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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

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#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

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And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

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The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics.

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years ago

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Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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madamecricket · 3 years ago

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Fourth (and Final) Impressions of Deltarune Chapter 2

Edit: forgot to put a readmore. Forgive me! Spoilers under the cut!

- So I wasn’t even in the palace very long before we got to a series of puzzles that Berdly couldn’t solve, much to his frustration. I figured Berdly was building up to something, either a boss fight or a growth moment, and it was the second one. Turns out when you thrive off of praise, you develop a bit of a dependency... good on him to be self-aware.

- In the flashback sequence with the spelling bee, I noticed the word Noelle got nervous and stuck on - “December”. See, I remember another sequence in the city where we had a character moment with Noelle while pressing a series of switches that spelled out “December.” Clearly the word is significant to her in some way, and probably a negative way considering how it made her freeze up. Either something big happened in December, or something big happened involving a person close to her named December, since I remember her mentioning a “Dess”. I’m looking forward to where this goes.

- The theme in the Queen’s palace slaps, just gotta say that before we go further.

- So backtracking a bit, Lancer has been stone-ified, and Ralsei knows exactly what’s up: the dark fountains create worlds, the dark fountains that was sustaining Lancer’s world is gone, and that’s why Lancer is stone now. He’ll be fine, though, if we can get him back to Ralsei’s castle town and the fountain there. Good of him to offer a solution, except...

- ... hold the fuck up, Ralsei. So you’re telling me that this happened to Lancer because of the loss of his dark fountain - which Ralsei encouraged us to go through - and because of that, the Dark World that Lancer comes from is no more? And what’s more, Lancer now depends on the Castle Town fountain - that is, Ralsei’s fountain - to live. He is now life-bound to your town, Ralsei. He literally cannot leave you and still live, and even if he could, the world he knew is gone. Oh, but it’s ok, because you conveniently have a place for him to live under your roof now.

- And, hold on, who was it who told us we had to go through the Dark Fountain to get home?? I played through the first chapter just recently, that was you, Ralsei. I definitely remember Ralsei saying we had to do that, he gave us that quest in the first place, and I definitely do not remember him mentioning at any point that this would end with Lancer’s world being destroyed. This is absolutely not fine, Ralsei. Oh, and considering how conveniently us getting isekai’d in the library lines up with Ralsei suddenly insisting we had to go and do homework... Ralsei, are you the one isekai-ing us???

- *deep breath* Okay. I’m calling it now. There’s something Ralsei isn’t telling us. I joked earlier about how he wants to bake us into cakes and eat us, but to be clear, I think whatever’s going on here is more complicated than “Ralsei was the bad guy all along”. I get the feeling that Ralsei’s desire for friendship, especially towards Kris, is very genuine. It’s just... this whole situation is reminding me of Asriel’s deal in Undertale. Fitting considering the whole anagram situation... I wonder how Deltarune!Asriel is going to play into this.

- Okay, back to more current stuff in the game. I met up with Roulsx Kaard (idc how to spell it) again and he’s facing me in... the thrashing machine I made in the first chapter. I’m serious. Same color and everything, holy shit.

- behold the majesty

- COMETH FORTH, MY SQUEAKY DUCKY!!!

- ...whut?

- this is excellent. I’m going to die of excellent.

- ohh, now he’s gonna transform... aaaaand...

- oh. ... you know, I wondered when it was gonna catch up to him?

- ice cold, Ralsei. Ice cold.

- “Why don’t we close our eyes and imagine how she’s doing now” Just like last game... is Ralsei actually activating some kind of power when this happens?

- “I wish Dess could see this”? I knew it! I’m on to something!

- taking a moment to acknowledge the shipping energy in the air

- Noelle (paraphrased): “Where are we, anyway?” Me: say “Dark World” Susie: “You’re just having a dream” Again with Susie thwarting player intentions...

- .. a heart-covered Ferris Wheel. Okay, Toby Fox, we’re doing this now!

- Susie has a tail???

- BERDLY WHAT

- And again, we return from a Susie Sequence to Ralsei apparently explaining something to Kris and finishing with a variation of “so that’s why-” before getting cut off by Susie. What are you explaining, Ralsei.

- Checked a calendar in Noelle’s palace room. “Every page is the last month, every day is the 25th”... what??

- another banger of a final battle!! let’s do this!!!

- See, I had a feeling that the Queen didn’t actually want to hurt anybody, but she has a... funny... idea of what constitutes helping. It clicks with her being basically a personified search engine - she literally wants nothing more than to give people what they want and make them happy, but she’s not always great at figuring that out based on what they search. She mentions Noelle’s “sad and lonely searches”... Noelle, honey, are you ok?

- Excuse me, Queen, this Dark World was created *today*? ... And it was created by the Knight... and I already suspect that Ralsei is “isekai-ing” us... Ralsei, are you the knight?

- New important info: “Lightners” are apparently necessary to create Dark Fountains due to their determination, and unlike Undertale, determination isn’t exclusive to humans

- BERDLY!!! BERDLY IS PUTTING THAT REDEMPTION ARC TO GOOD USE!!!

- ...

... this game just became perfect

- Oh hey, White Diamond, what’s up?

