#i'm still bitter i lost progress
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cxnsolatio · 8 months ago
Text
✚✚✚ @circus-and-shenanigans // continued
Tumblr media
Law followed the little clown throughout the sinuous insides of the big top, through the narrow alleys between seats, one heeled foot fitting at a time. He held Kikoku higher against his shoulder, almost as if a parent would carry a toddler in a crowded space for fear of losing them. It was the dirt floor he minded, to spare his sword the dishonour of meeting with some gluttonous child's half-licked, sticky-as-glue lolly. Law grimaced at the vision of paper wraps and unpopped kernels of corn sprawled under his feet. How had he allowed himself to get caught up in this mess, again?
Oh, yes. The funny (as in 'peculiar' rather than 'amusing') clown girl had lassoed him in with the promise not of entertainment, but of medicine.
She had said she was a doctor, a claim that earned her a studious gaze bundled up in doubt. This orange thing was a doctor? For all his brilliance, Law did lack the necessary amount of self-awareness to recognise that most civilians, too, would doubt him a doctor when he sported a loose shirt buttoned up with haste over his jeans and black polish over his fingernails so casually. Both he and the clown were as far removed from the semblance of a textbook doctor, with their one white coat and two rows of white teeth arranged into a reassuring smile as could be. All things considered, it was discerning of a circus to harbour a medical team, only not right next to the menagerie, he hoped, for a nomadic, strenuous lifestyle offered plenty of opportunities for injury. And the jolly roger lulling in the wind above the tarpaulin had not escaped Law's atttentive watch. Pirates required medical assistance more than the average person.
❝ Listen, Raggedy Ann...! ❞ he started, an edge of warning to his voice, her jab at his aquatic lifestyle returned in kind as he manoeuvred the space towards the reserved compound of doors and platforms the audience had no idea lay within and underneath the circus. ❝ I'll have you know submarines are lots of fun. ❞
What the hell did she know of his literary soirées? Of the crew's monthly talent shows? Of the most exciting, free-for-all race to the loo after every Tuesday's taco dinner? Why, she was but a simpleton, all too excited to watch some other idiot in oversized shoes juggle up some balls and deem it as entertainment. If there was a literal embodiment of the panem et circenses phrase, here it was.
❝ I am not a man to be toyed with. I did not come here, to the very depths of Satan's rectum, to discuss the concept of merriment over tea with a child. Where is the chlorophyte? ❞
She had said, and not just in passing, to be in possession of a rare species of algae Law had read about in his studies. Although, admittedly, phycology was a field of pharmaceutical interest he generally buried under other priorities. The species was said to be at least a hundred times more efficient than other maritime eukaryotes in boosting immunity and serving as an anticancerous agent, nothing short of a miracle if proven true. If he could get this alga into his laboratory and multiply it so he got enough specimens to sample from... Only the hypothesis of an unprecedented scientific breakthrough could have made him enter the circus tent.
Trafalgar Law hissed, catlike when the faux flower hit him with a surprise drizzle. Though hygienic, he would rather take his shower the conventional way. Just like he would like to keep his feet not stepped on by stupid miniature velocipedes! ❝ I really, really hate the circus! I'll take my clowns in the form of Ruggero Leoncavallo, thank you.❞
His eyes were daggers directed at this Doctor Patches character, but then the gold in them melted and glinted with mischief. Kikoku made another move on his shoulder, ready to lose her sheath. ❝ There is no fucking chance a clown can trick me. ❞
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
autumnheartsprice · 20 days ago
Text
The Hidden
Alpha!Price x Omega!Reader
|gn!reader, no smut, abo dynamics, little but not really angsty, crying, fluff|
Tumblr media
An Omega who was a part of the military was rare, nearly non-existent honestly. Weren't even reliable enough to be an assistant on base.
That's why you hid it. After years of mistreatment and abuse of power from your higher-ups, you retired that lifestyle. With a few scent blockers and pheromone perfume to make your scent more like a beta's, you progressed your way to a Sergeant. It wasn't the easiest to have to hide it in front of a team full of Alpha's and a Beta, but that's the only way you'll be able to continue working with them.
That's why, when you were assigned to help your Captain set up a safehouse in the middle of a forest and hours away from base or even any publicity, you didn't bat an eye.
Tumblr media
It's day two of setting up the safehouse. After just arriving yesterday, only the smallest things were completed as the hours spent hiking up the mountain to this spot used up all energy from the both of you. You dug through the items that still needed to be sorted and put away, trying to make piles of similar items. Price was outside chopping some wood for the cabin's fireplace, the cool breeze outside only to get worse by nighttime.
Once most of the items found a home somewhere in the small cabin, you started putting together a small dinner of chilli for the both of you to share. Price abruptly opened the door, carrying an armful of logs as he quickly shut the door behind him, the coolness of the air already entering inside, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine.
Price sets the chopped wood by the door, rubbing his hands together before toeing off his boots. "Sorry love, 'tried not to let the cold air in." he muttered as he started taking his jacket off. He noticed your nod, the only form of response from you. He sets his jacket over a chair before walking to the kitchen, eyeing the pot of chilli you were making, before leaning against the counter to where he could see your face. "Ye alright? Haven't said much since we got here." he says, taking notice of your pink cheeks. "Look a bit feverish there, love." He adds, walking over to feel your cheeks with the back of his hand, only to feel your soft skin burning up.
He notices how you tense up and move away from his touch as he feels your cheeks. "I'm fine, sir. Must just be the weather gettin' to me." you explain. You turn the stove off and move the pot to a different burner before grabbing two ceramic bowls for the each of you. His brows furrow in suspicion but decides to let go of it. "Alright, if you say so, Sergeant. I want you to rest up after supper though, you hear me?" He states, leaving no room for rebuttal like you usually would, but you only hum in response.
He watches you only eat a few bites of chilli, only forking at your food before eventually getting up and excusing yourself to the bedroom. He watched you walk away as he finished up his own food, before cleaning up dinner and saving leftovers for it you got hungry later.
It was his night to sleep on the couch since he got the bed last night, although he forgot his charger. Making his way up from the couch with a grunt, he walks to the bedroom, stopping himself from knocking as he thought he heard something. Small whines and whimpers came from the other side of the door, too lost in your own pain to hear his footsteps walk up to the door. His Alpha heart aches at the whimpers, sensing the Beta in distress; he slowly twists the doorknob and lets himself in. The room was pitch black, only the small bedside lamp illuminates a quarter of the room. Your back was facing the door, not sensing him letting himself in.
He makes his way into the room, silently shutting the door behind himself as he walks around the bed and to you. He starts to strongly pick up a sweet scent from you, way too sweet than your usual self, but a bit bitter. He makes his way in front of you, seeing your head put into the palm of your hands. He reaches his hand out to slowly pet your head, only for you to quickly snap your head up at the sudden touch and bare your sharp canines, a low growl coming from deep in your throat before you even realize you were doing it to your Captain, of all people. He moves his hand to scruff the back of your neck and calm you, which works as it usually does with you, but your sweet scent starts to turn more bitter and sour. He finally gets a better look at you, seeing your cheeks flushed with sweat dripping down your forehead, your hair sticking to your face, and pupils wide.
"Jesus Christ, the fuck goin' on with you?" He mutters, expecting a damn good reason for why you look like you just crawled out from the pits of hell itself. He gently puts your hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. You shake your head, acting like you don't know, which very clearly doesn't meet his expectations. "You tell me what the fuck is happening right now. That is not a question, that is an order, Sergeant." He husks out, gripping your jaw and pulling your face up to look at him.
Your eyes start to brim with tears, your chest tightening and getting harder to breathe; he only tightens his grip on your jaw, expecting an answer. "P-Please.. I.. I need you, Alpha.. please, just do something.." You whisper, voice shaking with anxiety as you pull the collar of your sweater down, exposing your inflamed and very red scent gland.
Price lets go of your jaw and steps back, taking in the sight before him. Only Omegas get inflamed scent glands like that... Only Omegas..
He has to force himself to take a deep breath to remain calm, he can't scare you in a state like this. For fucks sake, it'll take hours to even get help to you.
"You.. You're an Omega..?" he slowly asks, taking a step closer to you. He watches as a tear rolls down your cheek as you hesitantly nod. "I-I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry.." You quickly mumble, hands coming up to cover your face in embarrassment. "Hey.. sh, shh.. it's alright, love.." He whispers, slowly taking your hands in his and pulling them away from your face. "Let me see, okay? Can't help ye if I can't see what I'm working with, lovie, I'll be nice and easy." He soothes you. Gently rubbing the back of one of your hands with his thumb as he uses his other hand to lower your shirt collar again to reveal your scent gland. You unconsciously tilt your head to the side so he can get a better look. He softly runs his thumb over your inflamed gland, causing a pained whimper to leave your mouth and making him pull away.
"Alright, lovie, it's okay, I'm not gonna touch it no more.. Let's take this off of ye, okay?" He explains, carefully taking the fabric of your shirt into his hands, he looks up at you for your consent and with your nod, he gently pulls it up over your head. He brushes your hair behind your shoulder as he thinks.
"Love, I know you haven't been fully honest before, but right now, I need you to tell me the exact truth so that I can help you." He says, a firm tone in the Alpha's voice which makes you whine. "Are you in heat right now or is this from abusing scent blockers?" He asks. He watches as more tears roll down your cheeks, he's sure it's from the stern voice during a vulnerable moment like this or even from just plain embarrassment or pain, but he doesn't have time to worry about emotions than your physical health. He sees you stick up 2 fingers to silently tell him it's the second option and he nods.
Tumblr media
He's sat on the bed with you in his lap, your back against his chest, and the two of you both shirtless. He rubs some soothing lotion on your scent gland, having to hold you down as you try to get out of his grasp as you whine in pain. He whispers soft reassuring words as he tries to get you to lay back against him. "C'mon, sweet girl.. it'll be better once I can get this on ye." Which somehow gets you to rest your back against his chest again, earning an "Atta girl." as he starts to continue treating the inflammation.
He gets you to rest for a little bit, almost falling asleep before you start to whimper in agony, trying to claw off your scent glands, before he quickly realizes what you're trying to do and pries your hand away from your neck. He sighs, not knowing what to do anymore to help you besides give it time. He wraps his arms around your chest to pull you back against him, and he starts to pick up that bitter, almost rotting, smell again. "Sweetheart.. ye gonna let yer Alpha scent ye? Hmm? Help make the pain go away?" He murmurs into your ear. He gives you time to think, before he sees you nod and he knows that's the only response you'll give him until you feel better.
He readjusts you on his lap, turning you around so that you're facing him, telling you what to do if you ever want him to stop. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. He nudges his face, telling you to tilt your neck more, which you do. He rubs his scent gland against yours, starting to scent you. He feels your head fall back in relief; He puts a hand behind the back of your head to give you support while continuing to scent you. His gruff beard rubs against your soft neck, reminding him to shave in the morning. He feels his heart ache listening to you whimper and cry on his lap, but he knows it's because it's making you feel better.
Tumblr media
You soon fall asleep in his lap, finally feeling comfortable enough. He takes advantage of this and lays down, letting you lay on top of him. He pulls a blanket over the two of you but doesn't turn the lamp off, not wanting to not be able to fully watch you in case of anything.. Or because his Alpha instincts are taking over and want to protect his Omega.
PT. 2?
178 notes · View notes
threepandas · 4 months ago
Text
Bad End: We Are
Tumblr media
Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.
The Underground GROWS.
What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.
Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!
It's some BULLSHIT.
But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.
....I make people nervous, honestly.
Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards. Maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!
Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.
Fuck Rent.
Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!
Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!
Free Real Estate~☆
I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~
And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.
Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.
Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.
They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.
First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.
The floor I step out into is... bad.
Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.
I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.
I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.
This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.
Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.
I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.
The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.
But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.
ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.
Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.
So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.
Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.
Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.
See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™
The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.
I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!
No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!
That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.
I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.
Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.
Unsurprising, really.
Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.
A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.
Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.
I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.
Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.
Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.
I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.
If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.
The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.
We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.
Thank FUCK it's not us.
I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.
This Is Fine.
I am TOTALLY CALM.
But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.
It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.
I kinda want to cry about it, you know?
So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?
I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.
Going to sleep? I'm happy.
Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.
Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.
I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.
Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.
Oh god damn it.
I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!
No, it was Romance™
My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.
I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.
With such incredible audacity, I was bold.
Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?
I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!
The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.
Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.
Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.
Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.
I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.
Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.
Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.
Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.
I am correct.
It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.
The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.
I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.
It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.
Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.
Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.
Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.
The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.
Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...
I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.
THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.
Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!
The perpetrators long dead.
I have no one I can hurt for this.
I wish I could.
Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.
So they can start over. Maybe start again.
