perfectly and knew she’d have to pick and choose what she wanted most. (...spoken like that she sounds like a big contrast to Burr, funnily enough?)

Lafayette/Jefferson

So not too much to say about Lafayette – the guy pretty much did him the same as Daveed Diggs, and pulling that off is very impressive but there isn’t too much to analyse here. If anything the Lafayette felt slightly less bright and cheery than the original, which may have been done to contrast with Jefferson.

Jefferson, on the other hand, was quite different. Diggs’ version is very loud and kinda abrasive and arrogant – always smiling and bouncing but with something clearly malicious lying behind all of that. He’s got a harshness to him, deliberately intimidating and surprisingly authentic in what he reveals of himself. He’s a villain character who’s fun to watch because he’s having fun himself and you gotta admire his balls.

This Jefferson is much more smooth and manipulative – maybe taking over from what Burr sometimes delves into? When he first appears, he plays to the crowd, encouraging the cheers, but it’s less arrogance and more like, he’s a celebrity putting on a show. He’s friendly and cheerful all through What’d I Miss?, disarmingly enjoyable to watch. He’s someone who knows the crowd and likes the crowd and is very very good and getting what he wants from the crowd without making it obvious he’s doing that. He’s definitely the type of #relatable celebrity fans would really want to defend.

But Hamilton represents a very clear change to his status quo. He starts off singing What’d I Miss? just in a fun, conversation-starting way as a rhetorical question, but after Hamilton introduces himself, he seems genuinely taken-aback. His last ‘What’d I miss?’ sounds like a genuine question, like, ‘wait wtf what’s going on here all of a sudden?’

And then we get the Cabinet Battles. Despite the above, Jefferson starts off his argument oozing with relaxed confidence. He doesn’t need to take any of this seriously – it’s already in the bag! Everyone loves him and as long as he makes some nice jokes and smiles disarmingly enough, he’ll always get what he want. And then Hamilton starts talking. And he’s pushy and hostile and sarcastic and mocking and angry and superior. And the whole time, Jefferson stands straight and Stares at him. We get none of Diggs’ ‘Haha, this guy is a riot! :D’ type of energy – this Jefferson is deeply displeased, and he is watching very, very carefully to take stock of the situation so he can put an end to it.

It’s actually really well done IMO – when the crowd oohed and ahhed, it felt like a 50/50 of ‘what the hell, people aren’t supposed to DISAGREE with Jefferson!’ and also ‘holy shit this guy is acting like an actual obnoxious child who needs to stfu right now.’ Both Jefferson’s easy entitlement and Hamilton’s unhelpful abrasiveness really got across.

In the second battle, Jefferson is much more careful. Whether it’s because he isn’t underestimating Hamilton anymore or because he cares much more about this, there’s an unamused urgency underlying everything he says. He still tries to be friendly and charming and diplomatic, but his smile drops often. This issue is important and he is not going to back down on it. It’s actually still not quite as immaturely insulting as Hamilton – more like, ‘can we stop humoring this asshole kid already and do something we very much need to be doing?’

(Also fun fact: in The Room Where It Happens, when we get to Jefferson’s version of events, Hamilton’s ‘I had nowhere else to turn’ is SO fake and sarcastic it was really funny, like even the Hamilton in Jefferson’s head can’t bring himself to actually say that sincerely.)

So, when we get to Washington On Your Side, he’s cold. At the time, he contrasts well with Burr, who is all smiles and surprisingly relaxed. This Jefferson is more like Angelica, quietly analysing the situation and slowly coming to a plan. The difference between cold, planning Jefferson and smooth-talking Jefferson is also great.

Because of all this, he has less of the really comedic stuff the original Jefferson got, with the exaggerated expressions and movements – in We Know, he’s more struck dumb by everything than the more over the top reactions Diggs did. But the controlled coldness contrasts with Hamilton better – it makes sense that he was the one who successfully connived himself to the top. And we get much more of that contrast between public and private Jefferson that is one of the interesting real-world meta statements, where who is was to the people and who he actually was were very different.

…….I think I had some kind of impression of ‘because I’m the president’ but I can’t remember what it was anymore. Hrm.

Anyway: enjoyed!!

Mulligan/Madison

So, how I’ve been saying the show lacked grit? I honestly think it might’ve all just collected in Hercules Mulligan lmao – obviously his parts are meant to be bold and brash and powerful, but these ones hit even harder than usual. His part in The World Turned Upside Down was just so Loud I could feel it in my chest! Great performance, I loved it!

Madison was very very different naturally, but also very different from the original version? While the original Madison felt tired and a bit disgruntled, like he was exhausted by Jefferson’s in-your-faceness and just wanted to get this done so he could get back to his work, his one felt much happier to be there. This Madison felt like he actually saw himself as Jefferson’s teammate, like he considered himself part of the show and was happy (even smug) to be helping out. When Jefferson passes him the microphone, rather than say ‘France’ with an irritated expression as if to say ‘everyone already knows this, just get on with it already’, it feels more like this Madison already rehearsed this with Jefferson deliberately. He calls out ‘France,’ as though it is some incredible zinger, like he’s been given the mic drop here. It’s pretty cute haha!

Overall this Madison felt a lot younger. Talking afterwards my mum mentioned that Mulligan’s role is hard because he has to switch to playing ‘an old man’, and was pretty surprised when I said Madison was actually the same age as Hamilton. This version felt a lot more age-appropriate. He still gets sick and starts coughing (and it feels a lot meaner when Hamilton makes fun of him! The dude was just so happy to be here – let him have his zingers!!), but aside from that he thrums with nervous energy behind Jefferson, like he’s ready to help out anytime he’s needed.

In all, he kinda feels like he fulfils that certain comedic henchman trope a bit? It really comes together with the ‘Can we get back to politics?’ ‘:’( please!!’ exchange. Madison isn’t made fun of, per se – it’s not like he really does enough in the script to get that kind of attention. But he’s just a bit funnier and more sympathetic, while also strangely feeling more like he and Jefferson are an actual team. (I mean, Jefferson hands him the mic as though he’s setting up a zinger, too. They’re both a bit ridiculous!)

Laurens/Phillip

Okay, this was one I was really curious about, for obvious reasons – LMM always sorta made it out that since he never included any of the Hamilton/Laurens stuff in the script, he kinda tried to act it in there more. In Story of Tonight or Ten Duel Commandments, or even briefly in the opening song, there’s meant to be a closeness that hints, however subtle, at that relationship.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get that at all here.

Laurens’ casting surprised me at first – he’s super short and extremely baby-faced, to the point that I wondered if he wasn’t played by a cis man. (His actor is a man, though, though ofc I wouldn’t know if he’s cis or not.) I was kinda confused about that all through the first act… until I got to the second act and, uh, remembered. But despite this – perhaps because of it? - he is an absolute firecracker. He’s hot-headed and rough and determined and every bit the young impassioned soldier.

He’s a bit more naive in the early songs – he seems genuinely friendly with Hamilton in The Story of Tonight, and you feel like he really does just like him from the moment he hears Non-Stop – but like I said, Hamilton is still pretty closed-off through all of that, so… it doesn’t really feel mutual. Hamilton likes him fine, but it doesn’t feel like he cares as much as Laurens does.

In Satisfied, he indeed seems super drunk, but it’s more like he’s just too young and drinking too much at a party than anything. The only time I really felt any particular chemistry between him and Hamilton actually comes from Story of Tonight Reprise – when Hamilton wanders off to speak with Burr, in sincere friendship, and Laurens comes over and starts ribbing Burr about his girl with almost malicious energy, it did sort of feel a little like he was jealous, if only that Hamilton and he had been talking so easily.

Finally, we get to Stay Alive. There, Hamilton and Laurens are just so angry and disgusted with Lee that they don’t really have room for anything else. It’s all very focused and determined and Manly, without any time for something softer or close between them. And I’m not sure how to feel about that. Laurens’ revulsion for Lee is historical record, and it says a lot about him and his values that that was so important to him. But there are other important parts of Laurens – that worry and fear and insecurity inside him, that ended up being so damaging to him. In such a limited script for him, ‘Alexander, you’re the closest friend I’ve got’ is really his one chance to show some of those emotions before he dies. Instead, Laurens never really gets to show that vulnerability, and I worry that it makes him feel too much like a ‘generic soldier character.’

I wonder if it’s because this Laurens looked so youthful that they sort of overcompensated, and felt the need to make him extra manly to make it clear he belonged there despite his appearance. But it sort of felt a bit too… macho for me. Nowhere to be found is that 18th century romantic friendship. Instead, it’s been replaced by a more WWI era Comrade and Comrade type deal. They’d die for each other, but would they write romantic letters to one another? And I think this is also unfortunately pretty Australian – real emotion is lame!! The only acceptable emotion is fucking hating your boss, and challenging him to a duel with your squadmate to get him what he deserves.

Well, I’m reading too much into it all, lol. But I always felt like the original Laurens barely got to show much of himself as it was, and this one felt even less so, unfortunately.

His final scene – is it We May Not Live To See Your Glory? - is done well, though. Again, Laurens just sorta feels like a generic young soldier, but ‘idealistic soldier who died too young’ is moving enough on its own. And in one of those rare moments, Hamilton really does feel shaken and vulnerable. ‘I have so much work to do,’ as I said, hurts – so lifeless and unlike him. Like nothing could process those emotions in him now, or express them.

Philip, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. First of all, yeah – having a shorter, younger-looking actor makes that Take a Break scene WAY less awkward, haha. It wasn’t even funny, it was just like ‘oh huh this just kinda looks all right?’ And the actor did really well playing a kid! He looked like a completely different person there, which is really good.

And then we get to Blow You All Away, and hoo boyy. If Laurens had been excessively confident, Phillip oozes uncertainty with everything he does. When he flirts with the girls ‘when I come back we’ll all strip down to our socks’ he manages to pull off the cocky act but in basically every other line you can see and hear the ‘a-am I doing this right? I’m not screwing this up, am I?’ radiating off of him. He definitely believes he’s doing the right thing – when he says ‘you talk about my father I will not let it slide’ there’s no hesitation – it’s just that he very clearly isn’t sure if he’s up to the task of doing it.

It was sorta interesting, actually – I think the original Phillip was more naively overconfident and reckless, and only had an attack of the nerves after he got himself into the duel. But – and this might just be me projecting here, lol – when this Philip confronts Eacker in the theatre, I got a real sense of like… ‘??? can I do this here? Where are you meant to threaten duels???’ and when Eacker is like ‘piss off, I’m watching this show now’ he seemed to wilt a lot, and straight up froze for a second or two, like he really didn’t know what to do at that point. And then of course when he talks to Hamilton he’s really worried…

And then his death. Somehow, I never used to cry much when this happened – it’s obviously very sad, but it didn’t manage to hit the right heartstrings to make crying, even in the recording. But oh god, this one was just awful… Even as he’s dying, Philip is still just so desperate for approval, like he’s so scared his parents will be mad at him for screwing it up, and Eliza is trying so hard to reassure him before he dies… I cried a lot :(

So overall, I really liked this Phillip, even if I don’t necessarily think it’s an improvement to the original. Laurens I kinda preferred the original, though this was still an interesting interpretation that gave me a lot to think about!

Washington

The guy did well! He has what Washington needs, and that’s a stature. When he’s on stage, your eyes are just naturally drawn to him. Even when he’s not doing much, he’s still a little intimidating. He has presence!