- “Oh Damn I Did Not Know That” WELL NOW YOU TELL US, RALSEI!

- Susie doesn’t have a tail? Make up your mind, game!!!

- Phew. Okay. Okay. The actual game part is over. Time to process some thoughts...

- So we’ve seen two Dark Worlds so far, Lancer’s world based on games (cards, checkers, etc) and the Queen’s world based on computers and the internet. The running theme I notice so far is escapism. During her fight, the Queen monologued about a desire to fulfill the desires of people who turn to the internet to dull their pain or look for new distractions. And as for Lancer’s world... well, it’s implied to literally be made of abandoned toys. Both of them things people turn to when they need a little entertainment or escapism to avoid their real-life problems for a bit. And I think it’s been mentioned that Darkners are essentially made to serve Lightners; perhaps helping them cope with the difficulties of life?

Even putting aside the symbolism here, Susie and Kris literally escaped to this world to blow off their classwork, and Susie in particular seems to think the Dark World is better than anything in the Light World. In the final battle, Susie, Noelle, AND Berdly were all just about to open up a Dark Fountain themselves and make themselves better lives in the Dark World and only stopped when Ralsei very firmly informed them about the Roaring. Is this going to come up again? Are these kids going to struggle with the temptation to abandon their real lives to go play eternally in the Dark World?

And isn’t that just a perfect microcosm of the relationship that people have with video games in general - including this one? The perfect opportunity to just forget about your own life for a bit and temporarily live in a different world altogether, one with battles and magic and adventure?

Just what the fuck is going on here, Ralsei? Was I too quick to accuse him of being a secret villain earlier? Is Ralsei just trying to get us to process our shit in the Dark World, and then destroy it so we move on to the Light World with renewed hope in life? .. or is he just trying to make himself the center of our fantasies?

- HOLY SHIT THE QUEEN IS HERE! THE QUEEN IS HERE AND SHE’S GONNA BE A MOM FOR LANCER!!! (or “girldad” as Lancer puts it)

- ...have the Queen and King met? I mean, it would make sense, but they haven’t been mentioned as having a relationship of any kind or even knowing each other. Is this another Toriel/Asgore kind of situation?

- HOLY SHIT I KNEW IT SHE IS HIS MOM

- So I’m just talking to NPCs around Castle Town, right, and I meet up with Seam again. He just told me to be careful not to stay in there too late and that I don’t want to get caught when the sun goes down... DAFUQ YOU MEAN, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN???

- This is wonderful, I’m now witnessing Toriel and Sans having a joke-off in person.

- (Sees Kris going in to wash their hands) (Hears Toriel say “they do that sometimes”) ...so Kris has like... a condition? The heart-ripping thing has happened before?

- (Sees last thing before credits) ...okay then!!! I think that’s all the things I can get into one post, haha! Forgot to mention some things, but I can only type so much!!! Can’t wait to talk about this later, haha!!! (holy shit)

#deltarune #deltarune chapter two #deltarune spoilers #deltarune speculation

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Flowers: Assumptions

People make snap judgements all the time. About fictional characters as well as the people in their lives. It gets dangerous however when you assume your perception is the truth.

“Hello all you Fanders out there!” the voice over of DarkStarlight sounds through your speaker as the screen shows the title card of their series Fanders illustrated. The concept is simple enough. They talk about things from Thomas’ content or the fan community they liked while showing speeddraws based on it. It’s really fun to see.

“So a while ago I made this drawing based on the names we picked for the Prince’s nemesis.”

The image changes to a drawing of two versions of the character standing back to back. The dark, mischievious Marcus against a dark red background, and the awkward blushy Kevin against a lighter blue, the collors mixing to purple in the center.

“And the comments have been wild!” A blank canvas is shown as they start sketching.

“There were several theories about how these two boys could be one and the same.

The theory I want to draw today is a cute one. So CatPrincess suggested Marcus is an act Kevin puts up to help the prince. Kevin, according to her, is a staff member of the palace. And when the Prince got old enough to start looking for a princess, he needed an excuse, since he’s gay or just not really interested in romance. He never really was invested in any princesses in the vines after all. He’s had the most chemistry with males. Prince is gay confirmed.”

You chuckle. And shake your head. This fandom is wild. You just hope the characters can make a transition to youtube. It seems like Vine’s time is really coming to an end.

“Anyway, so whether the prince knows it or not CatPrincesss didn’t say, but Kevin ends up disguising himself as a villain so Prince can say he’s busy defending the realm and that he can’t pursue any Princesses until the villain is defeated. I really like the idea of Prince and Kevin having little inside jokes and grinning at each other secretly while Kevin tends to the family during dinner as they hear the king and queen complain about the villain. So. What do you think?”

And just like that the drawing is done. It’s Prince and a formally dressed Kevin glancing at each other with subtle smirks while behind them their silhouettes are crossing swords.

You like and share the video before checking in on tumblr, you still have some time to kill before dinner.

“I don’t see why we even bother still making vines every day. We’re finished, it’s over,” Virgil muttered as he paced the floor of the common area. He really hated being the barer of bad news, but no one was coming to terms with this simple fact.