As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.
JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.
Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?
I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.
Things were... weird, but peaceful.
Well, for ME.
Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.
Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!
I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Damn near self sufficient, down here.
Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.
Hello!!??!
"You look different when you sleep."
Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?
"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."
Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.
First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.
I have to deep dive the systems for his model.
They stopped making them.
Fantastic.
Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!
Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.
The trip is...odd.
I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.
Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.
People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!
The library... has fortifications.
Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?
Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!
My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!
Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.
I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.
My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?
I mean.... kinda.
Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?
He does! Fantastic.
Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.
Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.
I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!
Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?
I go while the getting is still good.
Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.
Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.
Ship of Theseus this bitch.
Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.
It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.
Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.
"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."
Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.
I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.
Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.
Crushing it.
It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.
"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."
Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!
A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.
I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.
"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."
"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."
High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.
I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.
"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."
"Forever."
143 notes · View notes
cripplecharacters · 2 months ago
Note
Hello! I'm working on a story that is, fundamentally, a revenge story. A young woman loses her beloved older sister in a car accident, and becomes obsessed with hunting down everyone she perceives as responsible for or complicit in her sister's death.
This girl was also in the car when the accident happened, and while she survived, she did lose her leg (below the knee).
My question is, is it okay to have a disabled character seeking revenge for the event that disabled them if the disability isn't the driving force behind that revenge? My protagonist did lose her leg in that accident, but the thing she's bitter and vengeful about is the death of her sister, and she makes that very clear throughout the story. Is that enough to detach her from the trope of "character wants vengeance for becoming disabled," or is it still too close for comfort?
Also, I'm planning to make this girl fat; we need more badass fat characters in the world. Will that affect her experience with having a prosthetic? Especially considering it's a leg, so it'll be bearing her weight. Very few of the medical resources out there account for fat people, unfortunately.
Hey!
Standard disclaimer that we don't have amputee mods, please keep this in mind.
I think that this is a cool alternative to the usual "revenge for making someone disabled" plot line. Her being incredibly emotional because she lost a loved one is a natural reaction, and the desire for revenge is well, natural for the genre. It's just nice to see a disabled character being involved without disability being the main factor. In my view it's realistic too, I feel like most people would care about the death of a beloved sibling more than a new disability (not to imply that they wouldn't at all, of course). Disability is better than death, even if it makes life harder. I believe the concept for the story is fine.
For the second part of the ask, I 100% agree that we need more badass fat characters, especially women. These are some factors that could affect her as an amputee, and they are things that fat amputees deal with more often - but obviously no group is a monolith, so I doubt every single one will apply to her specifically. Skinny amputees can deal with these issues as well. Not an exhaustive list of course.
Prosthetic weight limit. These are different for different models, but they do exist. The most ranges I've seen go up to 136kg, so the process of getting one might be more costly and/or time-consuming if she's above it. The higher the weight the higher the risk of needing custom-made parts. That's expensive.
Actually being able to put it on. If she can't reach the end of her residual limb, she might either need another person's help or get an assistive device to help her both take care of the stump and put her prosthesis on.
Prosthetic fit. This one can already be difficult if the person is skinny, but it's a more time-consuming experience for people with more fat and skin on their residual limb. This is partially due to shrinkage and tissue remodeling, which is a progressive process, and more tissue means that there is more to remodel. She might have to go through a lot of refitting before landing on one that will be appropriate for the long-term. Keep in mind that basically everyone gains weight after becoming an amputee, so this is a process that can go on for a long time just for this reason, not even including the other reasons like the wear and tear.
Sockets. Like most things, they were designed with skinny people in mind, and it kinda shows. A socket gives stability through hugging firm tissue, so the more soft tissue is present in between them, the less stability and control it offers. Mobility aids can help with this - whether that'd be crutches, a rollator/walker, or a cane, depends on her personal preference and needs.
Fatigue levels. Using a prosthetic is really tiring already, but it gets more tiring if you are physically heavier, same for more pain due to the increase in pressure between the skin and the prosthetic. Again, a mobility aid can be helpful - she'd probably own a wheelchair, even if that's not the aid she'd use most often. She could opt to use a wheelchair at home to preserve energy, and walk outside with prosthetic and crutches.
As you can see, a lot of this has to do with increased costs, so you have to take in your character's financial situation in mind. And of course she's not gonna just put on a prosthetic the day after the accident. It's a process that takes a long time, physical therapy, and patience, even if she starts using a preparatory prosthetic early (before getting a permanent one) it still takes time to relearn how to first stand, then walk, then run... It's a process.
I hope this helps,
mod Sasza
54 notes · View notes
alpacaroni-and-cheese · 4 months ago
Text
Leah and Fatin, A Journey of Forgiveness
Spoilers for The Wilds seasons 1 and 2 Trigger warning for brief mention of a canon suicide attempt. Be safe before you read <3
Tumblr media
Throughout the first season of Amazon Prime's series, The Wilds, you could be forgiven for thinking that Leatin (or Latin, for the OGs) was a rarepair. A crackship, if you will.
They had some intensely homoerotic moments (wiping your own blood on your rival's face? I see you, Fatin) and some deeply important and emotional moments (see my previous essay), but for most watchers of the show, they weren't much more than semi-strangers to lowkey friends to bitter enemies to close friends.
But then season 2 came out.
Tumblr media
Forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let's go back to the beginning of the season.
Leah has pulled herself out of a man-made pit designed by the experimenters who are threatened by her. She's so desperately close to unravelling the whole sick and twisted game, she just has to show the others the pit, and then they'll believe her.
When she gets back to the beach, however, there's no time to go looking for the pit, triumphant and vindicated, because Rachel is dying. A large portion of her arm has been bitten off by a shark. She needs a hospital and trained professionals, but the best they have are antibiotics and an understanding that bleeding is bad. The open wound is cauterised and bandaged to within an inch of its life.
Did I mention all of this is happening while epiphany by Taylor Swift plays in the background? Soul destroying stuff.
Anyway, now that Rachel isn't actively dying, Leah can drag Fatin away to find the pit, but it's gone.
Tumblr media
Leah can't believe it. She knows it was real, and she knows Nora put her in there. She knows she didn't imagine it, but the proof is all gone. The truth has once again slipped through her fingers.
Fatin, on the other hand, is only growing more and more concerned for Leah. For some context, Leah's near-drowning experience only happened just a couple of days prior, so from Fatin's perspective, this could easily be a worsening of Leah's mental state. If she's hallucinated this pit, then she's quickly going to become a greater danger to herself and to the others. Fatin now not only has to especially worry about Rachel, but Leah as well.
And Fatin is tired. She's exhausted, and her threads are pulled taut, ready to snap.
The episode jumps ahead a little, just a few days, and we see that Leah is still searching for the pit. She's disappearing for hours at a time, under the pretence of doing something vaguely useful (like gathering wood for the signal fire) but returning with little to no real progress made.
Fatin notices all this, because of course she does.
Tumblr media
She tries to convince Leah it was just a mirage, but Leah doesn't budge. She can't budge, because finding the pit is her only real way of knowing she hasn't completely lost it.
The group is moving camp from outside on the beach to inside the forest, so everybody is gathering up their stuff and moving it in-land. Leah's helping, sort of, but she's still lost in her spiral.
Leah believes that she needs answers, and the person who can best give her those answers is lost to the waves, presumed dead. So she goes for the next best thing, too caught up in her own monsoon of guilt, paranoia and unflinching desire to find the truth to realise that the answers she's trying to find are not as important as protecting Rachel's fragile heart and mind.
Before anyone can step in and stop the inevitable fracturing, she prods, and Rachel implodes.
All of the girls rush forward to Rachel. Some, like Toni, stand guard, facing Leah and warning her not to come closer. Others, like Shelby and Martha gently soothe and comfort Rachel, whose grief and guilt is on full display.
Fatin, however, is furious.
She grabs Leah and drags her to the cliffs, shoving her up against the cliff-face.
Tumblr media
She snarls, teeth bared in anger. Leah causing hurt to herself was bad enough, but the escalation to hurting Rachel was a step too far.
Fatin bites, tearing into the soft, exposed underbelly.
"You take your delusions, and you take your theories, and you fucking bury them, now! And if you ever take them within 100 feet of Rachel again, I'll fucking kill you."
These words will haunt her, but she has a point. Leah was wrong for interrogating Rachel.
Confronted with the fact that she hurt Rachel, and exhausted of the ceaseless noise bouncing around in her head that something is wrong, Leah makes a decision. A bad one.
She overdoses. Later, she'll say she didn't really want to die, she just wanted to stop feeling.
We don't see the immediate fallout, episode 2 picks up a couple of days later. Leah is near-catatonic, lying on a bed of bamboo. Rachel is nearby, in a similar state.
Fatin, Toni and Dot sit together close by, and Fatin is tearing strips off clothing to make new bandages for Rachel.
Tumblr media
Fatin is scared. More scared than she's ever been before in her life. She's filled with guilt, and wishing she didn't have to deal with this reality.
So she pretends that she doesn't care, because that's easier than facing her fear and her guilt. She knows, deep down, that despite her anger being righteous, she went too far.
"What matters is, she's alive, and she's finally fucking quiet."
Rachel, who is sick of being babied, and likely just a bit pissed off at Fatin's insensitivity, resolves to get Leah up and moving herself. To the surprise of all present, it works. Leah breaks out of her catatonia and stumbles after her.
They spend some time together, sharing a real, honest conversation. They've spoken to each other before, obviously, but this is the first time each one is sharing their true selves. No more facades of being a better person than they are, no more ulterior motives. Just Leah and Rachel.
They forgive each other, and themselves, forging an unbreakable bond.
Tumblr media
They bring out in each other the first real joy they've felt in days, maybe even weeks (just look at their faces!).
Fatin sees Leah healing, and shares in her joy. Although, maybe now she's starting to have some revelations...
Tumblr media
2x03 sees Leah and Rachel spending more time together. Their bond deepens, and the two characters who have been the most tense for the entire duration of the show, finally get to be relaxed.
"Well if I had one that counted the number of hours since my last neurotic thought, I would be at like, a hundred."
They gather bamboo to make repairs for the beds at camp, when Leah realises something. They can make instruments out of the bamboo.
Multiple hours of practice later, they arrive back at camp, proudly holding their crudely-but-lovingly-made instruments.
Tumblr media
They play Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. It's a little off-key ("She's flat, but fuck me.") but the heart is there, and soon everyone is singing along.
Martha is dancing, Rachel and Dot are singing their hearts out, and Toni and Shelby are busy making googly eyes at one another.
And Leah?
Well, she makes her way over to Fatin.
Tumblr media
She sings, "Home is whenever I'm with you," while cradling Fatin's face in her hands. Fatin melts, understanding the message, and falling even further in love.
In a tumultuous, traumatic time of their lives, filled with misery, guilt, shame, fear, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and bone-deep exhaustion they'll probably never fully recover from, this one simple gesture says everything.
I heard all you said. I felt your teeth tear my weary flesh. I bled from your wounds, but that's over now. I understand why.
I forgive you.
61 notes · View notes
critterbitter · 1 year ago
Note
Hi there! I wanted to preface this by saying that your submas and Nimbasa trio art are awesome, and I adore the way you draw them and write their interactions ❤️ . Their expressions, the way they move and interact with each other and the world around them, it's great 👍.
There's something I wanted to ask regarding your comics, and I ask this with the utmost respect 🙏, because it's something I've been wondering: where are their parents? It's awesome that they do all this stuff together, but the parents are, like, never brought up. Not even Elesa's after her introduction to the twins. And Ik that in the Pokemon verse, you're free to do whatever at age 10, but I still wanted to ask in your comics, at least, since they're still so young, if there's going to be any mentions of them.
I don't want you to feel pressured to draw designs for their parents or anything like that! It's perfectly understandable if you've never thought of the subject, I just wanted to know if they're still in the picture or if, for drama effect, they're orphans adopted by uncle Drayden in your lore. (Ofc, if you believe in the uncle Drayden theory, that is).
And once again, thank you for all the work you do! You're awesome, and your art is awesome 👌. And I really hope this ask doesn't come off as mean or offensive, I'm just really curious about anything you'd be willing to give about submas parents. Thank you 😊 for everything once again. Your work is greatly appreciated 🙏.
:0!
Going to be honest, I didn’t really think about them parents much— pokemon treats most parent figures as non-entities, so… yeah. Feral teenagers running around.
If you want to hear my rambling though! (Note that this is all work in progress! Things are inclined to change.)