And in fact, this actor had an interesting quirk where the whites of his eyes could be seen easily? In Right-Hand Man, as he’s striding around at the center of the stage, his eyes just looked white, and it drilled in that slightly manic, crazed intensity underlying his strict, rigid rapping and self-control. It have the whole thing a really great effect.

But this Washington also had a sort of almost�� slight fem-ness to him, that I didn’t get as much from the initial? It’s funny how during One Last Time, I suddenly got this vivid though, ‘oh, it’s like he’s a cool supportive teacher.’ Which… obviously?? Haha. Like he’s clearly a mentor to Hamilton all the way through! But it’s that specifically teacher description I really felt all of a sudden, that he was warm and approachable and gentle at heart, despite everything I said above lol.

Like, I feel like this Washington was just a bit less stoic than the original? Slightly more expressive and less stern. When he says ‘I’m from Virginia, so watch your mouth,’ in the original, it sounded like he was genuinely kinda offended? It was ‘watch your mouth’ as in ‘don’t disrespect my home state.’ But in this one, Washington sorta grimaces a little theatrically and says it more incredulously, like he’s actually saying ‘you wanna maybe try thinking about who you’re talking to before you say that shit, son?’ It’s more of a warning – less that he’s upset and more that other people would be, so he should really try thinking before he speaks.

He also still does the part in Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story when Eliza says she spoke out against slavery and he kinda stumbles and stares and then looks down in shame, given the real Washington’s actions.

I liked him! I felt a little more warmly to him in the end than the original, but that might just be a product of seeing it live.

Peggy/Maria

Okay so I don’t really have anything to say about Peggy, which had basically always been the case, hah. :’) I mean, I think this version made the transformation between her initial wariness vs her later excitement more clear? But that is very likely a live show thing.

Maria, though!! Honestly? I was never really a fan of the original Maria’s performance. She just feels too much like a cliched seductress archetype, and while you can argue that that’s the role she plays in the story, especially since there’s the uncertainty over whether or not she was deliberately setting Hamilton up, it just feels too on the nose. It makes it harder to believe Hamilton didn’t know what was up the moment he saw her, which I don’t think is intentional. And it makes me feel bad for the real Maria Reynolds.

But this one was very different – much more vulnerable. When she first talks to Hamilton, she’s not doing a sexy pout and throaty singing, she’s just sorta… quiet and monotone and lost, much like Hamilton gets when he’s too emotional as well. Like she’s in shock and truly has nowhere to go is just sort of crumpling as a person. And when she propositions Hamilton, again it feels sincere – she just wants him to stay.

And after he talks to James Reynolds (just as perfectly, theatrically assholish as in the original), that continues. When he confronts her, she genuinely seems desperate and scared and upset. I felt so, so sorry for her that I was yelling in my head right then ‘you can’t just leave her now!’ at Hamilton – and then immediately remembered what that’d mean… it’s a much more gripping situation.

And then in the end, James Reynolds walks off and claps, and Maria just stops, face and body entirely stoic, and follows after him in silence… Is that an indication it was all an act from her? Or is it that she’s so scared of him that she totally closes up and can’t cry, can’t show any kind of emotion or weakness around him, and just has to try and be a silent and flawless wife? No matter how you interpret it, it’s chilling.

Oh, and IDK if this is done in the recording, but in The Reynolds Pamphlet, she gets given one, too, and her look of just… upset/disgust is also really painful. At the end they say ‘his poor wife’, but who thinks about poor Maria?? :(

I still wouldn’t say that this is an accurate adaptation of the real events, since I think that gets right into the script and structure of Hamilton in ways that a regional performance just can’t really make better. But this version is at least better. It plays Maria with more dignity, I think, than making her into a sexy bombshell, even if that bombshell act does get subverted in the original as well. This one feels significantly more sympathetic.

King George

He was great!! He was played by an older actor who seems to have done a lot of serious Shakespearian plays, which of course makes him absolutely perfect – both in that he could flawlessly depict that pompous old privileged Brit, but also in that he probably has a good backing in comedy and political satire :P He was clearly having the time of his life playing to the crowd – throughout all his time on stage he was constantly alternating between doing one or two lines very serious and mostly straight, before doing something absolutely hilarious. That back and forth worked extremely well!

Also I never saw it properly on the recording but when he gets up and dances in the middle of the stage during the Reynolds Pamphlet?? AMAZING.

Obviously, Johnathon Groff is his own personality and is friends with LMM and brings all of that unique stuff to the table that nobody could replicate. But this actor was just as much fun to watch, and does have the added benefit of really looking and sounding the part.

Final Thoughts

I’d really love to hear other people’s thoughts on this run, especially from the perspective of it being an Australian cast/audience – I really hoped the booklet would include at least a piece or two from someone who worked on this run, but it did not. (In fact, it was one of the scantest musical books I’ve seen? I don’t regret buying it as a souvenir of course but usually they have at least one or two interesting pieces of new content aside from just backstage pics…)

What really sticks out to me is the structure of it all. Hamilton is definitely the central character that brings everything together through the first ¾, but around The Room Where it Happens Burr starts to take over bit by bit, allowing him to keep up the energy as Hamilton falls back further and further into becoming both less of a hero but also more quiet and passive. By The Election of 1800, Burr is giving us all the energy – until the end of The World Was Wide Enough, when he too falls back and Eliza takes over.

Given this, this Hamilton did an incredible job throughout most of the performance – he had amazing chemistry with every other character and really exemplified that scrappy, intelligent, driven, but aggressive and difficult character that never quite shined through in LMM’s performance for me. Burr’s more subtle performance complements that well, and he even arguably outdoes Leslie Odom Junior in The Election of 1800. However, after that I think his quieter acting and singing sort of fails to fill the hole Hamilton left behind, reducing the climax a bit of its energy. Thankfully, Eliza was able to bring that all back for her final number.

It also strikes me that this performance is a bit less teary, at least from the men. Eliza, Angelica, and Maria all bring out that vulnerability and the sadness of their positions wonderfully – a great improvement in Maria’s case, for me. However, Burr’s The World Was Wide Enough severely downplays the sincere regret angle, while Hamilton never quite hits the right notes on It’s Quiet Uptown. However, Hurricane and Phillip’s performance in Blow You All Away definitely hit that fear and panic leading to self-destruction. (Interesting I guess that Burr doesn’t also seem more fearful in The World Was Wide Enough?) Is that also a gendered expectations thing, perhaps?

Either way, I’m extremely glad I was able to see it if only for Hamilton’s performance – honestly, maybe the reason it seemed to lose a lil steam was just that Hurricane was so good everything else failed to follow it, haha. Burr also absolutely fascinated me here, too, and that was so much fun to see play out in real time!

Hamilton will be coming to Melbourne next, and I’m not sure yet if I’ll be able to go there but I’d really like to! It’d be really fun to test out these expectations/conclusions of mine with a fresh viewing, as well as see any other new cast changes/interpretations…!

#Hamilton #Hamilton Sydney #musical #this is INCREDIBLY long lmfao #IDK if I should apologise or the opposite #I miiiight end up xposting to ao3 as well as a meta #if I can be bothered to read it through and edit it a bit maybe heh

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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 4 years ago

Note

As someone that likes both Sansa and Arya, what’s your take on Ned’s parenting? I feel like Ned really needed to sit them down together after the trident and explain to them the dangers of the Lannisters as well as drawing a line for acceptable behavior. Say to Sansa: you cannot tell Arya you wish she was dead. Say to Arya: it doesn’t matter what Sansa says, you cannot beat her up. Ned never talks to Sansa after he kills Lady and his talks with Arya aren’t enough. (Sorry for sending all the asks

Oh my gosh don’t worry about it. I love asks…I’m just sometimes slow with them. Fair warning, this got...long

At his core Ned loves his children; he really does. He also doesn’t know them super well or at least isn’t super in touch with them and he is not in charge of raising them. Which is pretty on par with the Westerosi fathers we see. He’s still a heck of a lot better than Bobby B and Roose Bolton over there. There’s still some distance there. Which again considering the universe Martin has made and the social standing it makes sense.

Ned does kinda sorta address the don’t-hit-your-sister thing with Arya when he finds Needle. But, admittedly, it is kind of a joke.

“For true." He smiled. "If I took it away, no doubt I'd find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within the fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation.” – Arya II, AgoT

But I think part of the reason he isn’t that worried is that even Sansa is surprised when Arya hits her.

“Arya, stop it!" Ned shouted. Jory pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansa was pale and shaking as Ned lifted her back to her feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked, but she was staring at Arya, and she did not seem to hear.” – Eddard III, AGoT

After that the worst Arya does to her is throw a piece of orange at her and while it was unkind and Arya needed to be reprimanded for it, it wasn’t like it was unprovoked. This isn’t like the show where Arya sheep-shifted Sansa’s bed (that still annoys me) and threw fruit at her at the feast for the king for fun. When Arya does it, they are arguing about Mycah…the same subject that had Arya kicking her sister.

“Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. "Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them."

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince.” – Sansa III, AGoT

Feels like the adult sitting right there should have ended that conversation.

It doesn’t matter if Sansa is in the right not to be mad at the royal family or that she can’t. The issue is that Arya is 9 and has a thing about lying and is traumatized. Remember even though it is never brought up again, Arya is hiding in the woods for three days. A 9-year-old little girl. In the woods. In Westeros. The fact Ned didn’t turn around or send at least Arya back is honestly one of the times I wish I could shake a fiction character and demand answers. Why Arya was in the south in the first place still boggles me, but I’ll get back to that.

It takes Ned until Sansa III to actually talk to the girls together. This should have been like Eddard IV or Sansa II or something. Sansa III is a bit too late and we can see that because Sansa is just plain mean in this chapter, the girl has reached a breaking point. Arya ruins her dress. Which is bad, no argument here. The issue is that she gets an apology. She gets one in front of Ned and refuses to accept it.

“Enough, Sansa." Lord Eddard's voice was sharp with impatience.

Arya raised her eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness."

Sansa was so startled that for a moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. "What about my dress?” – Sansa III, AGoT

This conversation between the girls goes on for a pretty minute in front of Ned. Instead of just standing there he could have given some Stark speech about forgiveness or something. Instead he just lets it go until he tells them that they are leaving and just kind of does his best to comfort Sansa about not being queen and dips. That’s it. He doesn’t mention that fact that Arya came up with two different ways to make it up to Sansa. What he should have done was tell Arya she had to mend the dress or clean it or whatever because she messed it up and tell Sansa that that was the way her dress is getting fixed. You don’t let it just go on like that. They are 11 and 9, they don’t know when enough is enough it why some voice of reason is needed.

Part of the issue is, as mentioned above, Westerosi highborns parents aren’t how we think of parents. They are pretty hands off. Martin doesn’t even let us see Arya and Cat together. Ned bit off more than he could chew. To be honest, I’m still unsure why he brought Arya along. He never really tells us and even Cat just chalks it up to her needing refinement.

“You must," he said. "Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too.” - Cat II, AGoT

I guess the plan was to marry Arya off to a Southern lord? He didn’t need her to go to keep Sansa company, Jeyne was already going. It was just a bad plan. And then you add the incident at the Trident (aka Joff “kitten killer” Baratheon is left unsupervised and adults suck at the Trident) and the depression and trauma that both girls face and it gets worse.