“We have sworn to entertain the fanders, and it is not over until the fat lady sings,” Roman explained calmly from his spot, draped over the couch, pretending to be more interested in his notes for the ultimate storytime tour.

The announcement had taken the internet by storm and even Virgil was excited, though he never showed that to the others. He couldn’t leave his room for five days because he couldn’t stop ‘sparkling’ as Roman had come to call his excited look. Just in his head though, he was fairly sure Virgil wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What are we going to do after!?” Virgil insisted.

“We could look for a real job?” Logan suggested though he wasn’t very hopeful.

Virgil was nodding to himself, that was an option he supposed.

“We could make more scripted youtube video’s? People have been commenting they wished they could see more of our characters than six second skits?” Patton suggested.

“Brilliant idea Padre!” Roman exclaimed as he sat up and started skribling.

“We could make a series about the dad and teacher! Liam, Fiona and Gavin might like participating… Oh, and we could make marvelous stories about the prince… Idea!!!!”

He jumped up and made a gesture towards all of them. “We could make a series about us!” he declared proudly. “The fanders want to know more about Thomas, what better way to talk about that than by showing them who we are!?”

Patton was clapping excitedly while Logan and Virgil seemed apprehensive.

“Oh, that sounds so fun!!!” the fatherly side cheered.

“I don’t know,” Virgil objected. “It feels too exposed.”

“Indeed, we are a very personal part of Thomas. We should not be shown to the world so carelessly,” Logan agreed, mostly opposed to being displayed as a source of entertainment for others.

“We don’t have to go all in right away. Thomas can start with acting like our vine counterparts and see how the fanders react and if they like the idea we slowly but surely let our real selves shine through. Little steps,” Roman suggested.

Logan cocked his head. “That was, a very well thought out solution…” he admitted. It was odd. When had this started? Roman usually just spat out ideas and took any criticism as a personal offence. When did he start taking feedback into consideration?

Roman gasped and brought a hand to his heart in offence. “Don’t sound so surprised!” he huffed.

“I don’t know…” Virgil said slowly. The fanders liked his character… But that guy wasn’t literal anxiety.

Roman sighed dramatically. “Tell you what. I draft up some ideas. And after the tour we can revisit the subject. Vine won’t disappear overnight,” he reasoned.

Logan and Patton nodded in agreement. “Fine,” Virgil relented before pulling his hoodie over his head and stalking off.

Patton frowned. “He’s never happy is he?” he muttered sadly. Roman bit back his reaction. Patton was both wrong and right. This part of Virgil couldn’t be happy. But Roman knew of other parts that could be the happiest out of all of them. Happier than even Patton could ever hope being.

“Well who’s fault is that?” A voice drawled from the door opening. Roman automatically drew his sword while Patton and Logan reflexively moved to stand a little more behind him.

“Such a warm reception, I’m so touched,” Deceit said, hand on his heart, a sarcastic sting to his voice and a roll of his eyes.

"Well," Roman huffed as he put away his sword. "Maybe if you didn't apparate in dark corners for no good reason we wouldn't assume an attack was imminent. You are lucky you just missed anxiety, he might not have been able yo hold himself back." Realy what was that snake thinking?

"Thanks for the concern Roman, but other than you three, I know how to handle him."

Roman once more bit his tongue. Keeping his promise not to reveal their bond has never been so hard. This particular side was much more likely to catch him evading and omitting.

He rolled his eyes dramatically and crossed his arms in front of him. "Is there anything you needed Deceit?" Patton asked as he stepped forward laying a soothing hand on Roman's arm.

"Just checking in. And I must say I am not impressed. Morality I had hoped you'd put in a little more effort to make Anxiety comfortable up here. At this rate I might have to take him back with me." Roman could feel Patton cringe at that. That's it. Virgil's friend or not, Roman would not let him upset his family.

“Oh drop it scaleface. Empty threats will only go so far,” he said with a hand on his hip and a roll of his eye.

“Who says they’re empty?” Deceit drawled, studying his nails. “The whole reason Anxiety came up here was to reduce his stress, but if you all just keep making him unhappy, what is the point?” Deceit wondered calmly, though Roman could see there was a vague annoyed pull at his eyes. He clearly did not like being questioned.

“If he really was as unhappy as you imply, then why hasn’t he gone back to you and Remus who supposedly know how to ‘handle him’ so much better?” There was a mild flinch in Deceit’s posture, making Roman wondered if he accidently hit a nerve somehow.

“Just say what you came here for, Deceit. We all have other things to do.” Because deceit was rarely straightforward. Virgil hadn’t told him much about living down there, but that much he’d learned.

Janus just huffed and left.

“Charming as always!” Roman huffed as he combed his fingers through his hair.. He let out a sigh and dropped his hand before looking down at Patton.

“Are you alright Padre?” he wondered.

“I… Yes actually. Thank you Roman…” Roman wanted to bid the two bespectacled sides a good day and start writing on the new series and finish of his ideas for the tour, but the he noticed Patton was biting his lip nervously and so he waited.

“Do you really think… he’s not going to take Anxiety back is he?”

Roman smiled warmly down at Patton before turning to Logan. “Logan, could Thomas ‘forget about anxiety’ at this point?” he asked.