Worldbuilding for this iteration, I like to think it’s cultural that everybody has a pokemon starter/ ace that they grow with, but it depends on individuals to decide how close their lives intertwine. That in mind,
Ingo and emmet have two moms! Their ma’ is drayden’s twin sister— Kaita, haxorous ace, and a dragon specialist. And their mother, Lucielle, a stoutland ace, works as a full time trainer. The ladies are a bit absent from the twin’s life because they have their own business, but like to send Ingo and Emmet stuff from wherever they roam. (They tried their best when the kids were younger. But talking about having kids, and actually raising kids are two different topics in life.)
Drayden serves as an uncle figure for the twins, but he’s a bit bitter he got two patrats dumped on him.
((Does the lack of parent figures and a distant uncle have lasting effects on ingo and emmet? That’s up for your interpretation. Though it would explain latching onto each other and then later litwick and tynamo…))
As for the pachirisu child—
Elesa’s parents are separated. Her dad, Rin, works a full time desk job. He means the best, but he’s never home. He lost his staraptor a while back and is still dealing with the grieving process, and isn’t really equipped to look after a kid on top of all that. Elesa’s mom, Himawari, is still in Sinnoh and works as a ranger. Her ace is a solrock.
(Why are they separated? That’s for you guys to postulate! I am simply throwing ocs at the wall.)
Elesa was moved to unova partially due to her dad’s new job, and partially due to that Entire Nebulous Situation. She adapts fast, but it’s not a fun adaption.
Anyways, the twins and elesa in turn grew up very independent as a result.
And that’s the barebones!
159 notes · View notes
pareidoix · 1 year ago
Text
“Ha?”
Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks, before looking back to you—his traveling companion, having a nasty sneer in his expression.
“And yet,” one, two and three. Three paces to you, each step with a simultaneous shift in his expression, a growing smugness, tainting his lips.
“You're still here, traveling with me, continuing to travel with someone, who, vocally expresses that your existence is lesser, annoying, repulsive even.”
The words come out half bitter, effortlessly mixing a lie and a half truth, yet he'll maintain that expression, not for you—but for himself.
“Quite masochistic of you, don't you think?” He added, adjusting his hat as his eyes narrow to yours, eating up that chesire-like smile of which it becomes the cherry on top of his usual mockery.
Ah. It wasn't a few seconds after his statement, it happened in a haze, two blinks and you were already inches to his face, retaining that nauseating snarl, that repulsion now plastered onto your pretty, pretty facial features.
Wanderer remained tall, unmoving, his chin raised high and poised, and it was nothing but a mask, a facade, one he has perfected over the eons of his lifespan, but how can someone claim perfection, when he was far from the concept itself?
Your lips move, forming to say the nickname you gave for him. “I'm not the one with many names, with many sins, I don't manifest my struggles and turn those who surround me into ruin,” his expression falters, mirroring yours upon mention of his eventful history of bloodshed.
“Say more,” he was supposed to be the one to one-up you, to provoke you. “Go on,” he was the one who wanted to invoke a reaction from you.
But why?
Your back straightens, raising your chin to him, and the corners of your lips widen, widen and widen, it was an evil grin overruling his earlier attempt of smugness, it was attractive, malicious.
Why did he find himself so lost in that malice?
“You can't do anything,” his breath hitches, facial muscles waning control, confused, not knowing if he should act accordingly to your refute with a mirrored demeanor—or give up and let his face contort to something of excitement.
Your statements hold true as well, someone who accused you of lowly masochism, now finding himself in the same path with guilt, with pleasure.
Wasn't he just winning?
“Because you know that your progress of tranquility, will be for naught. Days, months, years worth of practiced peace, will be reduced to void, to nothingness.”
Veins formed, visible along his jaw. “You can't do anything,” you repeat, the winds shifting as you move past him. “Because, you enjoy it Kuni.”
His eyes widen, a disgruntled sound gracing your ears as he looks over his shoulder. “That's—!”
“The truth,” you let out a quiet 'hmhm', looking to the side, preying on his visuals in your peripheral.
“A truth you want to bask in, for it is better than the turmoil that gnaws at you overwhelmingly.”
You walk with grace, and Wanderer stills with unease, motionless with current-like thoughts, a redness now turbulent all over his face, as well as his clenched, trembling fists. He wanted more?
He wanted more. Wanderer wanted more—and that was enough to send him in a deep state of frenzy, along with an intensifying self loathing.
“I destest you,” he mumbles under his breath, bringing a hand to his hat to hide everything of him and his dignity, catching up but with a safe distance towards you, but you heard.
“No, I don't think you do.”
Tumblr media
need him oiled up and begging
164 notes · View notes
wayfayrr · 8 months ago
Note
The Menace is back with a Self-Aware ask and your weekly words. So here we go with the Self-Aware!
So I think about a Self-Aware Wind and Spirit would be a good idea. You ask who Spirits is? Well the Link from Spirit Tracks because I'm sure he is a reincarnation of Wind as there were things that wouldn't make sense if he was the same. Niko is old but Spirit isn't, Zelda and Spirit don't recognise each other, Spirit doesn't have a sister or a grandma only old man Niko and Niko tells him the story of Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass.
I believe that Wind tries to be sneaky like when Reader looks away he turns his head towards them. Reader also catched him a few times but just thought their eyes were playing tricks on them same with Spirit. But I think it would be interesting when both of them break out at the same time.
Like the scenario is like that. Reader plays Phantom Hourglass on their DS and their little/older sibling comes to them as they are stuck somewhere in Spirit Tracks and it was Reader's game after all, they don't know that Spirit planned it. So Reader just say leave it with them and put their DS down to look at the problem. Only to notice that it seems as there isn't one, Link just runs around the overworld. So Reader thinks it's a glitch and runs around with Spirit to find a next town, they are really far away if you don't use the train. So Wind gets jealous and looks for methods to get their attention. How? He runs out of the safety zone from Bellum's temple and has a monster running after his life. So if Reader plays with sound on they immediately switch DSs to save Wind. And these two do that the whole time. Oh, there is the train geek? Sorry Spirit, but Wind just fell down somewhere and Reader has to go the whole way back so they don't lose progress and heal him. Oh, Wind has a puzzle that Reader tries to solve? Sorry Wind, but Spirit just rolled against a tree with a bees/horns nest, Reader has to save him. Oh, Spirit sees and Overworld Boss and it does nothing and Reader wants to take pictures of it T posing?! Sorry Spirit, But Wind needs their help as he lost all of the ore for smith Zauz and now has to collect them again!! Oh, Wind just got a heart container after he defeated a boss?! Well Sorry Wind But Spirits RUNS ON WATER! OH LOOK WIND FELL DOWN FROM THE BOAT AND NEEDS TO BE SAVED!! SORRY SPIRIT, BUT YOUR JESUS JOURNEY HAS TO BE CUT SHORT!! OH READER FINALLY FOUNDS THE TRAIN?! WELL EXCUUUSEE ME SPIRIT BUT WIND RAN INTO FREAKING BELLUM IN THE OVERWORLD!!! OH...
And so on. These two will go into extreme lengths to get Readers attention on one of them. So they will probably break out as Reader didn't fold any of the two DS to help their parents who called them. But at first the two will fight. Obviously they love Wind more they played his games a dozens of time! Nooo, they love Spirit more they could've given him back to their sibling but they didn't he was still there. When Reader returns they just demand to know who Reader's favourite is. Reader completely stunned as both games start talk to them think they go nuts as they pulled an all-nighter before. The two won't stop and slammed against the glass until it breaks and... why are they so small? Why is Reader so tall?! WHY ARE THESE TWO HERO CHIBIS!? AND WHY HAS ONE OF THEM A JOB!?!
And your words are.
Sacrifice
Mask
Search
Arsonist
Ice blue
Unknown
Tumblr media
Hello menace! you've discovered one of my utter weaknesses that I've never mentioned on here - spirit is my son/lh/j. I love that silly little train kiddo, he's just! So silly goofy!!!
also firm believer that if they both get out - or actually speak to one another then they'll get along really really well. they're twins and I can't be convinced otherwise.
I think the idea of them both spiting the other until reader leaves them both to go and destress would be an eye opener to the both of them, being bitter and not working together is worse for BOTH of them. Of course they'll both bicker about who is the favourite but when push comes to shove, two is always more effective than one.
ALSO LITTLE MENACE SPIRIT???? LOVE HIM oh he deserves to be an absolute little shit for attention, he's just a baby that can do no wrong after all!!!! just a tiny little guy!!!! Baby boy!!!!! he's got his train so now he just needs his older sib's attention!!! so what if he has to mess with someone else's game to do that - it worked so how can you hate him for it?
also the jesus journey bit is actually sending me- he's so desperate for attention he'll break all the rules in order to keep your eyes on him ;-; hopefully you won't reset his game seeing as he's breaking it so much now
heheheheheh tiny baby spirit who can sit in your hand or a baby wind who can fit in your pockets they're just little tiny babies!!!!! little itty bitty guys!!!!! (reminds me of some imgs peep's sent in asks lmao) so what if they shouldn't be there! now they are and that's your problem to deal with!!! they won't cause issues - pinky promise <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(both of these guys are by @artsy-moonwalker, I adore these two little guys beyond belief and spirit looking so scruffy is just so!!!!!! literally baby and I love him so!!!)
as for the words hmmmmm, I think I'll go with ice blue for this one (sorry for the late response too, I know these were last week's after all)
87 notes · View notes
blue-jisungs · 10 months ago
Text
MERRY GO
author's note. 3rd time is the charm so here's my final angst piece in this event :3 no but the song is so:( i saw ian's comment abt it on genius and i just ... dunno, had to write it
word count. 672
summary. your and jun's relationship reminds you of a merry go -- but there is time for you to get off it
Tumblr media
“we need to… stop, whatever this is” 
your voice echoed through the walls – but also in his head. it was heavy but not as heavy as the burden jun carried in his heart.
“i know, i know” jun replied, a sigh escaping his lips.
the silence in the room buzzed between you, a tension hanging densely. one spark of a wrong word and there will be an outbreak. both jun and you knew it well, too well.
“we’re not making any progress, are we?” an airy scoff ripped out of you, something amusing in this helpless situation “it… jun, it feels like an endless loop”
“oh, i know”
shifting in the red leather armchair, crossing your legs, scanning junhui’s silhouette. his eyes were somewhat teary but you weren’t sure if it was because of you or his overall state of being. you knew him like the back of your own hand, like the inside of your pocket. jun was exhausted - both mentally and physically. maybe you were a part of the problem, sure. but something told you he wasn’t taking care of himself properly.
hence you’re here.
“i… we, jun. we can’t keep doing that” your voice was quiet “i'm still fumbling with your memories about the last time we tried, when our worlds were falling away from us”
your relationship with jun was sweet at the beginning. but over time it turned bitter, eventually leading to a breakup. and everything after that - because you wouldn’t call it a relationship - reminded you of a merry-go round carousel. breaking off, ignoring each other and then coming back, only to hurt the other more. again and again, in a loop; in a spinning circle. 
“you don't know what you've done to me, y/n” jun grunted. 
meeting on a neutral ground was a good idea. no sentimental value of his living room or your bedroom. just a cheap motel, with occasionally flickering lights. it lit up his skin with a yellowish gleam, making his brown eyes look less scary to look in. the ridge of his nose which you adored so much looked so appealing, you wished you could just reach your hand out and trace it… like you used to.
“i can’t live without you” the man in front of you said “i want it all back”
“we can’t, junhui” you still loved him but you two ere no good for each other “it’s a lesson we learned too many times. i don’t want to hurt you and… i don’t want to get hurt either”
“i know, i know” jun’s throat felt like there was a rock stuck inside, his ability to speak dropping to a toddler lever.
his work, your frustration. your bottled feelings leading to hurtful words. then redemption - shared moments sweeter than the previous ones, kisses more passionate because both of you knew it will snap eventually. a repeating loophole that you lost count of how many times it has repeated itself.
“one… final chance. i cannot live without you… you, you know it. and you need me” he stuttered out and it was true. both of you acknowledged it. 
with the sound of a flickering lamp in the terrifyingly silent room, a decision was made in your mind - quite the opposite of what your broken heart wanted.
“don’t… call me again. i love you jun but we can’t. i genuinely wish you the best, you deserve it. but i can’t be the one to bring you pure happiness” you didn’t even notice the crystal tears falling down your cheeks.
both of you stood up and jun wiped your skin with a sad smile. one word and he’s going to break down too, you could see it in his eyes. 
“sorry… but you know it’s a right decision” you whispered, letting his embrace comfort you for the last time.