At least he gets Arya Syrio. What does Sansa get? She wanted high harp lessons, find a harpist or whatever. If you can find the first sword of Bravos just wandering around you can find someone who plays the harp. It would have given Sansa an outlet that she needed as well as maybe putting a balance in her life. A different perspective or something.

Ned should have talked to both girls about going to KL. He should have had joint and separate conversations. Contrary to fandom belief 11 and 9 are different ages. Sansa can take a little bit more information because she is older. Why he doesn’t give it to her is a different question. I think he relies on the Septa to do it. If Arya hadn’t spiraled and had a weapon, I dont think he’d have a big sit-down with her. The issue with letting the septa take charge instead is that the septa doesn’t really get the political intrigue either because that just isnt her job.

I think Ned is a man who loves his children and got way in over his head. In different universe where the incident at the Trident doesn’t happen and the court is a bit more stable (IDK Baelish gets lost at sea or something), then i think it might be kinda okay. There would still be problems, but they might seem less severe.

#Arya Stark #Sansa Stark #Ned Stark #They need super nanny #they really do #valyrianscrolls #ASoIaF #Ned tries #He really does #i still love ya ned

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

Note

Do you have any tips for getting into the headspace of a canon character? Because honestly you have some of the most on point characterizations I've seen

Thank you! I try, and when it came to fic writing it was definitely the thing that scared me most, “getting right” my depictions of the canon characters. For me it’s very much an exercise in Character Voice, as I feel it’s something I struggle with in my own OCs, making sure everyone thinks, feels, acts, sounds distinct.

This...gets long, cuz honestly, I don’t know how to explain it, as there’s no real conscious process for me; just things I do in general and as needed when coming up with scenes or longer fics. So mileage may vary, but I put ideas below the cut. I’ll use Thancred as an example, cuz Twelve know I’ve written too many words about that man and people seem to think they’re IC for him.

I think a lot about character motivations, how they’re shown in canon, and why/how they do things. How their history affects them and their decisions. How their relationships with others affect them. Keeping it as objective as I can while prodding with only the most basic of psychology and literary analysis.

I also tend to be a bit of a internal mimic, starting with voice and body language as I imagine scene and situations and how the character might look/sound/act as I pace or do chores or avoid work or whatever. Mimicking the game’s manner of using archaic terms and sentence structure when writing in general can help, too.

How we speak informs how we think. Eorzea has its own curses, slang, metaphors, turns of phrase, and ways of saying things. I researched thieves cant when writing “Rogue’s Prelude” which involved poking a bit into history and why such code developed in reality. There’s a lot of language and other references in game based loosely around real world history (the origin of the word “gun” for instance), so a little light research in related things helps verisimilitude.

Just all the info I can find on the character and the world they inhabit. Immerse in canon, try to keep fanon separate--though a few fanon theories or friends’ fics/art might also have some influence, if something resonates in particular with me and how I am reading what I see in canon. Talking things through with some other folks, bouncing ideas back and forth--even if we cordially disagree!--can also help see new perspectives or readings of the material. Keeping an open mind and willing to letting mine be changed when someone picks up on something I missed or interpreted differently.

Thancred has the benefit of having a lot of material in the story, being a main figure since 1.0 so I’ve looked up his entries in the lorebooks, the short stories where he’s shown up, and references to him in game/media--even cutscenes and info I can find from 1.0, especially the Ul’dah intros. This is in addition to rewatching cutscenes he features in (watching expressions and body language in addition to voice work), rereading quest text and dialogue he’s involved or even just mentioned in; how other characters see and talk about him is also important.

I also look at all the info I can for Limsa, particularly pre-Merlwyb’s reforms, as that’s where Thancred grew up and would have a strong influence on him. Run around and watch/listen to NPCs in that city; for example, many in Limsa are really casual about sex and talk about it a lot. So is it any surprise early Thancred is also casual about sex and acts a charmer as part of his cover? While also, as a Limsan trained rogue, quick to watch for and throw down on potential threats? Raised alone on the street, he was always watching his back, after all, and had some rough interacts, especially when a small kid--and all that left him wary, and cagey, and unable to express himself healthily emotionally, as we saw in ShB. His techniques were refined in Sharlayan, and his main motivation has become the protection of his Scion family.

I look into what I can for Sharlayan, as that’s where most of the core Scions are from, or at least educated, and since we don’t have much, overlay my own academic memories and knowledge on it (the idea of doing a thesis to get Archon rank makes sense to me and validates a lot of my headcanons about the city of knowledge and I wanna know if/what Thancred and Yda’s were now...).

This may seem like a lot, but really, it just sorta happens as I absorb info and take notes and screenshots for things that catch my attention for whatever reason, especially if I want to remember something specific. If I set a fic at a certain time or place, I go back and refresh myself on the dialogue/quests/etc around it.

When it comes to the actual writing, it’s not how I, Lyn, would react to a lot of things, nor how my OCs might react to things--because this is Thancred’s background, and his personality as we have seen in game over time. Separating myself and thinking about it from an outside, other person’s perspective, even if it’s not one I agree with or like. Trying to hear his dialogue in either Taliesin Jaffe or Peter Bramhill’s voices and the way they deliver Thancred’s lines (since I play and read in English).

And I have to consider when creating plot and how he would react to things depending on points in the canon. ARR Thancred is a bit different from HW Thancred is a bit different from ShB Thancred, after all. Sometimes I need refreshers on those parts of the story. And then how does interaction with my character(s) affect him, based on that backstory, that training, those ideas shown, how do I believably expand on that? How do I mimic him as I write, imagining the voice actors saying the lines and imagining the body language?

And the usual writing advice: just get the ideas down, and then go back, reread, edit and revise. Keep anything you cut as practice, to poke at later, maybe use in another idea.

Then yeet it into the void and hope it worked. I’m always pleased--and relieved!--when I get comments about how the characters feel and sound “right”.

#Anonymous #writing #blogging #about me #hope this helps?

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feyhawon · 5 years ago

Text

ok well i was working on getting proper pages finally set up and i accidentally lost an 85% complete biography page so i guess we’re still waiting to rewrite that but at least i have a formal profile page up now.

IN ADDITION i am also putting some plots up for grabs! check those out under the cut, and feel free to send me a message if anything catches your eye!

LONGTERM&RELATIONSHIP

BROTHER IN LAW TO BE (0/1); male, wongyeong witch, 22-28 years old

joowon, his older sister, has been promised to this witch since she was nineteen years old. details can be discussed, but i imagine that since she’s now in her mid-twenties the families want them to wed soon.

COUSINS (0/?); any gender, gwiin or jaeseung witch, any age

they grew up meeting at family gatherings, maybe they got along well or maybe they bickered at everything. details can be discussed and refined between muses, but some ideas include, but are not limited to:

BEST FRIENDS SINCE BIRTH: the two act as if they’re siblings and have been inseparable since the first time they met. maybe they went to the same high school, maybe they terrorized their classmates together with sharp tongues that aren’t afraid of anyone.

ARE YOU SURE WE’RE RELATED: despite shared blood, they just simply do not get along. they fight like cats and dogs, sometimes disagreeing just to disagree and fight some more. but at the end of the day, they’re still family, and if anyone messed with one, they’d have the other to answer to.

CLASSMATES, FORMER AND CURRENT (0/?); any age or genera, 18-22 years old

hawon is, unfortunately, a very lazy student, but he’s also a very social one. he wasn’t king of the class by any means, but he certainly was known around his high school campus. now in college, he’s built up a similar charismatic reputation for himself. some classmate ideas include but are not limited to:

FATE HATES: back in high school, you couldn’t stand hawon. he was too loud, too disruptive, and you were there to study and get your work done. maybe you even told him to his face that he’d never get into college with his behavior. but oh, what’s this? you’re both attending the same university now and you’ll have to deal with his antics for another couple years? fate must really have it out for you.

DOUBLE TROUBLE: preferably high school, but could go for college as well. the two were best friends and twin terrors to the school. outspoken, cracking jokes and talking out of turn, the two of them landed themselves in detention about a hundred times. that’s okay though, if terror #2 wasn’t already a witch themself, hawon revealed his witchy secret and would use a little magic to help them clean the classroom and get out quicker.

HOMEWORK HELP: hawon might be a lazy student, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t totally care about his grades. you’re his go-to study buddy, the person who can keep him on track even when his mind is wandering a thousand miles away. maybe it’s annoying to have to help the guy so often, or maybe you sorta enjoy his company.

UNOBTAINABLE OBJECT (0/1); any gender or genera, 18-22 years old

you’ve admired hawon for a while. he’s flirted with you a little bit too, but every time you think you’re getting somewhere with him, he suddenly backs off and doesn’t speak to you for a few days. rinse and repeat. honestly, hawon doesn’t have any interest in you and isn’t intentionally leading you on, but he can’t help the jokes he makes and the way he is. when is enough enough?

FRIENDS WITH MY EX (0/1); any gender or genera, 18-22 years old

they dated, maybe even just briefly in high school, but they quickly learned that they make much better friends than lovers. they stayed close to this day, maybe even still flirt playfully a bit, but otherwise they know that it’d never work out between them. they have a great time when they hang out anyways though.

BLOOD THIEF (0/?); any gender, vampires, any age

witches may not taste all that great to vampires, but undead blood is such largely unexplored potential when it comes to magical potions and spells. could a kind vampire let hawon borrow a little blood every now and then to experiment with? he promises it won’t hurt, he only needs a small vial or so...

DOWN, BOY (0/1); any gender, familiar, any age

a familiar is supposed to want to be bound to a witch, right? and a witch is supposed to want to have a familiar to help them out, aren’t they? well, it turns out that hawon has commitment issues, and no matter how well you think you get along with each other, he has no interest in taking on a familiar at this time.

CAT & MOUSE (0/1); any gender, hunter, any age

hawon might not have been the target, but his boisterous personality has certainly made him a target, if only because you want him to shut up. there’s really no reason to kill the young witch, but you threaten him often. he, in return, calls your bluff. it’s been a long game between the two, hawon somehow always wriggling his way out even when you really think you’re gonna pull the trigger this time.

SCENARIOS

open to any age, genera, or gender unless otherwise specified

hawon sold you a fake charm and you figured it out quickly. he’ll replace it if you start making demands of him, but wait, don’t attack his character. it wasn’t supposed to be a scam, he was just lazy and didn’t think you’d notice the difference.

you recognize that voice. that’s the same person that you/your family member/your friend was calling on the phone for a psychic reading! for some reason, you didn’t expect a telephone psychic to look so... normal. or young. but you might have to confront him about the fortune he told or the money you/your family/friend wasted on his call.

do you want to know your future? hawon can predict it for you, if properly motivated. but he’s such an easy liar that you’re not sure you can trust what he says anyways. maybe talking to this witch was a mistake.

someone point out to him the irony that the only animal protein he’ll eat is fish, but he burns the cleaned bones of other animals to predict the future. that’s gotta be breaking some sort of pescatarian rule, right?

(18-22 years old) hawon hits on you, jokingly. he doesn’t expect you to get so flustered, or get as red in the face, but now that he’s seen it he’s just gotta keep tormenting you with his flirty jokes.

plots to be added as i think of them!!