Logan cocked his head confused. “No, denying Anxiety is a part of Thomas, the way Thomas refused to acknowledge his presence in the past, is not possible. Deceit does not have the power to force such a change. Only if the three of us were to agree to it, could something like that be accomplished. And I do not intent to participate in such endeavor,” Logan stated. Patton relaxed at that.

“And I suppose I have gotten used to our war of wits. I shan’t permit him to leave until I reign victorious! Speaking of victory! I’m off writing a script so brilliant the fanders will demand more!”

And with that he finally did make his exit.

He returned to his room and immediately started on his projects. He was not sure what Deceit was trying to accomplish, but it would not deter him from his mission.

In the commons Logan has left as well and Patton his tidying up. Trying not to let Deceit’s words get to him… Who’s fault was it? His? Roman’s? Was there another thing he was missing?

At the border of the conscious mind Janus was beyond annoyed. It didn’t really matter. The idea of failure was planted, and if he knew the lights at all it’s that they would try harder to make Virgil feel comfortable, if only to prove him wrong. Virgil would not like that Janus had gotten involved, but he was worried. How couldn’t he be? Over the past few month’s Virgil had been acting off. Sure he was being more sociable, but after every interaction he was so rained he more or less disappeared. That was the only explanation Janus had for the times he’d visited to make sure he was alright and find the room empty. He hadn’t brought it up with Virgil, since doing so would most likely end up being more about him entering Virgil’s room without permission rather than an actual explanation.

And it didn’t really matter. Janus knew one thing with unwavering certainty.

If the lights didn’t get their act together, they might lose him.

Next: momceit

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #paper flowers au

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Reunion Job

leverage 3.02

Madavhi: All my work, erased, and I was only days away from cracking Manticore.

Nate: What's "Manticore"?

Madavhi: It's an electronic surveillance system. The Iranian government uses it to track protesters over cell phones, social networks, even e-mail.

Hardison: Yeah, hacker underground's flipping out about it. They use GPS to pinpoint a dissident, and then they swoop in and make the arrest.

Madavhi: The Internet made this protest possible, but now it's just a –

Nate: A liability? The government uses the people's weapon against them

- - - - -

Nate: "Cyrus"? It's "Mr. Madavhi." You can't get that attached.

Hardison: Fine. "Mr. Madavhi." He could go make a fortune working for Google or Microsoft. No, instead he risks his life fighting the bad guys. This is so our game.

Eliot (at the table behind them): He wasn't hit by the Vezarat. (comes around to sit with Hardison and Nate)

Nate: What, are you lurking?

Eliot: Yeah. I'm a lurker. It's my thing

- - - - -

eliot’s smile and raised eyebrows (x2) at hardison tho

+ he’s also wearing a red flannel with his leather jacket

- - - - -

Hardison: What's the Vezarat?

Eliot: That's the Iranian secret police. And trust me, if they wanted Cyrus, he wouldn't be sitting here talking to us.

Nate: But the Vezarat is still our logical target. So we should check our sources and see if there's a safe house in the area.

Hardison: So we're on this?

Nate: Yeah, well, we were always on this. I just wanted you to explain to me why. (gets up and heads for the Poker Room)

Hardison: You know how I feel about Mind games, Nate. Negatively. What are you looking at, lurker?

ELIOTS SMILE

- - - - -

Sophie: Eliot. Eliot, get rid of it. Ugh!

Eliot: (chuckling) I think he likes you.

Sophie (stands): You're gonna pay for this

eliot: mocks her

sophie: imma get back at you SO HARD and you’re never gonna see it coming

- - - - -

“That’s gonna cost ya” “I gotta dock ya”- hardison and eliot like a million times in this episode

- - - - -

Parker: At the East corner. (pushes vent out and enters the room) For a den of evil spies, this place smells delicious. Hardison, confiscate some pastries. (sits down at computer) Okay, no sign of Cyrus' hardware.

we love seeing parker in vents in her element + CONFISCATE PASTRIES FOR HER

- - - - -

Nate: Any of you ever trimmed a bonsai?

Eliot: Well, you know, I did. I was in Osaka, and I met this Japanese policewoman at a geisha bar....

- - - - -

Parker (to Sophie): Why is Eliot pouring your tea? Hmm? Did you brainwash him again?

Sophie: Mm, neurolinguistic programming. It's amazing what you can do with the power of suggestion. "Sugar." "Squeezed." a few strategic pats on the arm.

(Sophie pats Eliot on the arm and he pours her more tea, then realizes what Sophie has done)

Eliot: Damn it!

Sophie: You owe me for that roach business!

Eliot: Sophie, not again. (walks away)

okay but SHES DONE THIS TO HIM BEFORE LMFAO + a bonus parker and hardison laughing

also parker was eating a plate of pastries so that means thE BOYS GOT SOME FOR HER I LOVE IT

- - - - -

parker and hardison go into the office and be like 👀👀👀 wow he’s lonely

- - - - -

Eliot: Nobody else thinks it's weird that you can just buy anybody's yearbook online?