“oh, i know” the most heartbreaking sigh reached your ears.
jun hugged your shaking silhouette, tears balancing at his own waterline as well. 
no more sending back around this merry go.
main masterlist | event masterlist
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu
68 notes · View notes
louroth · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Hello hello everybody! It is time for another months progress, and I am so excited to share with you, all the things I have gotten my grimy little gremlin hands on. First off, what we are all here for; writing. I have been on fire, to be honest! Last month I churned through the last of the first batch of erotica stories (there's 6 (!!!) of them on my patreon already) and set them up for publishing along with two more unseen ones- I'm still going over the logistics of where to publish for the best revenue (I know this sounds boring, but I have to make an income somehow, and hopefully find another audience as a smut writer on other platforms 💀 I love writing it so why not!), and I am making headway, learning the ins and outs of self publishing. On patreon, there are also two Q&A's that are written in a bit more fictional manner, in character: a more fun way than just writing answers straight up and down. I have enjoyed those so much! There's a bunch of other stuff I haven't even mentioned- honestly, I have to say, I'm really proud of my output on Patreon even though I have been really anxious about writing full time. It's going great! I have to thank my new friends and support-network on discord; you make this all worth it. I cannot express how fun it is to shoot the shit with you in vc, gaming together, or seeing your shenanigans in gen or your in depth theories (thanks for the brainworms!) or memes or staring longingly at the fanfic channel or drooling over your art (ouro related or not) or... Gah. You are just amazing people, and I will waste no opportunity in saying so. Thank you forever and ever and ever an-
When it comes to OUROBOROS, I am happy to announce that the next chapter is damn near done! I was halted because of the discovery that dashingdon is no longer supported by it's creator, and have been working on the twine version ever since, earlier than I expected- it's tough work, but I am so excited to make this an actual game made entirely by myself, and not submitting to a company that quite frankly leaves a bitter aftertaste. It is taking long to make because I want to make it mobile compatible from the start, which there isn't a lot of resources for. But I'm doing my best! The plan is that I will be posting the next chapter for Patreons in the coming month, and then treat you to a full twine release here on tumblr. I haven't made any rewrites when porting the twine build, but I would like to do that too... so we will see; this plan is not set in stone. I will just have to see how it evolves over the next month. Yes, beta-readers is still on the schedule, just holding off a little while while I wrap my head around this new coding landscape.
Other than that, I have been working on the set aesthetic for ouro, which has been really hard, a lot harder than I expected. You all know I am no wizard when it comes to graphic design, but I want to at least develop a set palette and imagery and portraits that is cohesive to the story. The work is ongoing, and I don't have much to say about it- even though it is taking a lot of my brain power. I'm hoping I can come to some kind of set and in depth conclusion that I am happy with before the twine release, because I want the game to feel like a treat to open up and play; a world to get lost in.
That's it! If you want to see weekly and more in depth dev-logs, you know where to go. I hope you have an amazing day or night, and we will see each other soon. xx
233 notes · View notes
da-rulah · 1 year ago
Text
WIP Whenever
I've been tagged by the lovely @angellayercake & @portaltothevoid to share a preview of a work in progress... Currently, I'm working on a one shot fic for Secondo as two people have asked for sad/angsty Bone Daddy. So, have at it...
Tumblr media
Warnings: Just angst. Pure angst.
Tumblr media
He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Given the option, he'd abdicate from his position with immediate effect and live out the remainder of his days in a cabin in the Italian Apennines. But that wasn't an option, and he had to face this.
He had to face you.
Sister Imperator had called a meeting of the higher Clergy to welcome you back, and to explain your place in the Ministry to those you'd be working closely with. That included Papa Secondo.
Papa.
When you'd first heard that news, you couldn't help the small smile that had tugged at your lips. He'd always wanted that title, always deserved it. You were happy for him, glad to see that he was where he rightfully should be.
But when you saw him for the first time in that meeting room, sat in his chair at the head of the table, that happiness had dissipated. Fear and dread had filled you, a pain in your chest you thought you'd got over long ago. But the scowl on his face told you the feelings he had toward you were still just anger, spite, bitterness. And no matter how much time you'd had to heal, that scar still pulsated and burned in you.
You remained professional, hardened much like Imperator. You had to be. If you showed him how weak he still made you feel, your authority might be brought into question. You'd worked too hard for that.
As the meeting adjourned, the table got up to leave and you along with it, until you heard his deep and commanding voice from the end of the table.
"Sorella _______, I ask you stay for a moment."
You froze, too frightened too look back at him, too weak to tell him no. Primo and Terzo, who had both been sat on the opposite side of the table to you, shared a look that read as 'oh, shit...' before their glares fell on their brother. Secondo ignored them, shooing the rest of the clergy out of the doors.
Nobody said a word, simply leaving quickly and quietly until you were alone with Papa.
A moment of silence passed between you both; Secondo had so much he wished to say to you, so many apologies and regrets he'd practised so often in the last eight years but they all vanished when your eyes fell on his. He saw the fear in them; it reminded him of that night.
"I... It's... You look well."
That was it? That was all he could say to you?
You drew in a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of composure before clasping your hands together in front of you and masking your disappointment and hurt with a business-like demeanour.
"As do you."
"How have you been?" he asks, although it's cold and merely to fill a silence.
"Busy. Yourself?" you mimic his tone; you'd rather be anywhere but here right now.
"Troppo (me too)."
You nodded. "Congratulations. "Papa"... what you always wanted," you forced a smile, gesturing at the robes and mitre he adorned.
"Ah, sí, sí..." he kicked at the titles at his feet, shuffling as he stared down at them awkwardly. "Sorella, I-"
"It was good to see you, Papa," his head snapped up at the use of his title, it sounding foreign and wrong coming from you. "Now if you'll excuse me..." you dismissed yourself, bowing your head to him slightly and gathering your notebook and pen before making your way out of the meeting room. Secondo stared after you, lost with his apology he'd finally found and mustered up the courage to deliver still dangling from the tip of his tongue.
Tumblr media
Tagging: @her-satanic-wiles
127 notes · View notes
elderberries-and-honey · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 "𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘦" 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥
Dear Marmee,
The bitter cold crept in slowly at first but there is no denying winter has arrived here in Wales. Everything is now covered in a sheet of white snow.
Every morning, I wake before the rooster's crow. Our friend Beth has moved in with us and she enjoys knitting very much. She has knitted me two new sweaters before Christmas has even come and they keep me much warmer than my worn-out coat from last Winter. It's a good thing too 'cause there's still much to be done on our farm, though I've made a rather decent amount of progress.
Even so, we hardly had any remaining produce leftover for ourselves after selling what I was able to salvage from our terrible blight. I won't burden you too much with our troubles but things have been rough here for us and I know Winifred is silently troubling herself over it.
You mentioned Jo is trying to get published? Please let me know how that goes for her. I think it might just inspire Winifred who is still glued to her typewriter whenever she has the time to write.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely, Lawrence
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dear Marmee,
I'm sorry to hear Jo was turned down in her quest to get published. Hopefully it won't discourage her from trying. Have you heard from Amy in Paris? How are Meg and Mr. Brooks? How does Beth like teaching piano?
Many of our animals, including the thorn in my side, Frank the Goose, passed on near the end of November. Without their eggs and milk to sell, money is tighter than ever.
Winifred has begun fretting over how we will make a good Christmas for Ozzy. So I've started working at the pub again to help us make it through the rest of winter and afford a few gifts for him. I'm struggling to come up with an idea on what to get Winifred, after all, how could I top her typewriter? If you have any ideas, please include them in your next letter.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ozzy is doing quite well, thank you for asking. He likes to "help" me on the farm but mostly he enjoys playing in the snow with the garden shovels and trying to escape to our small pond. You would not believe the tantrums he throws when I have to wrangle him away from the edge. I can almost understand how my Father felt when I was a boy and he would paddle my bottom. The boy is like a fish the way he enjoys the water! Even bathtime seems to be his favorite part about bedtime.
It was a struggle to get him out of his crib and into a real bed but we needed to complete the transition before our new little one arrives. With Beth here to teach us patience, I can proudly declare we have finally succeeded.
Sincerely, Lawrence
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dear Marmee,
We're approaching our due date rather quickly, a little under 3 months now. Millie has been staying with Louise for the Winter (and giving her free cooking lessons) after agreeing to stay and help Winifred deliver the baby, which I'm thankful for. I know this is a huge relief for Winifred. Her last delivery was not without complications and I know she grows uneasy the closer we get.
I know Winifred believes the baby will be a girl but I have my own suspicions we will welcome another son. I'm not wholly certain I could handle another little girl after we lost Flora. Not yet, rather. The pain of losing a child never truly leaves, does it?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I did not mean to ignore your inquiry over how I'm fairing. I must keep a courageous face for my family, and consequently I've grown used to wearing my mask of gallantry. Since you so kindly asked though, I will admit that I am a little worn down as of late.
I spend long hours tending the farm and go to work even longer hours in the pub. Valerie, good hearted as she is, is not the best co-worker, often drinking herself stupid before the nights out. I suppose it's true what they say about you Irish folk.
Tumblr media
Most of my trouble comes from myself, I suppose. I watched my father save this very farm many times over and I should want to do the same. But with every plant that refused to sprout, I found myself resentful over having ever inherited it.
I think of my wife, the writer, the poet, and how she is able to read Ozzy her stories. I think of Jackson with his pub, and his son, Patrick, who's becoming a doctor, and you with your bookshop. Even my father who provided my mother and I with food, and a roof over our heads because he cared for the farm so tenderly. All of you, with such passion.
Even if I was as passionate as my father, the farming industry is changing. All these extravagant advancements are putting farmers out of work all over. If the farm were to go under, what would I do? It's all I've ever known.
If I don't have time to write before Christmas Day - I hope you have a Merry Christmas. Send my love to your girls and wish them the same for me as well.
Sincerely, Lawrence
P.S. Don't be cross with me for the joke, I only say it in jest. The Irish could drink me under the table any day of the week and sing a merry tune whilst doing so which is rather remarkable.
next / previous / first
40 notes · View notes
hand-written-dreams · 20 days ago
Text
CRIMSON SHADE
Tumblr media
Chapter 19
In Plain Sight
Tumblr media
When I'm out of breath, she's my vitals
When I need to rev, she's my ride-or-die
When I'm out of faith, she's my idol
I just killed a man, she's my alibi.
- ( the song of the chapter is 'Alibi' by Pabllo Vittar, Sevdaliza, and Yseult)
Tumblr media
She slams the laptop shut, the loud click reverberating through her otherwise silent office. Her jaw tightens as the whirlwind events of last week continue to churn in her mind.
Arnav Singh Raizada is a manipulative despicable asshole.
There's no other way to describe him than that.
She huffs, frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior. Three weeks, 22 days to be exact into her new role at Paragon Tech, and already, he had maneuvered her into an unsettlingly dubious situation.
Her fingers hover over the laptop for a moment, as if debating whether to dive back into her work or hurl it across the room. Instead, she leans back. If he thinks she's going to crumble under his games, he's wrong. Two can play the same game. She will play his game on her terms.
You don't scare me, Raizada.
After everything he put her through the last couple of days, now he's avoiding her.
You don't scare me, Raizada, but it seems like I do scare you. After you let me have a glimpse of your dark soul, you're hiding.
For two weeks, he was constantly on her face every morning. Then five days and the office hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of his infuriatingly pretty face. Did he really think he could make her crave his presence and then disappear like a ghost?
Not going to happen.
She makes him feel like she's a small girl again, who is hungry for attention and affection.
And she hates him for it. She won't let him win in his twisted little game. She has killed that little girl a long time ago.
Her way of retaliation is to serve him a taste of his own bitter medicine. No more direct updates, no texting him. Every piece of information now flows through Aman, whom she's tasked with passing along her progress to their elusive boss.
Did he really expect anything less after what he pulled the past few days? And she is not just talking about the ignoring stunt.
She exhales sharply, her fingers curling into fists. She knew he would be destructive to her already fragile mental health.
That disgustingly attractive bastard.
And she is....attracted to him.
Obviously.
Her lips press into a thin line.
There's no point denying it anymore.
But what's interesting is, she isn't alone in this, is she?
The corner of her lips lifts slightly.
The way his gaze lingers when she isn't looking, the way his eyes darken when they finally meet hers, as if caught in a dangerous debate, whether to squeeze the life out of her or...well let's not go there just yet.
It's unsettling, to say the least.
And yet, oddly reassuring. He's as affected by her as she is by him. The thump of his heart still pulses in her palm, wild and untamed.....and he hates it.
Arnav Singh Raizada slips around her, and he despises every moment of it. She sees it in the rigid set of his jaw, the clipped edge of his voice whenever she's close, and the calculated distance he keeps...an armor of ice he dons to restrain himself, to feign indifference.
He hates that he's attracted to her.
But that still doesn't explain why he wanted to kill her. Being attracted to her can't be the reason, can it?