#.ooc #.plot

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thelastspeecher · 5 years ago

Text

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do. And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted. So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort. Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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

“Mr. Pines?” Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through. He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

“What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly. Devin chewed on his lip.

“I, um…” Devin took a breath. “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

“…Yes, I do,” Shermie said. He leaned back in his chair. “How did you know that?”

“Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

“And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued. “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently. “So she told me to- to use this.” Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk. “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper. It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page. The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

“Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice. He cleared his throat. “Do you need this back or-”

“No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies. Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said. Shermie nodded. “Are you upset?”

“What? No! No, I’m not. Just surprised.” Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner. “And thankful. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Devin nodded jerkily. “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

“Right! Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!” Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom. He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

“American Pauper Marries European Princess”? That’s…how did Stan do that? I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely. He’s not refined at all. Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture. There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife. Guilt trickled into Shermie. Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended. It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan. Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess. But still…

“Hi, Mr. Pines!” A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts. He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

“Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice. He shook off the guilt and regret.

I have to focus. My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is. He managed a half-smile. Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

-----

When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer. A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

Lirone? I’ve never heard of it. Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances. Then again, I’m not a geography teacher. He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

“In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding. Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

“What exactly are you doing?” she asked. Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

“I know where my brother is.”

“Well, yeah, so do I. He does research in Oregon.”

“No, not that brother. My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said. Amelia frowned, confused. “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

“Oh! And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

“Yep. That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour. I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

“But now you know where he is.”

“Yes. One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said. Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

“Oh, that can’t be good.”

“No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good. It’s astounding. Stan married a princess.” Amelia’s jaw dropped. “That was my reaction, too.” Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family. “I need to talk to him.”

“Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently. Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents. If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

“I…” Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard. “…You’re right.” A weary weight settled on his shoulders. “He has resources available to him. If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me. But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head. “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me. I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-” Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself. You did what you could.”

“Yes, but-”

“Maybe he just needs time. I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

“Maybe,” Shermie mumbled. Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room. Shermie got up from the computer. “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

“Sure thing,” Amelia said. She kissed him on the cheek. Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up. He glanced back at the computer.

Amelia’s right. I need to let Stan make the first move. But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to. I am still his big brother, after all.

-----

Shermie turned on the news. For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth. He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

But that’s not what’s important at the moment. What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin. Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

“Amelia, would you mind?” he called. The phone stopped ringing. He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone. The news segment changed.

“In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said. Shermie leaned forward. “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws. However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.” A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden. Shermie smiled. “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.” The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

What?

“Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room. She held out the phone. “It’s for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

“It’s Stan.” Shermie’s head whipped around. Amelia nodded. “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?” Shermie held out his hand. “That’s what I thought.” Amelia handed him the phone. Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

“…Stan?” he croaked.

“Yeah.” At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up. “Yeah, it’s- it’s me. Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath. “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

“I know.”

“Wait, you do?” Stan asked. There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call. “Danny-” Stan said something in a foreign language. A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue. “Non.”

“Apr-”

“Non,” Stan said, more firmly. He barked out an order, still not speaking English. There was another muffled commotion. “Sorry about that,” Stan said. “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

“I know. Being a father is difficult.”

“You know about-”

“Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said. “I know you married a princess, who became a queen. I know that you have twin daughters. And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.” Stan was quiet for a moment.

“How?” he finally asked.

“One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married. I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

“I…” Stan seemed at a loss for words. He finally let out a small laugh. “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.” Shermie smiled. “Ford had no clue.”

“Stanford is brilliant. But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Stan cleared his throat. “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

“The news just mentioned that.” Shermie leaned against the back of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

“I didn’t. Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford. Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

“Really? During such a tumultuous time?”

“Yep. It didn’t go well. I, uh, I actually kicked him out. But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling to…” Stan took a breath. “Invite you to the castle.” Shermie sat up straight.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family. I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

“But you don’t want them know Pops?”

“Oh, hell no. If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

“Smart move.”

“But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie. They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.” Stan paused. “And…I wanna see you, too. It’s been a long time.”

“It most definitely has.”

“So you’ll visit?”

“Of course!”

“That’s- that’s great.” Stan sounded relieved. A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call. “I gotta go. But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

“You won’t be-”

“I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said. Shermie’s heart sunk.

Right. He’s a king consort. He has more important things to do.

“We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details. I really- I really gotta go. There’s a debriefing and-” Stan cut himself off. “You don’t need to know about it. All right, bye.”

“Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded. Shermie looked up. Amelia had joined him in the living room. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked. Shermie let out a long sigh.

“It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

-----

Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

“I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything. “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself. He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy. His mouth went dry.

That was a mistake! Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses? They can get anything they want. He took a deep, calming breath. Relax. It’s going to be fine. He resumed looking out the window. While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle. Shermie swallowed.

The town car came to a stop. Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

“Thank you,” Shermie said. The driver merely nodded. Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside. He turned to the driver. “Do you know where Stan is?”

“The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said. Shermie turned around again. A man strode over. He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes. The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake. “The name’s Lute.”

“Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked. Lute grinned.

“Yep.”

“I recognize the name. As well as, to be honest, the nose.” Lute laughed.

“I’m not offended, don’t worry. The royal nose is large and distinctive.” He blew his dark bangs out of his face. “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

“That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said. Lute raised an eyebrow.

“You mentioned it as well.”

“Fair,” Shermie said lightly. The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him. Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

“What’s in there?”

“I-” Shermie rubbed the back of his neck. “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.” Lute was silent. “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

“Why?”

“Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses. They can get whatever they want.”

“Pfft.” Lute snorted. “Not quite. Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes. But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled. Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you. When you give them gifts? They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.” Shermie smiled back hesitantly. Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open. His mouth went dry. A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

“Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan. Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

“Hello, Stanley. It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled. He cleared his throat. “Um, come- come inside. If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

“That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned. “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death? Or be attacked by bears?” Stan rolled his eyes. “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me? No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure. Whatever you say.” Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

“Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly. Stan let out a laugh. Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked. “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

“That’s a high bar, Sherm. They loved it when Ford was here. I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.” Stan looked Shermie up and down. “They’re gonna be disappointed.” Shermie rolled his eyes. Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle. “No use delaying their disappointment! C’mon, Sherm.” Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look. Stan stopped at the door to look back. “I’m a king, Shermie. I can have you court-martialed.”

“You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother. If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

“Fine.” He sighed in an exaggerated manner. “I won’t court-martial you.”

Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.

#King Stansort is technically a variation of my main Stansort AU #they're basically the same but the timelines are slightly different #with Ford finding out where Stan is much earlier in main Stansort than in King Stansort #I highly encourage y'all to check out my King Stansort tag if you haven't heard of this AU of mine #it's one of my faves. lots of good stuff in it.#(btw if you're wondering why Stan seems not quite as rough around the edges and maybe slightly more polite #esp when he's on the phone with Shermie #it's bc of all those diplomacy things that were hammered into him when he married into a royal family)#King Stansort AU #Shermie Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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primeacumen · 7 years ago

Note

✩ For Anar

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Cut because this is a massive wall of text.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Vivian, definitely. She’s an emotional and tempestuous creature by nature. Most of the time she tries to avoid being ‘too’ emotional as she views it as a weakness. However, her anger and impulsivity frequently get the best of her when she isn’t getting her way.Who threatens to leave but never actually does? I’m not sure. Probably a mixture of the two. Depends on how bad it is. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Vivian because she’s overdramatic as hell and hates not getting her way. Not saying she’d go far, but she definitely probably makes herself scarce to casually meditate and talk with the ghost in her head or the Force.Who trashes the house? Vivian. See above explanations. xD Unless Vivian did something really terrible. Like if she died I imagine Anar might casually lose his shit and destroy everything.Do either of them get physical? I think the only way of that either of them ever would if is it was a massive betrayal and involved murder attempts on the other. Even then I think there would be some form of hesitation due to how strong their bond is between them.How often do they argue/disagree? Probably a decent amount. Vivian is definitely more light-sided or neutral than Anar is. Vivian sometimes values “helping” people and being kind to them over being pragmatic and Anar prefers to be pragmatic (and is likely more loyal to the Empire). Vivian prefers to force people to owe her or be ‘surprised’ by how ‘different’ of a Sith she is. While really it’s just manipulation and the two butt heads over this as her way usually isn’t pragmatic at all and ultimately isn’t better for the Empire, but for herself.Who is the first to apologize? Vivian, probably, because she just wants to get the argument over with. Unless it’s something she feels strongly over. Then Anar might have to, otherwise, he’ll be waiting for ever xD

Sex:

Who is on top? AnarWho is on the bottom? VivWho has the strangest desires? I think they’re pretty even on this level.Any kinks? A decent amount! The use of Force powers, Vivian has a kink for belonging to Anar even though she’ll probably never admit it to anyone but him, biting, scratchingWho’s dominant in bed? Anar, Viv can be dominant, she just hates it and prefers him to be in control. It feels more ‘at home’ to her…if that makes sense.Is head ever in the equation? Always, they both love giving and receiving.If so, who is better at performing it? Both. Viv is paranoid and insecure about not being ‘good enough’ for him so she’s probably refined her technique (for him) to perfection. Anar likely has more experience.Ever had sex in public? Probably, Viv can’t keep her hands to herself and Anar has no shame.Who moans the most? Viv, she’s loud in bed always.Who leaves the most marks? Mixture. Viv enjoys being marked by him to show off who she ~belongs to. Viv just likes to casually mark Anar in the same way and enjoys biting and scratching during sex.Who screams the loudest? Probably Viv, see above lmaoWho is the more experienced of the two? Anar, definitely. Viv’s had a ~thing for him since she was very young so didn’t really care to involve herself with anyone else until she started training on Korriban. Once she became an apprentice she threw herself into her work and ~becoming powerful. So no one else or sex really mattered. There were one or two flings, but she didn’t find them satisfying thus didn’t bother repeating.Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Fuck probably, as it’s what she prefers. Though when she’s feeling particularly amorous, making love is definitely on the table. (…Probably literally knowing these two.)Rough or soft? Both? Both is good.How long do they usually last? Awhile, probably. They’re both in pique physical condition and force users. (Not to mention Viv’s libido never seems to end…)Is protection used? On Viv’s end at least it is. She has no intentions of becoming a mother anytime soon and isn’t sure she’d ever be qualified. Nor does she really know what Anar wants and figures he’ll probably want a ~true sith lady eventually.Does it ever get boring? Probably not.Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Imperial Fleet Elevator? That’s the first thing that popped into my head so we’re running with that.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? Vivian’s not, but she figures Anar will probably want to continue his line sometime. She also figures she probably should continue the Kallig line, but the idea weirds her out.If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Two, boy and a girl. Not sure with Anar.Who is the favorite parent? Probably Anar because Viv has exactly 0 chill anyways…and can you imagine a Sith mama bear? Yikes. That’s Viv in a nutshell.Who is the authoritative parent? Both, just in different ways.Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? I don’t think either of them would tbqh. Mostly because it’s important and Korriban. I can’t imagine them having a child who isn’t force sensitive. That bloodline would be wayyyy too strong.Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Both likely.Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both of them.Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Vivian and the possibility of her shocking the hell out of them is significant.Who changes the diapers? The slaves/nannies because let’s face it, Anar would totally have them help and Viv ain’t going near that.Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? ^ See above. Otherwise I imagine they’d probably switch off.Who spends the most time with the children? Depends on the time period. On one hand, Viv likes to run off looking for ancient relics. On the other, if they’re ruling Zakuul they’d both have more time.Who packs their lunch boxes? Servants.Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Anar, because Viv would probably overshare. Or a private tutor.Who cleans up after the kids? ServantsWho worries the most? Since it’s their offspring, I imagine they’d both worry pretty equally, though perhaps over different things.Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Vivian probably.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both.Who is the little spoon? VivWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Unsure! Viv probably?Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Viv, though Anar is a close runner-up.How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Viv is going to cling to him like a sloth, so hopefully a long ass time. xDWho gives the most kisses? Anar, probably. Viv is more touchy feely, but not necessarily with kisses.What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Drinking tea together and just talking. Otherwise, I imagine they just like to go on quiet walks together on Clamus.Where is their favourite place to cuddle? On their ships or in their homes. Someplace a bit more private.Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Viv!How often do they get time to themselves? Probably a good amount. Since they have a strong force bond they don’t really have to physically be around one another to feel the other which makes being apart much easier than normal. They both prefer to physically be around the other, but both get ample alone time.