Hardison: You know, it's real cute, man, how you still believe in privacy

- - - - -

Nate: Here we go. Uh, Mrs. Zavransky, math teacher. Now, I bet if we turn to the cheerleaders... (turns page) Yes. Oh, Mandy. Mandy Babson.

Parker: What does the "DD" Mean?

Eliot: Yeah, right...

Nate: Seriously?

Hardison: Yeah, right. Two scoops of ice cream, just perfect.

she’s baby leave her alone

also bless hardison for not wanting to tarnish her

- - - - -

Parker: Aw, I feel bad for the nerd.

Eliot: Don't feel bad for this guy. Getting bullied in high school Is still no excuse for propping up dictators. He got bulled his whole high-school career. He's not criminal.

Sophie: Um...

Parker: Yeah, he is.

Sophie: Don't think about that.

Eliot: Not a bad criminal.

Hardison: Hey, what makes you think I got bullied in high school?

Eliot: Well, "A," You got a green hornet doll.

Hardison: Well, first of all, it's a limited-edition action figure. Second, it is green lantern. Educate yourself.

Eliot: Wow.

Hardison: Now pay attention. Get it right.

eliot “not a bad criminal” spencer knows that hardison is a good person with solid morals

also, eliot to some extent knows about hardison’s action figues which means that he has either seen them or hardison has told him specifically that he had them. this means that they have had, even if eliot seemed annoyed, some sort of conversations/hardison-talking-at-him-conversations and eliot LISTENED to a certain extend that he was able to recall this

- - - - -

Nate: Guys, wait, wait. Listen, listen. We got a locker combination, we have a teacher's name, and we have a crush. So, Duberman, he has made his old high school his Roman room.

Parker: Of course.

Nate: "Of course"? What's a Roman room? You have no idea, right? You know—

Parker: Nn.

Nate: You don't have any idea? It's a, it's a memory technique. Each of his passwords corresponds to an object in a space that he's intimately familiar with. In his case, the hallway of his old high school where he kept his locker. Now, if I were to make this bar my Roman room, everything I need to remember is right here. For instance, This, uh... My bank password would be "Balmoor." And my e- mail password would be Fitzy, here.

- - - - -

Parker: Hey. Nate just gave us his passwords.

Hardison: No, but I got all his passwords. You want to see his Netflix queue? He's got, like, every season of "Rockford files" every season of "Sex and the city," That show "Psych”.

chaotic children

- - - - -

Parker: You want to break into the high school? I could do that blindfolded. Yeah let's do it blindfolded.

HER HER HAVE FUN

- - - - -

Hardison: What do you know? Class of '85 has a reunion coming up in 8 months.

Nate: Hmm.

they all smile conspiratorially and eliot’s smile in specific gave me serotonin

- - - - -

(Parker sets up a video camera and walks past a board of photos)

Parker: So many awkward people in so many ugly outfits.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, you're lucky you never went to high school. Nothing but heartbreak and homework.

[High School Gym]

Parker: Didn't you go to your prom?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Uh...I was kind of busy.

[Flashback]

(a teenaged Hardison is sitting at a computer making a transfer from the Bank of Iceland)

Hardison: Looks like the Bank of Iceland's paying off Nana's medical bills. That's dope!

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Good times

- - - - -

Hardison: Besides, I'm sure you already had your high- school fun. Big man on campus. What, quarterback?

[Flashback]

Kid: Come on, Eliot. This is so lame. Quarterbacks do not take Home Ec.

Eliot: I got my reasons.

Kid: Phew! Let's get out of here.

Girl: Eliot, like this. (leans over Eliot, showing her cleavage) Knives are like people. It's all about the context.

[Exterior Dubertech]

Eliot: I had many interests

- - - - -

hardison getting too into the high school drama lmao

- - - - -

Hardison: Not exactly. (looking at information on monitors) She's a hired gun.

[Hallway]

Sophie: An assassin? Nikki’s an assassin?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, I guess we weren't the only ones with the bright idea to pose as alumni. This chick's connected to wet work jobs All up and down the East coast. Russian mob, Italian mob. There's a New Zealand mob?

her name is miranda miles *squints at the file on hardison’s computer* bruh no way she’s only 25 ??? they even give her height and weight but I guess that’s how all wanted files go

also in one of the commentaries didn’t they say that she was married to that other assassin ???

- - - - -

(a piece of door falls in and the Vezarat leader looks in)

Vezarat Leader: The health inspector?

Eliot: I'm gonna have to dock you again

LMFAO

also he’s wearing a grey flannel under his jacket

- - - - -

(Eliot knees the leader in the face, then pulls him up and punches him in the head. He turns to duck a blow from the other man and hits him in the head with one of Duberman’s chess trophies)

Eliot: Checkmate.

(Eliot throws the trophy down on the man. Behind him the leader stands up and cracks his neck)

Eliot: Or not.

he did the lil flip thing with the trophy

- - - - -

(Sophie hits Nikki in the head with the extinguisher and takes off her shoes)

Sophie: I always hated cheerleaders.

(Nikki swings several times and Sophie blocks each blow with the extinguisher, hurting Nikki’s wrist)

Sophie: It's mean girls like you that always ruined high school for the rest of us!

Nikki: What the hell are you talking about?