Is it connected to his sister?
To her being lost in the Triad tribe? Could her father somehow be involved in this tangled mess?
Is that why he despises her?
Her head throbs as the questions pile up, each one more maddening than the last. Nothing about him, or his motives, makes sense. And yet, she can't stop trying to piece together the puzzle.
People take people who they are attracted to, out for candlelit dinners, to watch sunsets, or to share secrets under the stars.
But with Arnav Singh Raizada?
She gets...
Underground fight clubs,
Hostage negotiations,
Cold-blooded assassinations.
A true romantic at heart!!
She runs a hand through her hair. He single-handedly eliminated all the main players of the Mumbai Wolves..the security head first, then the boss and the heir....with her as his alibi.
She should have known.
She is just a pawn to him,
Just another piece on his chessboard.
She is just sulking now
And, he is just using her.
He's showed her what he is. She knew the risks.
He's either trying to scare her away or punishing her for the unforgivable crime of making his heart race like this, a clink in his controlled facade.
Tumblr media
1 week Ago
She was stuck in traffic, the kind that crawled and pressed against her patience. Morning rush hour...her least favorite part of the day. But what could she say? She was a nine-to-five person now, tethered to the grind like everyone else.
Still, she would take this any day over the luxury that came with being under the suffocating thumb of her father. The freedom, even in its chaos, felt far more worth it.
She's proud of herself. For the first time in her life. She had designed an intricate system, a meticulously organized network, that discreetly funneled information to the CBI about the timing and locations of human trafficking shipments before her father could do anything about it.
It was small, almost fragile, but undeniable, like the first light of dawn breaking through a darkened sky, this feeling crept into her chest. She felt a flicker of something new.
A purpose.
She was no longer just her father's puppet, a mere extension of his will. She was her own person, wielding the power of her intelligence against him.
The days that followed were consumed by analyzing the data they had extracted from the casino owned by the Triad Tribe and Dhruv Rao's phone, which she later discovered Aman had pinged. The sleazy voice of Dhruv Rao, through which he had called her "Kitten," still sounded just as repugnant and vile on the recordings. And at the same time she was searching for a girl.
She didn't need to tell twice who she was.....the same sharp features, the same brown eyes. The moment she saw the picture, she knew.
The girl was his sister.
But what she couldn't comprehend was how someone like her could have ended up in a place like the Triad Tribe's den. Had they miscalculated? Were they searching in the wrong place? Was she somewhere else entirely?
And that was the last time she saw him.
It's been two days, including today and there's a fair chance she would see him today.
Not that she missed him or anything. She's just saying.
It's not like his absence leaves an annoying, hollow ache in the quiet moments or that her mind stubbornly replayed his infuriating smirk. Nope, none of that.
She didn't miss the way his voice dripped with sarcasm or how his piercing gaze always seemed to read her like an open book.
She's just stating facts. That's all.
That she hadn't seen him yesterday.
Sigh, Khushi, you are pathetic. Don't be clingy.
The sharp knock on her window startled her, pulling her abruptly from her spiraling thoughts.
What the hell? Did her mind just conjure him here?
She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing, before unlocking the door. He slipped into the passenger seat with effortless ease, his large frame somehow fitting into the confined space. She ignored the way his presence threatened to swallow her whole.
It felt surreal, unsettling even, to have him in her car. The scent of leather and sandalwood drifted in with him, the hood of his leather jacket was pulled up over his head, masking most of his face except for those piercing eyes.
"Some people are going to kidnap you at the next signal," he said, as casually as one would comment on the weather. "And you're going to let them."
"What?" Her voice sharpened. "No!"
"Yes," his voice smooth and nonchalant, "because I'm going to get kidnapped right alongside you."
Her brows knitted in disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"No," he was dead serious.
Her pulse quickened. "How do you know all of this?"
"I have my ways," he said, leaning back slightly. His tone drops, cold and matter-of-fact. "The hound dog's been barking too much. It's time I shut him down."
This was madness. Why should she listen to anything he said?
Her mind raced with reasons to slam on the brakes, to throw him out of the car. But somehow, some morbidly curious part of her, a reckless whisper in the back of her mind, wanted to follow him, wherever he took her.
Every ounce of logic, every shred of self-preservation, screamed against it. And yet, she found herself leaning into the chaos he brought, letting her trust him despite knowing better.
Just like she let him inside her car. Just like she once let him inside her room, inside her world.
"I've no reason to trust you. But it feels like I can...Why is that?" She blurted it out, the words escaping before she could rein them in. She couldn’t believe she had voiced her inner musings aloud.
"I have one of those faces."
She gave him a withering look. It's not the time for sarcastic jokes, Raizada.
"Yes, you can trust me. I won't let them hurt you," he unleashed the full power of his caramel browns on her. "Just act unconscious before the chloroform even starts working. Don't struggle."
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding, and nodded in agreement, unable to muster a word.
True to his prediction, it happened at the very next signal. Smooth, precise, and disturbingly effortless...like a walk in the park.
The car doors flew open, hands gripping her with practised efficiency. She forced her body to go limp, letting her head loll to the side as if the chloroform had already claimed her consciousness.
Through her half-closed eyes, she catches a glimpse of him, calm and
composed, as though this was just another of his board meetings.
She snapped her eyes open as the sharp, electric buzz of a taser filled the air, followed by Raizada's pained groan. Her pulse spiked, cold dread settling over her. The chloroform hadn't fully knocked her out. Instead, it left a dizzying haze that clouded her mind. She couldn't remember when she had drifted into sleep.
"Fuck...You should have just called me. I would've woken up."
The man and his sarcasm.
Her gaze darted around, taking in the dimly lit warehouse. It smelt of damp concrete and rusting metal.
"Surprise, surprise," the burly man in front of Raizada said mockingly, his voice muffled by the black mask covering his face. His massive arms strained against the seams of his tight black T-shirt, the fabric threatening to tear with every flex. ''An eagle and serpent. People are going to eat this story up. Romeo."
Raizada was placed a few feet away in the center of the room, his jacket discarded, revealing a fitted, long-sleeved, dark sweater. His hands were zip-tied together behind the back of the wooden chair he was sitting in. Yet, his posture was deceptively relaxed.
She glanced down at her own restraints, tight cuffs digging into her wrists and her breath stuttered.
Is this how it ends? Tied up in some godforsaken corner with an eagle.
People would call them Romeo and Juliet, the mafia version. At least Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet loved each other.
Her Romeo hates her guts.
Idiot, you should have thought about all of this before blindly trusting him.
"Oh, you're a fan." Raizada quipped, his voice a low drawl despite the pain etched across his face. ''Sorry, I can't give you an autograph. I'm a little tied up right now."
The masked man chuckled. ''As it's your lucky day, I'll cut to business real quick..."
"Take the mask off,'' Raizada interrupted, his tone like ice. ''Then we'll talk, hound dog"
Hound dog?
As in, Adam Marcus, the Wolves' security head.
Fuck, they are screwed.
The man pulled his mask off him, pacing and circling Raizada's chair. His boots scraped against the concrete floor, the sound grating her nerves.
"You made my work easier. After this little work, I planned to go meet you...Now that we're all cozy, tell me, Vulture, Why are your men dumping the bodies of Vishal Hegde's men in our territory? What exactly are you trying to cover up?"
Oh, are they talking about the men who died trying to kill her? That's why the serpents didn't see anybody on their way back.
"Why are you covering your ass by blaming me?" Raizada shot back, his eyes gleaming. "You can't even control your own men. What proof do you have that these men were mine? Hegde never liked you, just like you never liked him. Don't drag me into your petty feud, Hound Dog."
The man's jaw tightened. He stepped closer to her, his towering presence radiating menace. ''Tell me the truth, or I'll kill the girl."
Her heart skipped, but she kept her
expression neutral, unwilling to show
fear.
"You. won't. Fucking. Touch. Her.''
The words escaped him so calm and deadly it stilled the air.
"Hegre double-crossed me. But I had tapped his phone. He gave his men orders to kill this girl. I'll soon find out why?"
Mr. Raizada's dark eyes narrow, "You are working blind regarding her. You don't know why Hegre ordered to kill her. So you plan on pressing the Serpents to gain some information by kidnapping her. Am I right, Marcus?"
"You don't know shit."
"I also know that you need her. The Wolves' arms shipment has been seized at the border by the Serpents. Or have you forgotten? Some security expert you are."
The man growled, his patience visibly
thinning. "Don't play smart with me Vulture. I have proof...cars, bodies. Even if I can't prove it outright, I can create enough doubt. Either you pay me to shut my mouth about your doings or I'll take this to the boss...or better I can kill you right here right now...both of you."
Mr.Raizada tilted his head, unbothered.
"I don't concern myself with corrupt
mercenaries like you. I knew you'd come crawling to me eventually."
Marcus snarled, pulling out the taser again. The electric buzz fills the room as he presses it against Raizada's chest.
Another jolt of electricity
Another groan of pain.
"Don't enrage me, Vulture," Marcus
snapped, his tone venomous. "I can smash your head in between my palms."
Raizada let out a bitter laugh. "Pfft. I can eat ten Navy SEALs like you for breakfast. You wouldn't dare."
"And why wouldn't I?"
"Because I'm going to kill you.''
Marcus snorted. dismissive."You're delusional. You're zip-cuffed to that chair."
''Not anymore," he spread his unbound arms wide on both sides, like the fucking menacing vulture that he was.
All five men charged at him, their movements chaotic and uncoordinated in their haste.
In one fluid motion, he sidestepped, swinging the chair between his legs. He slammed it into one man's chest with enough force to send him sprawling, the sharp crack of wood meeting bone echoing through the warehouse. Wasting no time, he grabbed one of the jagged chair legs and drove it into the man's neck.
Marcus stepped forward, but Raizada moved faster. His hand darted to Marcus's holster, yanking the gun free. Two sharp shots filled the air as he dropped two more men before they could even process what was happening.
Marcus roared and swung at him, causing Raizada to drop the gun. But he ducked in Marcus's next attack, fluid and calculating, countering with a punishing uppercut that connected squarely with Marcus's jaw, sending the larger man staggering backwards. Another attacker lunged, but Raizada drove his elbow into the man's face. Blood spattered as the man crumpled.
Marcus started firing using another gun. Wasting no time, Raizada swung the previous attacker in front of him, using the struggling man as a human shield. He then advanced toward Marcus, who emptied his magazine into his own man's chest in a futile attempt to regain control.
Before Marcus could reload, Raizada closed the distance with astonishing speed. He wrenched the weapon from Marcus's hands and locked his arm around the man's neck in a chokehold.
"Who are you, Mr.Raizada?" Marcus gasped, clawing desperately at the arm crushing his windpipe.
"You're about to find out."
"You don't have to do this," Marcus wheezed, his voice barely audible.
"Oh, I do," Raizada's tone is almost conversational, but his grip tightened mercilessly. "Nobody can know my secret."
With a final, brutal twist, he broke Marcus's neck. The sickening crack echoed through the warehouse, and Marcus's lifeless body crumpled to the floor like a discarded puppet.
She watched the entire scene, her breath trapped somewhere between awe and terror. When his gaze finally locked with hers, she froze, unable to look away.
"Have you seen anything, little bird?" his voice dangerously soft.
She shook her head violently, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
"Good girl." The faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips.
He stepped toward the table where their belongings were dumped, phones, car keys, wallets. He retrieved a knife from the table. He moved back to her, slicing through the zip-cuffs around her wrists.
"How did you get free?" she asked in a shaky voice.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe in magic?"
Her glare in response was sharp, and he chuckled, the sound low and rough. "I can dislocate my thumb joint."
Her brows shoot up. "Want to pass along the wisdom someday?"
"One day," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "If you survive."
.
.
.
After the kidnapping, he sent her home. No thanks required.
What did she do when she got home instead of going to work? She spied on her father and that son-of-a-bitch fiancé. Using her hidden microphone, she listened to their conversation in her father's study.
There's unrest stirring within the family. What she learned that day was that the serpents had been keeping goods from other families that passed through their borders, hidden from everyone's knowledge. And the CBI agent, who she had thought was working against the mafia, was actually an undercover triple agent. He was part of the serpents but had sold their smuggling secrets to the wolves for a small fortune. When her father found out, he killed the agent on the spot and seized all the Wolves' goods along the border to keep the Wolves' mouths shut.
But there was one thing her father didn't know, yet.
The Wolves had sent Adam Marcus to handle the situation another way...and now, he was dead.
And she was both the witness and the alibi.
Ugh.
An interesting tidbit, though, Dhruv Rao went missing for five days, only to be found later with severed hands and tongue, his body dumped in front of The Casino where he operated.