Sleeping:

Who snores? If anyone does, it’s Anar. Though I imagine it’s more talking in his sleep kind of thing.If both do, who snores the loudest? ^Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Depends on where they are/when. Viv strongly prefers to share though.If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up.Who talks in their sleep? Anar mostly. Viv sometimes does as well, though swears up and down she doesn’t.What do they wear to bed? Anar wears nothing. Viv usually will just put on whatever’s comfortable, much to Anar’s horror and as a result he usually buys her more fashionable things or comfy lingerie.Are either of your muses insomniacs? I don’t think Anar is, but Vivian has issues sometimes because of the ghost in her head and because of a lot of the things that happened in her life. I imagine Anar has bad nights as well and Vivian usually stays up with him and supports him as best as she can.Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? NopeDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Intertwined.Who wakes up with bed hair? Viv! She has so much of it.Who wakes up first? Viv, she’s a morning person usually.Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Probably depends on the day and if either are feeling particularly romantic.What is their favourite sleeping position? Viv likes to sleep on her side or against Anar’s chest. Anar sleeps on his back or curls around Viv. (Big Sith, Little Sith)Who hogs the sheets? Anar, because Viv is stealing his body heat by pressing her freezing body against him and she won’t move.Do they set an alarm each night? Probably? They have droids for that though.Can a television be found in their bedroom? Most likely.Who has nightmares? Both of them do with regular frequency.Who has ridiculous dreams? Viv as she also sees stuff from her ghost’s past.Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? AnarWho makes the bed? Servants/droids, otherwise it doesn’t get done.What time is bed time? Whenever they feel like.Any routines/rituals before bed? Sex probably. Massages are also appreciated.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Anar definitely. xD

Work:

Who is the busiest? Leaning towards Viv, but pretty equal.Who rakes in the highest income? Viv when she was a Darth.Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope, sorta?Who takes the most sick days? Neither?Who is more likely to turn up late to work? NeitherWho sucks up to their boss? VivianWhat are their jobs? Emperor’s wrath and Darth of Ancient Knowledge. Moreso now things are changing and Viv has no idea what she’s doing other than helping Anar take over Zakuul.Who stresses the most? VivDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Viv has a love/hate with hers and I’m not sure how Anar feels.Are your muses financially stable? Probably!

Home:

Who does the washing? Droids/Servants.Who takes out the trash? Droids/Servants. Who does the ironing? Droids/Servants. Who does the cooking? They alternate since they both have different dishes they like.Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? VivWho is messier? Viv, her ship would be cluttered without her droid.Who leaves the toilet roll empty? AnarWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Viv, Anar has more appreciation towards his clothingWho forgets to flush the toilet? Neither Who is the prankster around the house? NeitherWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? NeitherWho mows the lawn? Droids/Servants. Who answers the telephone? NOT SUREWho does the vacuuming? Droids/Servants. Who does the groceries? Droids/Servants or VivWho takes the longest to shower? Both take terribly long showersWho spends the most time in the bathroom? Anar

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? NopeHow many cars do they own? 2-3ish ships?Do they own their home or do they rent? Uh..not sure ‘cause Star Wars.Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Viv prefers coastline and Anar prefers the countryside, so who knows who wins there. Probably one of each. I think Anar’s home on Clamus is in the forest/countryside though. (I think.)Do they live in the city or in the country? ^ Unless we’re counting strongholds too.Do they enjoy their surroundings? YesWhat’s their song? Bloodsport - Raleigh Ritchie (at least that’s my favorite on the playlist I’m slowly building for them)What do they do when they’re away from each other? I’m not sure about Anar, but Viv usually frequently reaches out through their bond to make sure he’s alright and vice versa. Otherwise, she usually sends him sassy holocomm messages about the cool relics she finds, ancient sith texts, or the idiots she has to work with. Also anytime she sees something he’d like she buys it for him.Where did they first meet? Clamus, his house.How did they first meet? Viv was a slave to his household and she was born into that life. They’re roughly around the same age so they met fairly early on even though they didn’t grow close until later on. Who spends the most money when out shopping? Anar, definitely.Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Anar xDWho finds it amusing when the other trips over? I’m not sure!Any mental issues? Both of them seem to have some degree of PTSD due to dealing with the war, betrayels, and people trying to kill them.Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.Who kills the spiders around the house? Anar probably.Their favorite place? Clamus! Vivian also has soft spots for Voss and Korriban though.Who pays the bills? AnarDo they have any fears for their future? I think they both have different fears. I’m not entirely sure what Anar’s are, but Vivian is afraid of dying alone, having Anar and the other people closest to her betray her, and not being remembered for her massive contributions to the Empire as well as how powerful she is.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Both!Who uses up all of the hot water? Both xDWho’s the tallest? AnarWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but I’m going to lean with Viv.Who wanders around in their underwear? Viv because Anar wanders around naked.Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Viv, sometimes to be annoying.What do they tease each other about? How short Viv is, their individual aliases, their companions, Viv’s terrible accent when speaking High Sith, Anar’s jewelry, etc.Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? ANAR. Vivian is 100% the type who puts comfort before fashion as well as utility. She’ll throw on whatever armor is the best and not worry how it looks. The only reason she has any fashion sense at all is because of Anar.Do they have mutual friends? Yep! I think so! Their companions and some other sith probably.Who crushed first? Vivian. She’s had a thing for him since she was a little girl/teenager.Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nope!Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Anar, or neither.Who swears the most? Viv (I think!)

#⋞ ‘when the stars align.’ answered ⋟#anierous-sunblade #dxrthsanguine #peace is a lie ( kallig )

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fallen029 · 8 years ago

Text

Last Month: Lazy Afternoons

If there was anything that Lana Dreyar loved, it was apples. And trips the park. Ice cream. Her pet doggies (brothers). Tickle fights. Stuffed animals. Ooh, and she really, really liked puppet shows.

Somewhere very high up there, however, was her daddy. And her mother as well, of course. Really, if it came down to it and she actually had any reasoning skills above if she bit, she'd get put in timeout, she might have understood this concept. Since she was only three, however, the hopes of that happening anytime soon were zilch.

But she was sincere in her ways. She did care very deeply for her parents. Perhaps at times not as much as ice cream or apples (food, duh), but certainly a lot. They did a lot of things for her, after all. Sure, her aunts and uncles and other random babysitters did a lot for her, but even in her young age, she realized that most of her time (and their energy) was spent with them doing things for her.

Or stopping her from doing things.

Like eating random things.

Lana really liked eating things.

Even non-food things.

She didn't like them so much then when they stopped her from eating things, but she did still love them. And, maybe, one day she'd be thankful they'd done so.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But maybe.

Anyhow, one of their favorite things to do for her (if only because it was the easiest) was entertain her with stories. Laxus, her father, took on this job more often than her mother, if only because, well, the man was quite self-centered and loved to talk about all the adventures he had partaken in during his more request filled days. Sure, Lana wasn't necessarily a captive audience, but she was an audience, which was definitely great. Definitely.

Sometimes though, when they were having a lazy day and Mirajane didn't have anything more fun planned for them to do (she was constantly trying to fill their time together with such things), her mother might tell her a story. If she asked, that was.

Such was one of those times as they laid in bed one day, in the middle of the afternoon. Mirajane had just gotten off work and wanted to catch a nap, which just so happened to coincide with Lana's usual nap time. And Laxus was there too because there was no way that he would miss an opportunity to be with both his girls (or at least that's what he said; in actuality, all of the Thunder Legion already had plans). The doggies (Lana's brothers) were there too, Tenjin sleeping at the foot of the bed and Raijin, always the attention hog, with his face in Mirajane's, begging his mother for kisses and pets.

It was while she was gently stroking the dog's soft, golden fur that Lana, who wasn't tired and was happily singing to her father (he was trying to be just as happy listening; she'd been singing for twenty minutes), noticed something on her mother's hand.

"That's ring," she explained loudly to them all. Tenjin, down on the edge of the bed, twitched his ears at the sound. "Mommy."

"Hmmm?" Mirajane glanced at her daughter. "What, baby?"

"Ring, Mommy," she explained to the woman, reaching out to pat at her hand. "Ring."

"That is a ring, isn't it?" the woman agreed, moving then to admire it as well, much to the annoyance of poor Raijin, who wanted more attention right that second. "You're so smart." Then, giggling, Mirajane added, "It's my wedding ring. You know that, huh?"

Maybe. Maybe not. What she did know, however, was how impressed her father was when she showed off her very broad (in his mind) vocabulary.

"Good, Lana," Laxus yawned, reaching over to gently ruffle her white locks. "My good little baby dragon. Huh, hatchling?"

Meh.

Still, she giggled, rubbing her head into his touch while Mirajane just sat up some, still staring at her wedding ring.

"Have you never noticed my ring before, baby?" the woman asked though, by that point, she'd more or less lost the child as Lana moved to pounce on her daddy dragon, the man falling willingly back onto his back at the attack. "It's pretty, isn't it?'

One could call it that. If they wanted to. Lana didn't. But whatever.

"Daddy," she giggled as she sat victoriously atop his chest. "Fall down."

"That's just 'cause you're so strong," he conceded. "You- Hey! Raijin! Stop licking me! Mirajane!"

She was far more busy admiring her engagement ring and wedding band, which both sat on her finger. Mmmm.

"You know who gave me this, don't you, Lana?" she asked as, bored with her father who was mostly just yelling at her biggest brother, Raijin, the toddler climbed right off his chest and back across the bed to her mother.

"No."

"Yes, you do," she said as the white haired child only sat there, her father wrestling with the overly energetic Raijin behind her. "Daddy did. At our wedding."

Hmmm. Then, "I 'member."

"No," Mira giggled. "You don't, silly."

"Yes."

"You weren't there, honey. It was before you were- Laxus, do not hurt him!"

"He's biting me!"

'It's love bites, you big jerk." Then, in a softer voice, she called out, "Come to Mommy's side, Raijin. Daddy's in a bad mood."

"I am not," he growled as, finally, Raijin bounded back across the space to Mirajane. Tenjin, finally, lifted his head a bit, staring up the bed at all of them. "I just don't want him slobbering all over me."

"Sure."

"I don't. I-"

"Daddy." Lana was turning her attention back to him once more, glancing back at the man. "You give Mommy ring?"