(Nikki kicks but Sophie moves to one side. Nikki tries to punch but Sophie blocks with the extinguisher. Sophie dodges a kick and hits Nikki in the head, then pushes her down and runs away. Nikki grabs her gun and fires after Sophie, missing her)

Nikki: Damn it

- - - - -

Nikki: Now, why would I do that?

(Parker walks forward and tasers Nikki in the neck)

Nikki: Ohh!

Nate: That's why.

(Nikki falls to the ground, convulsing. Parker grabs her legs and starts to pull her away)

Parker: Catering, what a business

we love to see parker tasering people

- - - - -

on today’s edition of things that aren’t weapons that eliot uses as weapons, our guy literally used one of the goons’ bodies to hit another goon and send them both down

what a king

- - - - -

Mandy: Your votes are in for the king and queen of the reunion! And the lucky winner is, Grace Peltz and Drake McIntyre!

Schmitty: Mac attack! Yeah!

(the crowd escorts Nate and Sophie forward)

Nate: Uh, very funny, Hardison.

Hardison: Oh, you think I did this? Naw, man, I don't rig elections. I mean, I could, but...

Sophie: Parker, Was this you?

Parker: (hanging upside down) I didn't even know they had kings and queens in high school

- - - - -

Hardison (looks up): May I have this dance, miss?

(Parker lowers herself on her line and they begin dancing)

Parker: So this is what high school was like, huh?

Hardison: Ah...Pretty much.

Eliot: Hello?

[Exterior Dubertech]

(Eliot walks out of the building as Sloane gets to his feet)

Eliot: Everybody having a good time at the dance? Anybody wonder if Eliot made it out?

(Eliot punches Sloan, who falls back into the bushes)

Eliot: Does anybody wonder if Eliot's alive? Hello?!

[High School Gym]

(the two couples continue to dance as the music plays)

🥰 parker’s feet not touching the floor 🥰

also aww poor eliot someone care about him pls

#leverage #leverage 3.02 #leverage 3x02 #the reunion job #leverage season 3 #season 3 #notable moments #mine

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it.

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’.

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'.

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there.

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else.

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice.

When he left us, everyone did.

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

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now.

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip.

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train.

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London.

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members.

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't.

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father.

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.”

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly.

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me.

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?”

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.”

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely.

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could.

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.”

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes.

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule. In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony.

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister.

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all.

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

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

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features.

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by.

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying.

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

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall.

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony.

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats.

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly.

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine.

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do.

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father.

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks.

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other.

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips.

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control.

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly.

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his.

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards, as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead.

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said.

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?”

“I do, sir.”

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked.

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

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

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible.

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

#prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryff #royalfanficcollection #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryfanfic #brf #fanfic #fanfiction #modern royalty fanfic #chapters #modern royalty au #im so excited about this story #but also like #really nervous #i missed this

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

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IOTA Reviews: Gang of Secrets

Well... I'll give this episode one thing. It's better than what we got from both “Truth” and “Lies”, and it did do one of the things I hoped the writers would tackle this season. That's not saying much, but I'll take what I can get.

Let's get into the fourth (chronologically the third) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Gang of Secrets

We start off right after an Akuma battle, and while Cat Noir is eager for their victory fist bump, Ladybug seems to be on edge, insisting that they go on patrol. Cat Noir thinks of a place that they can relax at without talking... and he chooses to take Ladybug to see a romantic comedy.

We're not even a minute in, people, and it already looks like Ladybug is considering using her authority as Guardian to take away Cat Noir's Miraculous.

Ladybug goes on a brief tangent summarizing what happened with Luka (which conveniently happens to reflect the events of the movie), and naturally isn't happy with the movie. Gee, it's almost like Cat Noir's plan was a bad idea. He seriously tries the whole “pretend to yawn as an excuse to put his arm around Ladybug” trick, so you can't tell me he didn't have romantic intentions here.

Why Kagami couldn't accept Adrien's “true self” is beyond me.

After storming out of the movie theater, Cat Noir tries to emphasize with Ladybug (key word being “tries”) by going on about how “he knows what a broken heart is like”. At least he didn't ask if she was single now. Ladybug decides to go for a swim, but we cut back to Marinette's house, with Ladybug in her aqua form, implying she went to the pool while still transformed. And here's a big problem with the episode. In theory, I like the idea of Marinette stressing over her new responsibilities, as it could lead to some interesting plotlines. The problem is that when we get something like that in this episode, it's played entirely for laughs. At one point, Alya mentions hearing Marinette crying in the bathroom because of the stress she's been going through. And instead of being a dramatic scene, she just runs out in some Groucho Marx glasses for some reason, because according to the writers, we're supposed to laugh at Marinette suffering from a potential mental breakdown.

This just raises several questions about the way we're supposed to treat Marinette's behavior in this episode. Are we supposed to take this seriously? Not completely, because of how a lot of the “jokes” in the first act of the episode revolve around Marinette's anxiety being driven up to eleven. Are we supposed to see all of this as a joke? Not completely, because the end of the episode is when the writers decide to take Marinette's inner demons seriously. It leads to a very conflicting picture the episode is trying to paint with the way Marintte's conflict is portrayed.