A threat.
She had a nagging feeling about who did it. Not nagging, she is 99.99999% sure.
They said a new player had entered the scene. They called him The Ghost, a name whispered in fear and fascination. He moved like a phantom... silent, unseen, and untouchable. Nobody knew who he might be, even the boldest dared not hazard a wild guess.
She didn't have to guess.
Her father was worried about the Ghost as well.
The Delhi Police had discovered Mr. Jha's lighter at the scene of the Triad Tribe Hotel fire, an incident that resulted in the death of a member of the Wolves. Fortunately, the investigating officer was an old acquaintance of her father, ensuring the matter was discreetly resolved.
But he thought it was a deliberate act.
A warning or a message.
Sent by the Ghost.
He feared the Ghost might target them next.
Days passed, and she kept spying on her father. Most of it was just mundane, day-to-day chatter. After the death of Adam Marcus was known to all, the Wolves put all the blame on the Serpents and the serpent denied it. So, the wolves and the serpents had decided to meet on neutral ground, to settle their differences through discussion. No one wanted more bloodshed, no matter the side.
At last, peace would be achieved. But Arnav Singh Raizada, or should she say The Ghost, didn't like peace. He like anarchy.
.
.
.
A black box was placed on her desk, sleek and unmarked. She eyed it warily, suspicion flickering across her face.
"What it is?" She asked, skeptical.
"Your freedom."
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue. Instead, she opened the box, revealing a black drive nestled in velvet lining. The craftsmanship of the box was immaculate, but it paled in comparison to what the drive represents.
"It's the drive Mr. Gupta kept in his private vault," he said, his tone almost nonchalant.
Her mouth fell open. "How?"
He shrugged. "I bought the bank... under an alias."
Her lips curved into a smile, almost involuntarily. The weight she'd carried for years feels lighter, almost gone. She was no longer under her father's control.
"What if he suspects it's missing?"
"An identical drive is in its place. A very glitchy one."
Her brows knitted together. He obviously needed something in return. So, she simply stared at him, her eyes silently asking the question.
What do you want?
Another shrug. "You just need your tab."
She narrowed her eyes, studying him for a long moment. "You want me to go somewhere with you?"
He shook his head, his voice lowering.
"No. I want you to convince yourself it was your brilliant idea all along.... because you want to show your gratitude."
She bit the underside of his lips, glaring at him.
.
.
.
"We're going on a picnic?" She asked, her voice dripping with disbelief as she stared at the under-construction multistory building looming before them and the picnic basket in his trunk.
Without a word, he handed her a pair of gloves. He already slipped his on. He pulled out the picnic basket in one hand and a long black box with handles in the other.
The gloves weren't her first clue that they were up to no good.
She hacked the CCTV feed of the building before they even stepped out of the car, creating a false layer to loop the footage. And then, they parked the car a good distance away from the building and walked the rest of the way.
The makeshift elevator groaned and rattled as it carried them upward.
From the top, the city stretched out beneath them, tiny and inconsequential from this height, a glittering mosaic of chaos and order.
He asked her to spread the blanket from the basket almost near the edge. He crouched beside the black box, unlatching it with deliberate precision.
When he lifted the lid, her suspicions solidified. A sniper rifle lay inside, sleek and deadly.
This wasn't a picnic.
Far from it.
They settled on the blanket side by side and they waited. He glanced at his watch, then reached into the basket, pulling out a box of dark chocolate truffles.
She shot him a glare, her eyes shifting between him and the chocolate.
"What? You don't like them?"
Something in her told her that he knew they were her favorites. But she wasn't that transparent, nor was she that easy.
You can't melt me with a box of chocolate truffles, Raizada.
And it would be a shame to waste such a delicious treat. So, she pulled one out and popped it in her mouth.
The side of his lips crinkled with triumph. He always won.
After a few more minutes of waiting, he handed her a pair of binoculars and she took them without hesitation.
"Look at the west-east corner," he said, adjusting the scope of the rifle.
She raised the binoculars and froze.
Holy shit.
Two groups faced each other.
The Serpent and the Wolves,
Their bosses were flanked by consigliere, underbosses, and heavily armed guards.
The peace negotiation.
"If this goes south..." it means war.
"It will," He adjusted the scope, the faint metallic click cutting through the silence.
Through her binoculars, she saw Senior Naik and Mr.Jha shaking hands. Her heart pounded, but Raizada's breathing remained slow, deliberate, matching the rhythm of his movements.
The muffled crack of the rifle startles her, even though she was expecting it. Through the lenses, she saw Senior Naik stumble, a perfect shot to his heart. He crumpled to the ground. The second man reacted, his head whipping around, but it was too late.
The second shot was fired. The young man, beside senior Naik, collapsed instantly. The group broke into chaos. She saw her father trying to shield Mr.Jha as they moved to safety.
Two bodies of the Wolves' boss and the heir lying on the ground, while their security details were looking around dumbfounded.
She lowered the binoculars slowly, her
hands trembling. Beside her, he's still, scanning the area. His calmness was unnerving. He looked at her, "Do I scare you now, Little bird?"
The fact that he used her special nickname in this situation made her blood boil. She looked at him with all the disdain she could muster.
His eyes met her.
Heartless, cutting, bitter.
His look grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her underwater.
"Go to hell, Raizada."
"Been there, done that. I have to say I am not particularly impressed."
And she believed him. He was an ocean at the bottom of an ocean, where only the darkest creatures could thrive.
They said, 'You can always tell by the eyes.'
His eyes were both nightmares and sweetest dreams, heaven and hell intertwined, ice and fire locked in an eternal dance. They held secrets no one dared to uncover, truths that could shatter the strongest of wills. With those eyes and that commanding presence, he had seen and done things that even the darkest corners of the mafia couldn't fathom.
He could pass for normal, but only because of his devastatingly handsome face, a mask that kept the world blind to the monster lurking beneath. Without it, the illusion would shatter, and they would see him for what he truly was.
Inhuman.
The devil.
The hell boy.
"When did you realised you aren't human."
"First time I killed someone."
Drip, drip, drip. He was too deep in the red ocean. There's something dark and genuine behind her favourite caramel-browns and she realised he was letting her see it.
The crimson drops collecting in his soul, each one a stain that would never fade.
The clanks of metal, the relentless hammering, and the roar of fire that forged him.
"How old were you?"
A whisper. Words were too heavy to float in this moment.
"14."
His voice detached, but each word was laced with an elusive undertone, a sharp, abrasive edge, as if shaped by some deep, forbidden sin buried within.
So, it's true. He killed Mr.Jha's father when he was a mere boy. Today he killed two more men of the same rank.
A fourteen-years old boy has turned into a man forged by fire and blood, unyielding, unbroken, and utterly lethal.
"Unless you prefer to go to jail, we should get moving."
She remained silent while they moved fast, collecting their belongings and swiftly moved back to the car. He dropped her at the office with the box of chocolate truffles which she devoured in minutes.
She had a habit of stress eating.
Tumblr media
Present day
Was all of this just to scare me? Or to see whether I am trustworthy or not?
He is that type of man at first glance, his face commands attention, symmetrical and flawlessly proportioned, untouched even by the cold, chiseled expression that may have otherwise hardened its appeal.
A second glance reveals the kind of body women sigh over, broad shoulders, a powerful frame that speaks of strength without effort. But it's the third look that unveils the most dangerous aspect of him and it's not his ability to kill without batting an eye.
Every movement, every shift of his gaze, carries the unmistakable mark of intellect, sharp and calculating. He isn't just present, he's strategizing, as if the rest of the people are mere chess pieces on a board he already controls, each of them awaiting his next inevitable move.
And he's studying her. Every reaction, every decision, every moment of hesitation. It's a game to him, and she's the unwilling player. The absurdity of these situations is maddening. It's not like anyone would believe her if she tried to tell them the truth, but she knows he's waiting to see if she'd even try.
She hates him for it.
She hates him for making her a silent witness to the darkness he thrives in. For tying her silence to his chaos. For showing her, piece by horrifying piece, how monstrous he is. He wants her to see him for what he truly is...not the polished façade, not the dangerous charm, but the shadow that engulfs everything in his path.
But deep down, she's terrified. Not just of him, but of the part of her that stays, that craves his presence. Because no matter how much she wants to run away, she can't help but run toward the him.
It's almost evening now. Her focus shifts back to the lead she's been chasing all day. She can't afford to let this slip. She needs to talk to him. And this time, it's not about what he wants, it's about what she needs.
She sends Aman a quick text, asking for a meeting, and he replies almost instantly. GPS coordinates. "Drop by," he says, like this is just another casual chat.
But she knows where those coordinates lead. She knows the house.
She takes a deep breath, grabbing her bag. The air feels heavier, anticipation prickling her skin. Whatever is waiting for her there, it won't just be about the lead. It never is with Arnav Singh Raizada.
Tumblr media
Author's Note:
Confession time.
This was the first scene I ever envisioned for this story. It's the one that inspired everything else.
Tumblr media
Don't ask me why, but I wanted to write a story where Arnav was like this. This was the first scenario that came to my mind.
Also I wanted to express my undying adoration for these two men.
I've been waiting since the beginning to write this chapter, and maybe I've messed it up. But I don't regret it. There's another chapter I'm dying to write, chapter 22 or 23, and I can't wait to share it with you.
<previous> | <next>
@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @9artsdragon
9 notes · View notes
mbti-notes · 24 hours ago
Text
Anon wrote: Hello mbti-notes. Happy holiday and new year. Hope this year is a better year. INTP here. My question is about being stuck in Si loop. I can't seem to be able to get out of it. And it's been a (long) while.
When I was a teenager, I wanted to become an adult, I wanted to get strong, successful, independent, more capable, but now I resent it. There are so many unexpected and unwanted changes and I just can't get used to them. When I look at my timeline, and some other people's timelines, I think to myself that despite all the progresses in science and tech, and all the claims that life has become easier and more convenient, life quality is getting worse.
People around me are getting older, weaker, less beautiful, less capable, needier, more bitter. They age, lose their youth privilege, lose their health, motivation, opportunities, and they keep having more regrets and bad memories, more setbacks, more deaths, more divorces, more lost opportunities than before. Interpersonal and family relationships are getting more awkward and more complicated, people are getting more bitter, colder and more distant, less forgiving, less open, less supportive, more judgemental.
Maybe it's what adulthood has always been for everyone. Maybe it's because of tech and social media. While tech is not all bad and has pros and cons, I can't ignore the cons. Most people around me have become adapted or even somewhat addicted to tech, social media or mobile gaming and seem to enjoy them. They spend more time thinking about their online image or other people's online lives, than building actual memories or doing actual stuffs for the sakes of it. Maybe I'm wrong, but things are getting more complicated. Al and Social media are getting integrated in every aspect of our lives. We have less privacy.
I had tough childhood and teenage years, but all of this makes me think that things were simpler and somewhat better when I was a teenager. My loved ones were younger, healthier, more capable, more hopeful, more positive and forgiving, with better interpersonal and social lives, more friends, more activities, more possibilities and less physical or behavioral issues and less social media influences.
And society seemed more simple, easier, kinder, less complex, more forgiving, less sensitive, more supportive and inclusive.
Plus, I myself was mentally stronger, a bit more self-confident, more hopeful, cheerful, curious, more motivated and less sensitive.
I could never predict these things back then as a teenager. But as I see these patterns over time, I think life, or at least my life is getting worse and worse and more complicated with time. To the point that I have lost my interest in life, live in the state of cynicism, numbness and limbo, and often engage in Si, nostalgia and regressing back to my teenage years in order to seek guidance or calmness.
[(Please delete the following paragraph if it gets your blog in trouble) :
I'm still curious about the universe, cultures and some other subjects. But overall, I have lost my interest in life and living. To the point that I chronically wish there could be a quit button (even when I sleep). I have tried most things, even antidepressants, but they don't seem to make a difference. It makes me think it is not major depression, but realism, or a type of depression related to life situation and unhealthy Si loop. I can see that some aspects of my life are genuinely better now, but that doesn't seem to be enough to improve my mental state.
I keep these thought patterns internal and don't share it with other people, in order to not make them concerned or more depressed, but I sometimes wonder why they rarely think or care about these obvious issues and how they haven't lost interest in living.]
I seem to be stuck in a Si loop. I have lost care for present, yearning and optimism for future, and keep regressing back to past, in order to experience calmness and simplicity.
I have tried to focus on my Ne, my interests and curiousities, in order to bring my past self back, but even when I have the mental and physical energy for that, it only seems to work temporarily and these negative thoughts keep getting triggered and coming back.
How do I stop myself and force myself out of Si loop when I'm somewhat addicted to it?