"I gave it to her," he corrected. "And of course. What sorta sorry dragon do I look like to you, baby demon? Huh? I'm a man of culture. Refined taste. Of course I treat my woman to much of the same."

When Lana just stared, Mirajane said, "Yes. He did. Because he loves me."

"Well, yeah, there's that," the slayer agreed, Lana giggling just from the word. Love. She loved the word love. Mostly because it usually meant kisses were coming soon. "But a lot more too."

"Give Daddy ring?" she asked her mother then. "Mommy?"

"Huh?" Mirajane was stroking the diamond then, on the engagement ring, still able to recall the day it was presented to her. "Oh, no, sweetie. Girls don't buy the rings. Boys do."

"Daddy have ring." She pointed then to the gold band the man was sporting.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't buy it for him," Mirajane said. Then she frowned. "I put it on his finger, I guess, at the wedding, but rings are more of a woman's thing. Not a man's. It's a whole ordeal, after all, Lana. Picking out a ring for a woman you love."

Laxus shrugged as he sat up some. "I just went in, told the guy how much I's gonna spend, and then bought the one that looked the biggest."

"You did not."

"I did too."

"Shut up, Laxus," Mirajane told him with a frown. "You're only confusing her."

"Mirajane, she's not even following the conversation! And hasn't been since it started. So-"

"Funny," his wife complained. "When you're telling a story, suddenly she has the comprehension skills of an adult."

"A young adult."

"Lax-"

"Daddy took tons of jobs, Lana," the man said, gently tugging the girl back over to him. She fought him for a moment, just to be obstinate, but gave in when he placed a kiss to the top of her head. "To save up for that ring. Because I do love Mommy. And I knew how much it would mean to her, when I gave it to her. And then I had to save up again, for her wedding-"

"It wasn't that expensive," his wife complained. He just stared over at her. "It wasn't. Just...a few S-Class jobs worth of jewels."

Grunt. Then he snuggled Lana a bit. "I would spend a lot more on yours, Lana, but you're not gonna get married, are you?"

Not if she had to wear a stuffy dress like she'd seen in her mother's wedding photos, she wasn't. It was bad enough when they made her wear them now, for important events. One would think it would be cool, not having to wear pants, but it wasn't. Dresses were always getting snagged on stuff or tracked through the mud and then Aunt Ever would scold her for not being lady like and Mommy would complain about having to clean it later and ugh! Lana just liked running around naked. Then she could just take a bath and be done with it.

Honestly, she didn't understand why everyone didn't feel that way, as she'd yet to learn the definition of modesty much less decency. After all, she sometimes ate off the floor and regularly liked to smell her feet (they were quite interesting at times).

"Yes, she is," Mirajane said a tad forcefully. "She has to."

"Why does she have to?" The slayer raised an eyebrow at his wife. "You sayin' that Lana can't be a strong, independent woman? That she needs a man in her life to define her? Huh?"

"No," the woman sang. "I just want to plan her wedding."

Heh. Figures.

"Well, Lana's not getting married," Laxus informed Mirajane. "She's gonna live with me forever."

"I do not agree with that idea."

"I'm sorry, did I say that you were allowed to stay with us?"

"Don't get on my nerves right now, Laxus." She didn't even glance at him. "Not while I'm reliving how amazing our engagement was."

"It wasn't great! I was gone constantly, trying to get money, nearly the entire time."

"Yeah," she agreed, "while I got to sit around and plan our wedding. That sounds perfect to me."

"You hear that, Lana?" He nuzzled his head against his baby's. "Your mother's over there picking on me. Tell her, baby, how that's not allowed."

"No' woud!"

"Yeah," Laxus agreed, glaring over at Mirajane who, at the moment, was trying to keep Raijin from nuzzling up against her, so she could continue staring at her diamond. "Not allowed, Mira."

"Do you know what else Daddy gave me, Lana?" the woman asked then, glancing over at the two of them. "On the night he proposed?"

"Mira," the slayer complained, ceasing his snuggles of their daughter to throw his hands over her ears. "Don't talk about that in front of-"

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked back with a frown.

"Not whatever the heck you think we did when you proposed," the woman complained as Lana titled her head back, staring up at her father while also patting at his hands, which were still firmly over her precious little tiny dragon ears. "I'm talking about how we went on that train and to the-"

"Oh." He dropped his hands then, much to the enjoyment of the giggling Lana. "Alright then. Carry on. And listen up, hatchling. This is important."

"Oh, it's important now?" Mira tsked.

"If you're braggin' on me, then totally."

"To'ly," Lana agreed, nodding at her mother. Still, the woman only smiled and Raijin moved to lick at his (pretend) sister's face. Tenjin had already fallen asleep, however, and ignored them completely. "Mommy."

"Well, sweetheart, before we were rudely interrupted," the woman began, "I was going to tell you about how, before he proposed, Daddy took me on a train ride. And you know how much he hates trains-"

"No, she doesn't," the dragon complained. "Because that's not true."

"Sure."

"It's not."

"Well, anyhow, Lana," Mirajane went on. "He took me on this train, right? Out of town? And it was so much fun! We used to never leave Magnolia for dates. We still don't. Ever. Go on dates now, I mean, but-"

"Mira," Laxus complained. "I went out and got us dinner just last week."

"And we ate it in separate rooms."

"It's not my fault you didn't wanna eat in me and Lana's fort," the slayer retorted. "All yours."

"All you's," Lana repeated. "All you's."

"You know, honey, you could repeat after me sometimes," Mirajane pointed out. "It wouldn't be horrible."

Nothing. Just Lana and Laxus sitting there, waiting for the rest of the story. And Tenjin nappin' some more (he'd spent the entire night before howling loudly at the moon; literally entire) while his big brother Raijin rolled onto his back to get his belly rubbed.

"Well, anyways," Mira went on when it was clear she wasn't going to get what she wanted. "We went on a train, out of town, and Daddy booked us these great reservations at this fancy hotel. And at this great restaurant, really close by."

"Is that what I got you?" the slayer asked with a frown. "Oh. I thought you were going to say when we got back to the room and-"

"Laxus!"

"What? I wasn't gonna say it."

Heh.

"So," Mirajane began once more, loudly than before. "we spent, literally, the whole weekend up there and we didn't call home or anything. After that first night, when he proposed, I mostly just sat around and stared at my ring. And you sat around and stared at me, huh, dragon?"

"More like the bill you were rackin' up."

"You'd promised me room service."

"I said nothing about those bottles of wine you kept-"

"It was implied."

"Sure."

"You give Mommy ring," Lana said with a giggle, snuggling up to Laxus then as she stared up at his face. "No give you nothin'."

"Hey, that's right." The slayer sighed. "I guess I was just a better fiance than she was."

"I gave you Lana," the woman pointed out, shifting away from Raijin then and across the big bed over to where her baby and husband were. Grinning at him, she said, "And I think that is worth way more than a silly ring."

"Definitely," he agreed with a nod. "Sentimentally and jewel-wise."

"Laxus."

"It's true. My baby's expensive. She always needs stuff." Then, directing his question towards Lana, he asked, "Do you need new toys, Lana?"

She knew how to answer that question. "Yes!"

"And new clothes?"

"Yes!"

"How about some new little hair ties for when Mommy does your hair real nice?"

"Yes!" Her voice was so high pitched then and full of enthusiasm that, finally, Tenjin had to bound up the bed, Raijin not far behind, to attack their little sister.

"You knock it off, you disgusting beasts," Laxus complained as the toddler giggled, shoving at the slobbering mutts. "Have you no couth?"

No. Not at all.

Did he forget that they were just poor, senseless doggies?

"Leave 'em alone, Lax," Mira complained, settling slowly back into the bed once more. "They're playing. Aren't you, Lana?"

"Yes!"

"Well… And hey, demon, you didn't finish tellin' her how awesome I am!"

"I told her about how you got me reservations at a hotel," the woman pointed out as she snuggled under the blankets, turning to face away from them. "And dinner. And a bunch of wine. Oh, and the ring. What more do you want, Lax?"

A lot. But, staring over at his wife, who was clearly exhausted after her packed work schedule the past few days, he just wanted to be right there, right then, with her and their...children. And, with a sigh, he settled back into the bed as well.

"Nothin'" he told her as, finally, the dogs ditched Lana for the sound of another dog barking, somewhere off in the distance. They high tailed it right out of the bedroom to go run around the house and bark for a bit.

It was okay though. They'd be back in ten minutes when they finally got scared of the other dog (and perhaps, even, the echos of their own barks that they mistook for other dogs), leaving them to rush back to the safety of their parents. Mostly their daddy. He'd bark right back at the other dog! Err, rather, them for disturbing him, but it had the same effect.

"Raijin!" Lana complained, trying to crawl after them as they ran out the open bedroom door. "Tenjin!"

"No, hatchling." Laxus pulled her right back though. "You stay with me and Mommy. They'll be fine with out you. Trust me."

Always.

Just not when it came to her brothers.

He seemed to be rather annoyed with them most days.

"Mmmm," Mirajane moaned, back still to them as she settled out. "Let's all be quiet for a bit, huh, Lana? It's nap time. Okay? For Mommy?"

If she had to…

Laxus, however, just snuggled up too Lana, not giving her the chance to escape on them, while staring over at his wife. "I'll wake you for dinner, Mira."

She just laid there though, facing towards the door way, staring absently down at her hand as she considered sleep.

Even all those years out, it was the best diamond she'd ever seen.

"You're buying?"

"I'm making."

Through a yawn, she added, "And we'll eat together?"

Nuzzling against Lana who, finally, seemed to be done fighting the fact she was tired, he said, "We'll eat together."

Link to Full Series

#Miraxus #Laxus Dreyar #Mirajane Strauss #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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bastardsunlight · 6 years ago

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A flash of light deposited the strange pair in the middle of what looked like a wasteland of dust, stone, and corrugated steel. Everything was rusty, dusty, and appeared to be held together by bolts that were older than the structures—if they could have been called that—themselves, ancient even when first employed. Chris could have sworn he spied something precariously perched atop a pole, adhered thereto by at least half a roll of duct tape.

He noted, too, the parts of the landscape that appeared somewhat newer. They were pipes, whole networks of them, stretched out across the vista, running right through what he had always imagined the old Hooverville pop-up homeless towns to resemble, but with a Quonset hut or two to offset the utter fragility of the place. There were tires embedded here and there, and between those were rudimentary crosses—clearly this was a graveyard—and what was not covered in dust had accumulated wide puddles of hissing, purple sludge.

“Welcome to Fyrestone,” rasped Chris’s tall, slender companion, tossing his arm out in a wide arc to indicate the place. The sign was hanging by a bolt or two, but the word “Fyrestone” was clearly emblazoned upon the piece of whatever-it-was that had once proclaimed the town’s name. Again, Chris found the idea of calling this place a “town” a bit dubious, but he supposed that, in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. Their purpose here was simple and twofold. The first object had been to test the portal’s integrity going the other direction. The spark of energy which had brought Mordecai to them might have backfired on them when sending the hunter and Chris back over to the side Wesker had conceded to call “Pandora”, on account of that being the name of the planet. A raucous howl resounded from somewhere down a nearby hill and Mordecai whistled sharply.

A beast crested the rise, coming up from the ditch and presumably its den. Its face opened to either side, revealing a ravenous, vertical mouth, lined with teeth and slobber. Two more followed closely behind, smaller than the first, but no less ferocious. Chris went for his weapon, but Mordecai’s hand on his shoulder stayed him. “Lunch,” he said, not without the ring of dark amusement in his voice.