We then cut to what seems to be the only thing the writers like to do with this character now, Alya acting like has control over Marinette's love life.

Of course those are the only pictures Alya got of Marinette.

Uh... Alya? Honey? Have you even considered the fact that maybe Marinette didn't tell you about Luka because that's none of your damn business??? What gives you the right to know every single detail about your friend's life? I understand that you're a hardcore Adrienette shipper (and an unintentional metaphor for how obsessed the writers are with the Love Square), but why would Marinette be obligated to tell you about Luka?

I know that I asked Marinette if she told Alya about Luka in my “Truth” review, but that was because she continued to force the belief that Marinette still liked Adrien onto her. Yeah, I'm still confused as to why Marinette didn't tell Alya, but the difference is that I was more confused at her not explaining it, and felt it would have made the conflict in the New York special a lot easier. I don't think Marinette has to tell Alya, I just think it would make some things easier between them with how much Alya wants Adrienette to be canon. Marinette has no obligation to tell Alya anything about who she's dating. What goes on in someone's love life is a private matter, and we'll see that Alya has no regards for privacy.

Alya, along with Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix, devises a plan to give Marinette a friendship bracelet to show their support for her. And as usual, Alix has the simple idea to talk to Marinette about what's going on with her, and of course, she's ignored. Sorry, Alix, but this is an Alya episode, where smart choices don't fly here.

We cut back to Marinette's room where we get a pretty good scene where Marinette confides to Tikki about how she knows she has no chance of having a love life. She points out how she had to end things with Luka because of her secrets, and knows that even if she worked up the courage to talk to Adrien, she couldn't do anything because of the same secrets. She can't tell her parents or friends about her secrets and is forced to lie to everyone all the time. The voice actress gives a good performance, and the animators did a good job rendering the red eyes Marinette gets from crying.

And then we get back to the stupid stuff, where Marinette decides to transform into Ladybug and demands Hawkmoth (even though he's Shadowmoth at this point) show himself. This is really just an excuse for the Girl Squad to barge into Marinette's room, where Rose sees the dollhouse Marinette uses to hide the Miracle Ball. Marinette quickly runs back in and tries to hide the the Miracle Ball from her friends, who confront her about her “problem”.

No, real friends respect boundaries and don't demand to know every single detail about someone's life. They understand that there are secrets they don't have the right to know about. If Alya found out that Alix still needs to sleep with a nightlight and told everyone, would you really be surprised if she got mad at Alya for exposing this secret of hers? Right now, Marinette is clearly uncomfortable about telling her friends about a secret she has, and rather than understand she doesn't want to, they just keep pressing on, and don't care how unhappy she looks.

Unsurprisingly, Marinette tells them all to get out, saying she doesn't want them as friends anymore. Okay, so we're in every salt fic ever written now. Again, we get a good scene where Marinette feels remorseful for what she said (as understandable as it was), while the girls leave with their heads down.

Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma for the friendship bracelet, and because the object had personal meaning to all of them, Alya, Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix all get akumatized into their previous Akuma forms, Lady Wifi, Reflekta (yet again), Princess Fragrance, Horrificator, and Timebreaker respectively. Shadowmoth calls them the “Gang of Secrets”. But they were akumatized because of secrets. Wouldn't a more accurate name be something like “The Honesty Brigate” or “Truth Troop?”

When I reviewed “Felix”, I had talked about how the motivations for the three Punishers weren't didn't reflect their Akuma forms, which were twisted versions of what they were feeling like at the time. While the same thing applies here (as well as “Heroes' Day”, now that I think about it, though I always thought it was like a drawback to Scarletmoth's powers), the titular Gang of Secrets is actually a pretty good lineup.

I think my main problem in “Felix” is that we didn't get to see the three Akumas working together much because the writers were trying to prioritize Felix as the primary threat of the episode and failed miserably. Here, we get to see a lot of interesting combos and strategies I never really thought about. Lady Wifi uses her powers to freeze some civilians while Timebreaker skates by and absorbs their energy for her skates. Reflekta zaps some other civilians while Princess Fragrance sprays them with her perfume to brainwash them into looking for Marinette, even if it’s the only time this episode that we get to hear “At your service, Princess Fragrance~!”. Horrificator intentionally goes around scaring people while growing in size, acting as the muscle (even though she doesn't do anything in this episode). They all work surprisingly well together, acting like Ladybug and Cat Noir's own Sinister Six.

After making a new safe to hide the Miracle Ball, Lady Wifi breaks into Marinette's room again, so Trixx, the Fox Kwami, uses his power to create a mirage to distract her. But like when Plagg used his Cataclysm in “Style Queen”, it has a little drawback.

The funny thing is that this doesn't even crack the top 5 in terms of weirdest things to happen to the Eiffel Tower in this show.

We cut to Adrien's room so the show can remind the audience he exists before he transforms into Cat Noir. The two don't meet up in person, but Ladybug tells Cat Noir to keep Timebreaker busy so she doesn't travel back in time while Ladybug goes after Lady Wifi. Of course, she doesn't have the friendship bracelet, but that wasn't Ladybug's plan in the first place.