---------------------
There are two aspects to this problem that you seem to be overlooking:
(1) The key concept comes in the last sentence you wrote, about being "addicted". People opt to stay in tertiary loop or maintain an addiction because they get some kind of "benefit" from it that they aren't willing to relinquish. Just as a drug addict is aware of the health risks but isn't willing to relinquish the highs, as long as you keep believing that the "benefit" is worth the suffering, then change isn't going to happen, is it?
What "benefits" do people get from tertiary loop? Generally speaking, many possible things, including but not limited to:
safety from perceived threats
feelings of comfort or relief (from negative feelings/emotions)
escape from problems and demands for change
"evidence" to confirm underlying biases and prejudices
reinforcement of their negative attitude
protection for distorted, illusory, or grandiose beliefs
a sense of power or control (to cover up low self-esteem)
a sense of dominance or superiority (to cover up low self-worth)
rationalizations for unethical or destructive behavior
ways to excuse or justify repeated mistakes and failures
In short, tertiary loop is an ego defense mechanism. Ego defense mechanisms allow people to avoid facing up to deep psychological problems, usually through some form of distraction, deflection, deferral, or denial.
(2) The second aspect of the problem follows from the first. When people use defense mechanisms to avoid confronting psychological problems, it makes them unable to see just how wrong their thinking is, which allows them to reside in a mental space where they never have to admit they're wrong. This is soothing to the ego. It feels good to always be right, doesn't it? If you really want to exit tertiary loop, the first step is to recognize that there's something very wrong with your thinking.
Notice how your question is about psychology yet you go off on many tangents about society, a mythological past, social media, tech, AI, etc etc? While it's true that those things do have an influence over people, at the end of the day, aren't YOU the one who makes the final decisions about your own life?
It seems you want to be able to claim that some "thing" - something that is not you - is "causing" you to be unhappy. But isn't the truth of the matter more like you are unhappy because you don't care enough about yourself and your life to improve it? And even in the rare event that you feel motivated to improve your life, is it not true that your own lack of imagination continually holds you back?
When you look into the world and judge the people around you and how they live their lives, what you're really doing is looking for inspiration about how you should live yours? And when you don't get inspired, you denounce the world as empty or meaningless? You talk about how the world was "better before", when you were younger, but isn't that because you were new and had a lot to learn, so the world was full of wonder and, therefore, felt wonderful to you? What if you were only born five years ago?
What this shows you is that the problem lies mainly in your own perception - not the world out there. You've essentially become jaded because your view of the world was far too naive and simplistic to begin with. Every time "reality" turned out to be different than what you expected, you fixated on the disappointments and lost more and more of your hopeful attitude. Instead of rising to the occasion to understand complexity and adapt to reality, you rejected reality. And now you're stuck on an island of your own making.
Yes, factually, one cannot deny that there are lots of problems in this world, and they do sometimes constrain us. However, the difference between healthy vs unhealthy NPs is that healthy NPs see problems as opportunities. In other words, it is precisely because we are constantly being challenged by problems that human beings have many chances to exercise ingenuity and learn, improve, grow, mature, and evolve over time. From this perspective, problems ought to be accepted and treated as necessary for living a full life.
You believe "reality" or "society" are bad things that beat people down. You're looking for a scapegoat, so you point your finger and blame whatever for your unhappiness. But the problem largely lies within you and your denial of reality. When human beings get offended by problems and recoil from them, they trap themselves in a mental corner, and problems remain unresolved. As a result, they stop learning, improving, growing, maturing, and evolving - they stop living. From this perspective, wishing for a problem-free life is like wishing for spiritual death.
If you want to call yourself a rational person, you must face up to the facts of life. The facts of life include pain and suffering. And pain and suffering serve a purpose to teach you lessons and help you become the person you're meant to be. If you truly want to change your life, then you have to face up to and take responsibility for the pain and suffering you feel, rather than deflect and blame. Listen to pain carefully because it will tell you exactly what needs to change. And it is your job to make the necessary changes for your own well-being.
Your question is about psychology, yet you talk all around the most important aspects of psychological well-being rather than confronting them directly: feelings and emotions. If you were to read what you wrote as an objective third party, you might be able to see just how alienated and lonely the author really is.
Alienation and loneliness are painful emotions, aren't they? At least, they should be. Do you really allow yourself to feel them, or do you instantly deflect? In order to solve a problem, you first have to be aware of it. These emotions are important because they make you aware of a serious problem of not having a place in the world, of not mattering, of not belonging anywhere.
Every person is a unique individual, so we all have a unique path to take for carving out a space in society. It used to be that your place was forced upon you through family or society. People nowadays have more freedom to choose, so in that way, we are better than the past. Instead of appreciating the freedom and making full use of it, you expect what, for everything in life to just magically fall into place for you? Freedom comes with the responsibility to wield it wisely.
If you want to feel like you matter, that the world matters, that life matters, then you have to DO things that matter in the world. Mattering is not an abstract concept. It is found in the concrete ways through which you relate to the world. But it sounds like you don't do much relating to the world other than spectating and judging it from a distance? Your actions won't amount to much as long as your vision doesn't stretch far enough beyond your own ego.
Things seem different nowadays because they are. Nowadays, people's knowledge of the world is too often secondhand. Excessive consumption of trash media really distorts your perspective and confines your imagination. You are right to indict it, but what are you going to do about it? Couldn't you, at any point, choose differently rather than behave helplessly? Couldn't you put down the devices and go spend more time living a real life in the flesh-and-blood world?
If you choose not to, despite knowing that you should, then it is a problem of underdeveloped Ne+Fe. Don't you find it odd that there are millions of people in this world doing fascinating things that really matter, but you seem to fixate only on the people doing small things you don't like? Doesn't this fixation conveniently confirm your faulty belief that there's nothing good out there for you?
Ultimately, whether or not other people are finding meaning in their activities is their business and irrelevant to your journey, so rambling about it is a pointless distraction. Nobody is forcing you to copy anyone. Your job is to explore and discover a path that suits your unique needs.
Would you rather waste time basking in your critical judgments of the world's problems, or would you rather spend that time actually being out in the world finding opportunities to put yourself to good use in addressing those problems? In other words, do you choose the "benefits" of loop and grip, or do you choose to do the difficult work of forging a real connection to the world? You claim to have done some Ne work, but did it connect you to the world in any substantial way? If not, you've not been on the right track.
8 notes · View notes
acourtofthought · 9 months ago
Note
How would you feel if ACOTAR 5 is gwynriel instead of elucien? In one of SJM interviews she stated that after finishing acotar5 she will be working on the 1st book of a different series. So that means acotar6 will come out 2027.
Disappointed. I think there gets to be a point where an author drags out a particular storyline too long (the Blood and Ash series come to mind) and the writing suffers as a result.
Vassa was taken in ACOMAF, we found out by who in ACOWAR and that she as well as the other girls at the lake have been cursed / kidnapped by Koschei. In ACOFAS we're told her freedom will come to an end and reminded of that in ACOSF.
Spring was destroyed in ACOWAR and in ACOFAS, we're told Tamlin is severely depressed but that they'll still need Spring as an ally. SF shows it's been awhile and Tamlin isn't getting better, that they know they need a strong ally in Springs army.
Elucien's bond snapped in ACOMAF, Elain was turned fae and in ACOWAR she lost her father, stabbed a man, was rejected by Graysen, fought with her sister in SF and was rejected by Az yet we've not once been given her inner thoughts of all she's experienced. We don't even see any of the main characters trying to talk to her about any of those things.
And Lucien, the list is too long to include on all his unresolved plots.
Having Nesta's story told first made sense to me because there was never going to be Elucien progress until Nesta began letting go of her protectiveness over Elain, to accept the idea of Lucien (and technically, Nessian's bond was hinted at before Elucien's bond snapped).
Her healing arc was important to Feyre and Elain's stories too (along with herself of course) however it wasn't very plot heavy. But there was no moving forward for anyone until Nesta's anger wasn't destroying everything in Nesta's path. The series, since book 2, has been as much about the sisters relationship to one another as plot and romance and closing that out before moving into a new era makes sense to me.
But Az having his story before Elain and Lucien doesn't seem to fit especially when a Gwynriel romance would probably need at least 6 - 9 months (meaning that almost another year would go by before we even start getting resolution to the above).
I'm not sure that I see anything in his story that is necessary to lead us into the Koschei storyline.
He wasn't in Feyre's "Let's help one sister before helping the other" speech, he wasn't part of Feyre's "I want them all to be happy" speech in ACOFAS.
To me the Illyrians aren't a bigger concern to their entire world than Vallahan setting their sights on the humans or Beron trying to ally with Koschei or how an entire court is now being neglected by its High Lord.
Dragging out Vassa, Koschei, Lucien's father reveal, the Elucien bond, the girls who were kidnapped, Spring, Elain healing from her trauma while she continues to remain in a court she doesn't truly belong just so Az can have his story which doesn't fit in to any of those things does not make any sense to me and honestly, I think it sends a weird message.
Tumblr media
"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her"
"I'll defeat him with little effort"
"I know, I helped rescue Elain after all"
"There is a darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to"
"She has no interest in him anyway"
Az (no offense) is kind of a dick at times outside of the priestesses.
He makes Mor so uneasy with his behavior that she feels like she needs to lie about what she's doing so he doesn't brood.
He is jealous and bitter towards Lucien and speaks for Elain without ever acknowledging her bravery and strength.
He gives off Tamlin vibes at times and to me that means he needs to be on a time out for a bit. Where he has to really sit and think on why his behaviors were wrong, why he tried to keep Mor and Elain small so he could be the hero, why he had such issues with a guy who is a very decent person.
Giving him a HEA after he treated them like that while Mor still remains unlucky in love, Lucien is struggling, Elain has no found family, it feels like jumping over an important lesson for Az to learn so he can become worthy of Gwyn. Not just in who he is when around her but who he is on his own.
I think Az seeing them happy and actually being happy for them is an important arc for his character.
But, in the end that's just my perception of the situation.
I don't know how SJM thinks, what her plan is, and if Elucien is not next than there's not much I can do but wait!
45 notes · View notes
mc-critical · 1 month ago
Text
Along with how her immediate reactions differ each time, Mahidevran's changing feelings on Hürrem's pregnancies (and how that informs her overall progression) show through her going from "I hope you die in childbirth" in E06, to "I hope she suffocates" in E11, to "Allah, you're almighty. Please, help us. Please, make her give birth to a girl" in E17, to "How do you know it'll be a son?" in E25, to, finally, "Congratulations for the newborn prince Cihangir, Hürrem Sultan" in E46.
Mahidevran says the E06 words directly to Hürrem as a retort which ends a confrontation between them in front of Nigar and the concubines where Mahidevran projects unshakeable, sure power after several consecutive losses (that involve pregnancies) in order to negate Hürrem's own attempts at projecting power through demanding better, "worthier" fabrics. Mahidevran's general display of confident security in her position is allowed to linger in most of the first third of the episode, with more contemplative calmness/happiness replacing the bitterness that was accumulated and let out here, but then the projection turns out too fraught of a facade that breaks the second it's challenged in any way and Mahidevran immediately resorts to venom and/or rash actions, like the poison, and/or words, like in this confrontation itself. Hürrem's presence in her life keeps being a recent occurance she won't get used to and her disdain for her is at its rawest and most personal point: she's still reeling from losing her love and losing her child, so she wishes for Hürrem to perish (her laser-focus on the apparent cumulative source of all the problems and her belief that she can still get her old life back if Hürrem simply disappears) and for her to suffer the same way Mahidevran suffered by losing her child as well, it turns out, which is the first time this theme of Mahidevran's dynamic with Hürrem emerges. Her words are vile, but they are put in a new light when we consider that Hürrem got pregnant this soon after Mahidevran lost her own child. It's like the pregnancy Mahidevran wanted so much is almost given to Hürrem instead - she faints after she learns about it just like she fainted after she saw the ring on Hürrem's finger - and when Hürrem brings up the possibility of having not just a son but many sons when Mahidevran's apparently struggled to even conceive at all after Mustafa (E04), she's brought to a spiral; all she can really do is bitterly retort by wishing death. It hurts and it hurts too much to bear, too much to even believe: that can't be, Hürrem has to lie to escape her upcoming marriage, all this can't happen with such a speed and such brutality, fate can't be that cruel, right? Accepting Hürrem being pregnant, accepting Mehmet's existence, another prince's existence (Hürrem becoming completely equal to Mahidevran and Mustafa, thus all the more possibly replacing them), is not just the biggest indication of Hürrem gaining Süleiman's favor yet and her (and Mustafa) getting further away from that on both a personal and massive front, it's more than anything a part of Mahidevran (and even Mustafa) processing the grief for the lost child, especially given what she says in E07: "Am I to celebrate with the Russian slave while I'm grieving with my son?". And she barely processes it, unable to hide her pain. She barely arrives at the ceremony of his birth that she has to be present for, but how can she?