Presently, and utterly without warning, a blur of feathers and violence divebombed out of the sky, landing squarely atop the first beast’s head. It did not stay long, however, as it had already brained the thing, ripping through its armored flesh and setting it ablaze. The thing howled, but the flying creature was not finished. It bombarded the second and third things—skags, Chris would soon learn was their name—and rained a similar method of destruction down upon them as well. Led by some invisible force, it continued its path back down into the ditch, toward the source of the skags, divebombing anything that moved and leaving it a smoldering heap of crisp wreckage.

“That’s the bird you were telling me about?”

Mordecai nodded and stuck his arm out. It was a twiggy thing, wrapped top to bottom in bandages and leather armor, a patchwork, much like the rest of the man, but the arm received the thing which was not quite a bird with ease. It shrieked in a tone Chris could not decipher as pleased or irritated at his presence. Mordecai clucked at the beast and it lowered its head until their foreheads were touching. The feathers ringing its face were a light gray, lined with black outside of that, making for a striking contrast with its pool-of-blood eyes. The bird clucked in return and then spread wide wings that, while partially feathered, were also leathery webbing, like those of a bat. It took off and alighted atop one of the skag corpses, beginning to feast as the two men watched.

“Talon,” said the hunter finally, crossing his skinny arms over his narrow chest and turning toward Chris. “These’re the borderlands, man…every little bit helps.”

Chris nodded. “I can see that.”

What a desolate waste this was. The industrialization had not done much to improve the view, Chris sensed. As if reading his mind, Mordecai gestured to the piping.

“New lawn decorations, gifts of the Hyperion corporation,” he said, the acid in his voice making Mordecai’s disdain for this company readily apparent. “Y’know,” he added after a moment, “They shot the components and workforce down from Helios to build these ugly-ass things…”

“Helios?”

“Big H-shaped space station,” responded Mordecai, gesturing toward the massive moon, hanging over the planet almost casually in the midday sun. “Used to float between us an’ Elpis, Pandora’s moon.”

Chris’s green eyes bugged. Space travel, when spoken of so casually, seemed wildly out of place in this land which seemed as if it could only support inbred hillbillies and skags. The fact that it did both of those things, in addition to house items such as digistruct rent-a-car kiosks and the ability to travel between planets (and now dimensions) was never going to cease amazing him. He resisted the urge to explore and focused himself upon the details of their return.

“So, how do we get back?”

Mordecai shook his head. “I dunno—I’m hopin’ your boss has a better idea than we do. I gave him all the information I had, swear on the—on… well I did, anyway.”

Chris nodded. He believed the hunter. He didn’t see any reason for the man to lie, in either case. Wesker was paying him plenty to assist Chris in his mission. For some reason for which none of the three could account, Pandora used the same currency as Chris and Wesker’s home dimension. Mordecai himself had never heard of Earth, claiming to be from a planet called Artemis, but the money was good, so he had eagerly accepted the job. He was an opportunist, Chris had gathered, some sort of mercenary, which would have been obvious from his garb, even without speaking to the man. When Mordecai had named himself a Vault Hunter, however, Chris had lost the track entirely.

He inquired after the Vault, or Vaults, as they walked. Mordecai followed the train of his own thoughts as easily as they followed those massive, purple-leaking pipes. The ground was poisoned with it. Chris could almost smell the decay, but it wasn’t a regular sort of organic rot; it was strange and stuck in his nose, prickling at it. This stuff, Mordecai told Chris, was the raw form of Eridium, the fancy rocks Wesker sought; much like the byproduct of its refinement, or Slag, this unrefined sludge had a potent effect and the hunter suggested they avoid contact with it.

“I’d use a fast-travel station, but I don’t think you want your DNA mixed up in all this,” Mordecai said at one point. Chris recalled the hunter’s tales of the New-U stations and how they worked, assuming fast travel stations were similar, or part of that same network. “Besides,” Mordecai added, “there’s a refinery near here anyway. After we cracked the Vault and made calamari from the thing that popped out, the planet sorta exploded with the stuff.”

Chris was following but not following. It was not that he was slow, or that Mordecai was expounding too much. It was simply that the set of information that the hunter had to go on, as far as life experience went, was entirely outside the circle of Chris’s knowledge and experience. It was so vastly different, but just similar enough to pique his irritation—at himself, of course—for not being able to grasp it all at once. He desperately wanted to. There was something familiar about Mordecai, as if they’d met before. Perhaps it was his mannerisms, or the way he moved. Chris couldn’t place it, but despite the man’s somewhat shady occupation, he wanted to befriend him. It was an odd urge, and one Chris had not felt in a very long time. It made his heart squeeze a little.

“Exploded?” Chris was full of questions today, but was also oddly unbothered by it. He wanted to know more about this place. Wesker did, too. That was part of his mission here, to learn as much as he could about Pandora, its inhabitants, the native flora and fauna, and bring that back to him. Strangely enough, Wesker had not shared his motives in asking this of Chris, but Chris was not stupid. He knew how Wesker’s mind worked and while he figured it would not be for a terribly nefarious purpose, he could have almost guaranteed it had something to do with the viruses they were constantly creating, testing, and modifying.

“Yeah, man, you can see it from space, I guess… haven’t been up there to see it myself, but when Lilith an’—when Lilith visited Elpis, she said she could see the crack in the planet’s surface, all glowin’ an’ shit…”

Lilith and whom? Chris wondered peripherally. He didn’t ask, assuming the stoppage had been because whomever the other person may have been, they were no longer. It clearly pained Mordecai, much as his goggles and stony poker face attempted to hide the fact. The set of his narrow shoulders had changed and he seemed to collapse in on himself a little when not-mentioning that other person.

“Must be a helluva view,” said Chris as they neared a strange post, or pillar. It was clearly manufactured and the name upon the device was Hyperion, though Chris noted that the name had been besmirched with what he prayed was red paint. Mordecai accessed the terminal and suddenly, out of nowhere, a vehicle materialized—no, the word was digistruct; Chris recalled this from one of Mordecai’s stories.

The hunter climbed into the driver’s seat and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate a rotating turret atop the vehicle. “Hop in.”

The ride was surprisingly smooth, given the gradation and unevenness of the terrain. Mordecai was not an awful driver, but more than one beast fell prey to the vehicle, crushed under and sometimes caught up in the wheels. They moved, Chris noticed, on separate shocks, which probably accounted for the smoothness. This engineering made operating the rocket-launcher much easier, something he never thought he’d say again in his lifetime. But Chris Redfield and rocket munitions were close friends. It seemed destiny, at this point.

Soon enough, they were on an uphill approach to a massive facility. The pipeline that had disfigured Fyrestone fed into it, along with many, many others from all different directions. The place appeared abandoned, but Mordecai warned of potential bandit squatters, or rakk infestations. Chris did not know what a rakk was, but got an idea that they came in swarms when Mordecai handed him a shotgun with a fairly wide spread and told him to keep his eyes on the sky. They left the vehicle behind at the entrance and headed in, the hunter in the lead, a revolver perched comfortably in one hand. The mess in here was similar to that outside, with shattered glass, and what looked like various picture frames pulled from walls and utterly splintered.

“It’s quiet,” Chris commented. Mordecai nodded.

“Didn’t used’a be,” said the hunter. Bloodstains marked the walls where unfortunate humans met their end, oil had soaked into the earth where robots—Loaders was the Hyperion designation—had been disassembled. It was quiet carnage, with not a body to show for the effort. Burn marks, gouges, and rubble lay strewn about, but there were no bodies. Chris shuddered, wondering if any of them were walking around. He did not see Mordecai shuddering similarly, for the same reason.

“I see,” Chris confirmed, nodding even though Mordecai was not looking at him. This must have been one of the sites of the battles Mordecai had described, the all-out war between the violent-yet-free people of Pandora and the Hyperion corporation, specifically Handsome Jack. That guy sounded like a megalomaniac in the worst style and Mordecai’s grudge with him was understandably personal. Losing two friends to the machinations of a charismatic madman was not a phenomenon with which Chris was unfamiliar. Except I reconciled with mine, he thought. Sounds like this madness wasn’t curable.

They reached the doors without incident. These were large, thick, and metallic, bearing the same color scheme as most of the rest of the building, garish yellow with black, white, and red splashed someplace upon it. The word Hyperion was stamped in white paint across the doors, but split due to their yawn and Chris thought it was a fitting metaphor.

“What happened to the station you mentioned?” Chris gestured up, indicating Elpis and the lack of a giant H in front of it. Mordecai made a whistling sound, like bombs in old cartoons and followed it up with his best impression of a massive explosion. Chris couldn’t help smiling at this as they passed the threshold. The emergency lights were on, but the place was eerie. It gave Chris the creeps and Mordecai wasn’t feeling exactly comfortable himself. He kept his revolver at the ready, sharp, goggled eyes scanning everything.

“Shipping an’ receiving’s further in,” Mordecai told him, “but I’m betting we find smaller chunk of the stuff in the R&D labs, below.”

R&D labs was not a phrase Chris liked much. It reminded him too much of how Leon had described the Hive. He was accustomed to Wesker’s new, spacious labs inside the mountains. Sure, they were covered in tons of rock, but there wasn’t a living, breathing city full of innocent people atop it as well. If something leaked, the safety protocols and disposal teams were trained to handle it. Without a million, human carriers, it would be much easier to contain. Sometimes, it still made Chris nervous, but he trusted Albert Wesker. He trusted the man had no more ill intentions of assuming a deity’s throne than he himself had.

“I hate this shit,” Mordecai growled, punching the button for a lift to take them down into the bowels of the facility. “You know Jack used the Slag to experiment on people?”

The way he said it suggested the hunter had personal experience with one such situation, maybe more. He did not mention his bird, Bloodwing, and the specificity suggested that some folks he’d known had fallen victim to Handsome Jack’s machinations. As the doors slid open, a portrait grinned out at them from the back of it.

“That him?” He gestured to the handsome man in the portrait, clearly a painting, but very photorealistic. He had a square jaw, mischievous brows, a troublemaker’s hairstyle, swooped and unruly, but somehow utterly under control. More than that, however, Chris marked the two colors of the man’s eyes, blue and green. That was a rare combination, indeed, and added an air of charisma and mystique to him. Chris felt his heart beating a little faster and sort of hated himself for it. This was a portrait and if it was, indeed, Handsome Jack, it was the portrait of a mass-murdering, cold-blooded, narcissistic maniac. All the same, he was handsome.

“Yeah,” hissed Mordecai. His free hand shot out, snagged the bottom of the portrait, and whipped it out the doors of the lift, into the hall with a frisbee motion. Before it hit the ground, he’d emptied six chambers into it. Chris saw with rapt fascination that not a single shot missed. The shattered portrait danced on its way down and this seemed to satisfy the hunter.

“Remind me not to get into a dual with you,” said Chris, doing his best to lighten the situation. Mordecai punched the “sub-basement” button and nodded, grunting his agreement.

“When I was seventeen,” he began, “I won an intergalactic sniping competition, the biggest one out there.” He didn’t bother naming it. Chris wouldn’t know and it damn well didn’t matter anymore. “I used a Tediore revolver.”

He spun the firearm in his hand and holstered it—which in this world mean allowing his hip-mounted storage deck to de-digistruct it as he released his grip upon the weapon. That he kept the same firearm from his younger years did not surprise Chris. Mordecai seemed like the romantic type, the sentimental, wrapping himself—literally and figuratively—in calloused uncaring and a sharp sense of humor to protect the soft warmth within. Chris answered the story with a low whistle.

“What was the prize?” The elevator began its descent.

“A kick in the cajones,” Mordecai responded. He did not look at Chris, instead focusing on the door and their slow progress downward. There was no need to relive that. Chris watched the hunter, observing his posture and the way he withdrew into himself. He was beginning to get the feeling that this tournament had been what might have started Mordecai down the path of the treasure hunter. If it wasn’t the single factor, it was a heavy contributor.

“I took the money an’ split, but they didn’t wanna give it to me,” the hunter continued, sensing Chris’s mouth opening to press. It was an easy story to tell if he left out the details. “Plen’ny of guys thought I was cheating, accused me of unsportsmanlike conduct. Man you ain’t seen a sportsman like me… Anyway I was a dumbshit kid an’ it ruffled my feathers. I never looked back.”

Chris could understand that. He was not a cool cucumber at seventeen. And now, he felt as if he owed the hunter a story in return.

“I ah… joined the military right out of high school. Airforce.” When Mordecai gave him a funny look, Chris was forced to recall that in this reality, or sector of space, or whatever it was, corporations openly controlled whole planets and it was they who had the standing militaries. “Ah, where I’m from, the government has a standing military to protect its interests and citizens.”

“Sounds plenty like Atlas an’ the Lance,” Mordecai decided. Chris nodded.

“In a lot of ways it is; they just pretend they aren’t… The guys in charge, anyway. People down below, they don’t know any better. People join the military to escape, ‘cause they don’t have any other prospects…. Because they’re desperate.”

Mordecai remembered Roland, what he’d said of Promethea, his home planet, and why he had joined the Crimson Lance. The word “desperation” had been part of Roland’s explanation too, and like Chris, it was simply that. It was no justification, no excuse. It was simply his story, the reason he had done it.

“You didn’t join ‘cause you thought it was a solid career path, I take it,” surmised Mordecai, his eyes still on the counter next to the elevator door. They were almost to the bottom, but he was curious. He wanted to know more, all of a sudden. Chris shook his head, grinning.

“And I had a problem with authority.” He recalled the orders he had refused, on the grounds of his own moral code, of course, but refusal was refusal. Mordecai guessed the military did not take kindly to disobedient cogs. Chris confirmed this by continuing. “They ah, discharged me…. But y’know, I still had all the skills, and I honestly don’t think I lost much. Wesker picked me up shortly after that, for a group called STARS… kind of an auxiliary law enforcement, for tough situations.”

Mordecai could understand that well enough. He was about to ask for more when the elevator made a pleasant dinging noise and a female voice welcomed them cordially to the sub-basement and listed off a series of sectors they could visit. Each was more horrifying than the last and Mordecai stepped out of the elevator so as not to absorb too much of it.

“I thought it was creepy upstairs,” Chris whispered, unsure why he was doing so. This space just seemed to beg for quietude, as if disturbing it would bring some kind of dark wrath down upon them. The auxiliary lights down here were not in good shape, flickering now and again to add to the drama. Mordecai signaled that quiet was the right idea. They didn’t know what was down here, except that it was making their hackles stand up. “So, how did you end up coming through to our… y’know, side?”

Mordecai shrugged. “Brick an’ I were checkin’ out the damage… near the Eridium scar, where the original vault was. We got separated an’ I found the site. The place was hummin’, man, a lot like it did when—y’know, when we opened it the first time.”

“I wonder if that’ll be our way back,” Chris mused. “Weird that it didn’t drop us there, though.”

The hunter nodded, conceding that point. He didn’t understand interdimensional travel, but guessed that if the portal on the other side had not been calibrated with that energy signature in mind—and how could it be, given that Wesker didn’t know it—they could have landed any old place. Thank god it was Fyrestone. “No complainin’,” he said after a moment, “since it coulda dropped us into some nasty shit.”

Chris agreed, of course, but was still intrigued as they made their way deeper into the facility.

They wandered for what seemed like hours, but according to Chris’s watch, which worked but made little difference with the planet’s 90+ hour cycles of day and night, it had been ten minutes. Down the hall—the dark hall, as the auxiliary lights had given out in this section—there was a dull, purple glow issuing from a door which had been left ajar. “There,” Mordecai said, pointing. “Grab whatcha need an’ let’s go.”

“You’re not coming?” Baffled, Chris turned his attention away from the violet glow, which he realized was also creating some kind of low, sub-aural hum. Mordecai shook his head.

“Ain’t gettin’ near that shit.”

“Why not? You said it wasn’t unsafe…”

“It’s safe,” Mordecai shot back, “jus’… not… for me.”

Now, Chris was suspicious. Why did it suddenly feel like something, some vital detail, had been kept from him. Wesker would not have sent him if he thought it was radioactive in such a way that would actually harm Chris. He had all the facts, didn’t he? Mordecai had told him everything… hadn’t he? Chris snagged the slender hunter by the top of his scarf-like collar—or maybe it was a scarf; the man was so wrapped up, it was hard to tell—and pinned him against the wall.

“Th’ fuck does that mean?” Chris’s face was inches from Mordecai’s. It infuriated him that he could not see the merc’s eyes, could not tell what he was thinking.

“It means I can’t touch that shit, okay? I can’t get near it—not in those quantities. It ain’t unsafe. You’ll be fine.”

“And you won’t?” Chris did not release Mordecai, green eyes narrow and staring up—he wasn’t used to looking up at anyone—into the hunter’s goggles. Mordecai started to shake his head and then stopped. He swallowed hard and sighed.

“I’ll live,” he relinquished. “Look, you keep this shit to yourself, man. I’m only sayin’ this ‘cause I know I won’t ever see your ass again.”

“Fine.” Chris released his hold and Mordecai reached up to adjust his collar. “Talk.”

Once more, the hunter sighed. Chris could not see in the dimness, but the man’s leathery cheeks had gone a deep red. His heart was pounding. This, too, Chris could not hear, but Mordecai was sure the entire facility could detect it. The blood pounded in his ears as he began unraveling the cloth bandages that covered his left arm. He pulled up one edge and realized, with heart-stopping horror, that even this close to what was almost certainly a massive pile of Eridium, his markings had begun to respond.

“It’s easier if I show you first,” said Mordecai, voice low. He continued to unravel and a fantastic array of dully illuminated patterns revealed themselves, all the way up his arm. The bandages went right to his shoulder. He tugged off the rest of the wrappings and held the entire pile in one hand. “Remember the Sirens I told you an’ the boss man about?”

“Wesker,” Chris filled in, “and yeah. Six of ‘em in the universe at a time.”

“And…?”

“Six and…” Chris paused, racking his brains for the strange information which did not want to stay put, because it was so foreign. “All female.”

“Yeah.”

The silence between them was palpable. Mordecai breathed deeply, stowed the bandages, and brushed past Chris, hoping that would be enough. If the guy wanted to see him walk in there so bad, he’d do it. Obviously, Mordecai knew that this was not the point of the argument, but he was feeling petty. He’d seen Lilith use the stuff to supercharge her power; maybe he could do the same, but he didn’t want to.

“Mordecai!” Chris jogged after the man. “I get it, you don’t have to go on… I—”

“No, man, you don’t. You don’t get it. All my life, I’ve been this way. Y’know other people can… y’know, be what they’re s’poseda be, but I got this shit.” He thrust his arm out, which was now glowing much more brightly. “This shit that will always remind me that I’m not… that I can’t.”

Mordecai stalked into the room. There was a sizable pile of the ingots on a table, in addition to smaller pieces littering the place and all over other desks and various examination stations. The quantity of it explained the magnitude of its glow in the hallway. Chris stopped cold at the threshold, amazed by the stuff. He’d never seen anything like it. Mordecai stood in the middle of the room, his tattoos glowing violently. He turned toward Chris then, tugging his goggles down so they dangled about his neck like some grisly hangman’s noose. The hunter’s eyes were glowing a vicious violet and in the light, Chris swore he saw tears.

“See what it does to me—to us… Sirens? It… Feels so good. It’s like I need more, like I’m addicted… But I’ve been down that road. I don’t want more. I wanna be… I just wanna… I’m a Vault Hunter.”

He hated the quavering of his own voice and the weakness in his heart. The room was becoming faceted like diamonds, and blurring. The view was spectacular and he began to feel a strange, forceful euphoria. This was what Lilith had described when she’d told them how it felt to absorb the power of refined Eridium. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, irritated by its presence.

“Just because you’re a Siren… doesn’t make you less of a Vault Hunter,” Chris observed, “or a man.”

“But—”

“No, I really think there’s no but,” Chris shot back, approaching the hunter with measured, but bold steps. “There’s just you and five other people in the universe who can do… whatever it is you all do. That they’re all women is kind of up for debate too, if you think about it.”

Mordecai had not considered it that way. Never in all his life had he been able to divorce his Siren status from his sex. It simply did or could not separate. Or perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps it was within himself to do this and it had taken Chris’s sharp reminder to bring that to him. He was still a Vault Hunter, still the best marksman in the galaxy and probably beyond, but he was also a Siren. Lilith herself had brought up the advantages of it. In fact, she’d named his ability, once he’d consented to show her: Phasestep. She said it sounded cooler when you put the word phase in front of it. He’d laughed at that, and he was laughing now… a little at first, and then the laughter bubbled up to something cathartic and almost wild.

“Shit,” he gasped, “would ya lookit that…”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, grabbing a piece of the Eridium and stowing it in one of his packs. “So let’s get out of here and then you can show me what your power can do.”

Mordecai nodded. He was not ready to overclock himself with Eridium, but he was, he supposed, ready to show Chris how Phasestep worked. “I can do you one better,” said the hunter, focusing his energy. He lifted his hand and with it, a tear seemed to form in the center of the room, rounding itself out to a hole about seven feet tall and four wide. On the other side, the familiar vista of Fyrestone shimmered and shifted. “I’ve never gone this far before,” he admitted, “so it must be the Eridium.”

Chris gave a low whistle. “Is it safe for both of us?”

“Sure,” said Mordecai, not without humor. “Man, hell if I know. I’ve only used it a couple of times… which I guess is pretty stupid, given what I do for a living.”

He stepped toward the image, but it wavered unsteadily, crackled and flashed once, before switching to another familiar scene.

“Is that… the lab?” Chris’s brows knitted together. On the other side of this tear in space-time, he could see the wavery form of Albert Wesker, standing near a console, punching numbers. He straightened suddenly, as if he’d felt eyes upon him, and turned. The surprise on his face was blurry, but Chris could see it, and it pleased him. “It is!”

“Go on,” said Mordcai, “I’ll follow.”

Chris was not sure he would—in fact, he was positive he would not see Mordecai again, but he had his sample and was more than pleased to see his lover. Mentally, he wished Mordecai luck and stepped through.

written for @tyrant-chris-redfield whomst I cannot tag because life is awful but I love them v much, bish u know who u r

#awwjeezbrick #ficlet #my writing #writing #i have no idea what my tagging system is #re crossover?#idk here u go

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