Mahidevran says the E11 words to Gülşah in a personal moment in her chambers at a point where she is allowed to have more such personal moments in the first place. She has gone through many different states in this string of episodes instead of the sorrow - happiness - sorrow throughline from the end of E05 to the entirety of E06: gathering herself a little, regaining her strength after the past events; supporting others in their bad times; reaching a glimmer of hope in her E09 scene with Süleiman; the news of Hürrem's pregnancy being the sorrow after some breathers instead of a yet another drop in the full cup of subsequent losses; and getting consecutive victories, not losses afterwards (Süleiman yelling at Hürrem after the fire and letting Mahidevran kiss his head before he leaves for Rhodes), albeit with some possible scenarios of losses cropping up (but these losses aren't just hers). All of this shows even in the different reactions she has to the pregnancy itself: there's a similar bitterness to last time in "I hope she suffocates" but it emerges rather at the heat of the moment (right when Hürrem gives birth) instead of in a casual confrontation (but the pregnancy itself is revealed in a casual confrontation that also includes choosing fabric), and after her startled almost resignation in that aforementioned casual confrontation, her now clear upset after she gets out of the room and overhears Hürrem and her attempt at acceptance while helping Mustafa accept that he may indeed have another sibling. It's like she's given a little more time to get used to Hürrem's pregnancy or at least not ponder on it that much after so much else is happening around her. She doesn't really process it, but she tries to each time it comes up. Hürrem's existence; her being there beside SS, beside everyone is starting to sink in. She may not just actually give birth to a child, but may also give birth to another prince, she may and will even keep giving birth (as she tells Gülşah). Hürrem has already taken a solid place in Süleiman's heart and Mahidevran (and Mustafa) has already fallen, no matter how much it hurts. But as it still hurts, as it still remains painful, there's still the want for Hürrem to just perish, for her to not make it this time after she constantly seems to have made it up until now, for them all to be at peace. The possible death of the child, though, isn't uttered and wished upon this time. Mahidevran's already prepared for its existence in a way. And the agonizing wait for the outcome of Hürrem's birth even ends with relief Mahi is eager to celebrate demostrably yet from a distance (treating the harem with sweets; the concubines get the sweets separately, while she and Mustafa eat with Valide), even though there isn't a naming ceremony this time as SS is absent (and Mahidevran brings Hürrem's E06 retort about her having more/only princes back at her).
Mahidevran says the E17 words to Gülşah again, but now it's next to more people, royal family and servants alike, during times of happiness, a wedding of a friend and ally that she herself has shown joy and enthusiasm about previously, but can't entirely join in as it actually happens. It's definitely a matter of more signs of Süleiman and Hürrem's relationship being entirely solidified appearing in rapid succession after Hürrem was supposedly gone for good (she actually got exiled here unlike in E05 where her marriage was all but immediately thwarted), but what makes the wound bleed is the recent supposed rumor of pregnancy Mahidevran herself went through. Just like Hü was brought back by one of Mahi's allies (Ibrahim), the rumor was spread by her closest servant (Gülşah), so Mahi goes through both a disillusionment of her closest people and an echo of the hardest reality she's had to face - the most devastating tragedy she's experienced so far. It's like everything repeats again. Last time she was pregnant and lost her child, this time she's assumed pregnant but she knows the truth: she doesn't have a child, she doesn't believe even in the possibility of a pregnancy anymore. How can she be pregnant when SS invited her to her chambers several times, but didn't even touch her? How can she be pregnant when it's so hard for her to conceive anyway, let alone with that hurdle in mind? How can she be pregnant when she's only had constant disappointments for years? Her child is gone, she can no longer have a child. Her enduring the check of the midwife again, Hürrem becoming pregnant instead again, is Mahidevran having to once again feel the pain of that loss so close. And like last time, she could barely share it with anyone; not due to what she did afterwards (and Süleiman being an absolute dick), but worse yet, due to everyone telling her to suck it up, preventing her from talking about any of the grievances of her 'private life'. With the resentment she gains for that and what she could share however, Mahidevran actually ends up having her grief for her lost child move along. She fully reveals her resentment of how they all should have boys in order to be considered human in the castle, of how they all even have to give birth in general, and gains bitter acceptance of it. She doesn't just accept these circumstances, she accepts Hürrem's pregnancy. She doesn't hope for either her or the child to die, she actually hopes for her to give birth but to a girl instead. She allows herself to lean on that hope, as it's already happened before. She turns to Allah again, as since her prayers were fulfilled before, they can be fulfilled once more. She can be blessed once more. Hürrem's pregnancy can't be avoided, Hürrem will survive, a child will certainly be born, but let's cling to the likeability of what would be the safer outcome, the lesser evil. And even though Selim, a prince again, is born, Mahidevran keeps on with her bitter acceptance and even makes direct steps to show it, actively concealing the pain underneath. She has to act by the rules, so she does exactly that, even giving something of herself too during the naming ceremony (the amulet). Because both her "Allah, you're almighty. Please, help us. Please, make her give birth to a girl" words and her actions afterwards show her growing belief of supreme justice. Hürrem may continue her rise, but it will get better for Mahidevran sooner or later, justice will prevail. And a huge part of that is Mustafa having grown up just a little more. It all goes from "Do you think giving birth to a boy is enough? You can give birth to five, if you wish." in E08 where Mahidevran latches onto her haseki position to process Mehmet's birth (while demanding the necessary respect Hürrem has to give her), to "Don't get too excited for your second son. What matters is which prince is the heir to the throne." in E17 where Mahidevran latches onto her position as Mustafa's sole mother. What will happen next remains unclear, but it's certainly Mustafa that has the bigger advantage.
Mahidevran mutters the E25 words to herself, a new element alongside all the callbacks the line and the context around it provide: it's said around both royal family and servants like in E17, even more of them attending in fact, during the commotion while Hürrem gives birth like in E11 and, most notably, "How do you know it'll be a son?" is a direct reference to the exact confrontation with Hürrem where Mahidevran utters her E06 words in, words that are a response of Hü's to that exact same question Mahi poses in E25, only asked in a less biting, more genuinely astounded manner (more "how do you even know what's going to happen when everything around here is so uncertain, when I lost my child when I was just pregnant?" and less of the "why are you so sure; don't be so sure, don't be so arrogant, for you'll fall as quick as you rose" theme that comes up more from S02A-onwards). She again has gotten a bit of a breather after a recent panic (Gülşah stabbing Gülnihal) is not just dealt with, but seemingly about to be forgotten (both by the characters and the narrative) as she let out all her possible frustration and anger and outright dread right there and managed to convince everyone that she has nothing to do with any of it regardless - there's also a bigger distance between the sorrow and the pregnancy news than ever before - so after a much larger matter just passed her by, Hürrem's pregnancy isn't such a blow anymore. But it still wouldn't be otherwise, as it is already expected. She got pregnant so many times already, how is it a surprise that she is pregnant again?? Of course she is pregnant again, how can she not be?? (why does she even announce something so obvious?) It's not about Hürrem or her child being gone anymore, it's just all about whether will Hürrem have a boy or a girl. Mahidevran doesn't want another boy and doesn't want Hürrem to be so sure of having a boy either, as all two scenarios have already turned out possible (and both Mahi and Hü have seen that for themselves). She says the line in an offhanded manner just like her E24 reaction was more offhanded (her half-smirk was clear enough), witnessing everything from the sides and brazenly commenting on it to herself at the moment instead of needing and taking her time to come to terms with it. And Mahidevran is willing to distance from Hürrem (she isn't that focused on Bayezid's naming ceremony, either), not wanting to do anything unprompted, waiting to take advantage of when Hürrem fails and act only then (E16-E23; S02A) as much as she's distanced (or rather fully removed) Hürrem from her past loss of a child, seen in the full-circle moment in E26 where she apparently recognizes that she lost her child entirely because of sorrow and agrees with Valide's words to console Hatice about her own worry of losing a child yet again. Mahidevran's procession of her grief seems to be at its steadiest: she can still hardly talk about her lost child, seeing Süleiman pay attention to Hürrem's children before he leaves for campaigns and after he returns in S02A still hurts, but she has Mustafa now. And he'll become more and more accomplished and make his mother proud - he will even come with Süleiman in the campaign (another sign of further growth) a while after Bayezid's birth (he'll return before the campaign is over, but that's besides the point, as we also have Mustafa as the focus of Mahidevran and Süleiman's interactions which fuel her hope throughout S02A).
Mahidevran says the E46 words directly to Hürrem again but they're not aimed only at her; due to the very nature of their confrontation here, Mahidevran has to say them for all to hear. She's fully settled down after she went through her biggest sorrow as SS's haseki (him marrying Hürrem) and she's had to live with a new status quo that included only her and her son for quite some time now. She's just returned to Topkapi, so she hasn't even been around during the entirety of Hürrem's pregnancy and birth. And even if there's been something to process, she's processed it in Edirne, away from the audience's eyes (just like only a blip from Hürrem's pregnancy with Cihangir is seen during the timeskip montage: it's all ceased to be an event not just for Mahi, but even for us, the audience. and Cihangir's birth being portrayed as so leeway and usual makes the later revelation of his hunchback all the more devastating). She congratulates Hürrem after taking a long breath, she mentions Cihangir by title and by name, fully acknowledging that he is a prince, that he exists. She's completely able to live with that now. And there's confidence in her words that underlines the confidence she's developed in Edirne, next to her son, the confidence she has in that very moment, as this confrontation happens during Mustafa's oath ceremony, during her son's event, her event. Now they are at the center stage in what's basically a celebration of how far they've both come. Mahidevran owns the room and believes in her own capabilities now, believes in her son's future more than ever before (as he's now fully grown), so no one would stand there and threaten it, let alone a little şehzade (the other şehzades might, but that doesn't matter now). Hürrem also isn't such a personal threat in the same way she once was (as Mahidevran already fell out of love with SS): both still have history, there's still 'awkwardness' between them in this confrontation, and Mahidevran will still be keen on eliminating her (her involvement in the cariye riot orchestrated by Hafsa in E47) and protecting her son from her at all costs (the Efsun debacle and all else), but while Hürrem's position is obvious and sealed, so is Mahidevran's now. Thus Mahidevran finally adresses her as "Hürrem Sultan". From the "you" in E06 where she often didn't mention her by name at all and didn't want to be reminded of her name by anyone else either, using the "you" to clap back, towering above her; to the "shes" in E11 and E17 where Mahi puts distance between herself and Hü, hoping for Hü to become less of a threat, "become more distant" too (by either perishing or giving birth to a girl), acknowledging her as someone who's there but she still struggles to accept her - it's almost like when Mahi utters the "shes", it's so obvious who she's referring to as she both points to her and obscures her through them; to the other "you" in E25 that signifies even further distance as Hürrem seemingly can't distance herself from Mahidevran but Mahidevran has distanced herself from her instead, yet Hü is still "Hürrem Hatun" to Mahi (even in E43-E45) and that facilitates the "you", Mahidevran gets to Hürrem's level but Hürrem isn't on Mahidevran's; to the furthest distance in "Hürrem Sultan" in E46 where she adresses her more formally than ever but by both her name and real title and she'll pretty much continue to do so as Hürrem's position lays there, unchanged but Mahidevran's position has changed (something she had to grapple with in E45, also wanting to change her position to be like Hürrem's but then embracing the change of her own position instead). Hürrem has gotten as far as she possibly could as a haseki, so that should be recognized, but Mahidevran can go further as a future valide, further than Hürrem. Besides, anything can happen: as change hit Mahidevran, it'll hit Hürrem too eventually (hence she can even fall from her position as SS's one and only as well: E61) and Mahidevran will benefit this time.
The new stage of Mahidevran's life is also put forth by Hürrem's response: "... I'd say the same to you but God willing, you'll take care of Mustafa's babies now. Being a grandmother will suit you". This was surely a hit to Mahidevran as she got a little put aback (while keeping her demeanor) and lost in thought before Hafsa switched the topic (though I don't think Hürrem said it to offend), this too was probably another small reminder of what she's lost, including the chance to bear any more children. But maybe that's also why she latched onto her grandchildren, onto Nergisşah so much, demanding utmost care for them, giving them her love perhaps as the children she never had, and why letting Nergisşah go in E129 gets even more painful in retrospect than it already was. She parts not just with her closest person left, with the last trace of her family left, but also with her last child. And she lets her go herself.
10 notes · View notes