Her actual plan is talking to Lady Wifi in an attempt to get Alya to break free of Shadowmoth's control. It's short, but it's a nice scene, with Ladybug explaining to Alya that even though they can't know everything about each other, they're still friends. So against all odds, Alya manages to reject the bond with Shadowmoth.

Oh yeah, it's not like we saw Chloe reject an Akuma in “Miraculer”, right? And Chrismaster giving up his akumatized object for Ladybug to purify? That didn't count either. Alya is clearly the first person to ever do this, and this is why you should immediately accept what happens later on.

Alya tells Ladybug where the Akuma is, and in response, Ladybug gives Alya the Fox Miraculous, which she uses to transform into Rena Rouge... even though she was already benched in “Feast” for endangering herself by uploading a video about the history of the Guardians to the internet, just like how Queen Bee and Ryuko were benched earlier for similar reasons, and the latter only appeared again because Ladybug wanted to get Kagami away from Adrien. Because I guess we're just going to ignore one of the biggest plotpoints of “Miracle Queen” now.

The other Akumas have Cat Noir at their mercy, so Rena Rouge uses her Mirage to create an illusion of Marinette to distract them. Timebreaker goes off to chase the illusion, and while Horrificator, Princess Fragrance, and Reflekta are about to take Ladybug's Miraculous, Rena Rouge and Cat Noir are the ones to break the object. Overall, a really clever climax to the episode.

So after Alya returns her Miraculous to Ladybug, we cut back to Marinette apologizing to her friends, who never apologize for invading her privacy. And while she mentions Luka, Marinette suddenly talks about how hard is to confess her feelings for Adrien, something that was never mentioned in this episode, because the writers are desperately trying to encourage the audience to ship the Love Square again brutally shooting down Lukanette and Adrigami. And after all this, Alya goes back up after everyone else leaves because she can just tell Marinette has another secret. How does she know this?

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Okay, fine, Alya can be supportive of Marinette, and even her worst moments like the New York special were motivated by what she thought would make Marinette happy. A little misguided, and yeah, her teasing can be annoying at times, but she's ultimately there to help push Marinette to be honest with her feelings. “Reporter” is stretching it a little. No matter what the show likes to say, Alya isn't a good reporter. She barely verifies her sources and just posts things online. I'm sorry, but the Ladyblog is basically the superhero equivalent to TMZ. Alya probably doesn't even know who Joseph Pulitzer or Edward R. Murrow are, because rather than reporting the news to the public, she just wants to find things that will get her clicks on her website. Alya's biggest flaw as a character is that she is incredibly impulsive, but like everything else in the show, this flaw is never acknowledged, and is basically rewarded. Why do I say that? Well...

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this scene. On the one hand, it's very well acted, and the interaction genuinely highlights Marinette and Alya's friendship. Before she tells Alya, Marinette is just opening her heart out to her friend, and the grievances are played completely seriously. Even the reaction Alya gives when she finds out is very subdued, simply showing her shocked face before she gives Marinette a hug, with no dialogue. It's a very profound moment, and it's arguably one of the best in the entire series. Even the ending card doesn't show an action scene, but rather, it continues to focus on the hug while the Kwamis watch.

And thankfully, the episode doesn't end with the standard upbeat “Duh dun dun dun dunnnn, DA DA DA DA~!” track that almost every episode, no matter how depressing, usually ends with. It's just a really great moment, and a good way to end the episode... on its own.

When you think about previous episodes, like what I've mentioned with Alya, it's just strange that despite all the times she has shown herself to be bad at keeping secrets (like the aforementioned scene in “Feast”, posting a picture of her and Cat Noir kissing on the Ladyblog without her consent, and invading her privacy in this very episode, demanding to know her secrets), Marinette suddenly decides to give Alya a chance. Even worse, she had just said that she wasn't going to force her to tell her anything, which seemed like a strong character moment for her, but then the writers go back on the lesson and have Marinette do what Alya was trying to do the whole episode and tell her she's Ladybug.

Sure, Ladybug told Alya she was the Guardian and to keep it a secret earlier, but this lesson in keeping secrets should have stuck when she first became Rena Rouge in Season 2. I don't have a problem with Alya being Marinette's confidant (lord knows she needs one at this point), but I just don't think Alya is ready for this. It's the same thing with what happened with Adrien in “Syren”, by saying him immaturely threatening to quit being Cat Noir because of Ladybug's secrets was meant to show how he was ready to meet Master Fu even though it showed how selfish he was and was anything but ready. How is an episode where Alya tries to force Marinette into telling her everything she's keeping a secret meant to show she's ready to learn Ladybug's identity. Maybe if this episode kickstarted a character arc for Alya where she learned about why people keep secrets and that getting the truth isn't the right thing to do, culminating in a later episode where Alya learns Ladybug's identity, I'd be fine with that. As it is, this just had some poor timing and was the result of the writers not really thinking this through.

I guess I'm still interested to see where this goes, and how Marinette and Alya's friendship will change as a result of this. Maybe Alya can help Marinette get away to transform, or worry about her safety after an Akuma fight. Although the worst case scenario is that if Cat Noir finds out about this, he'll use it as an excuse to bitch and moan about how Ladybug is still keeping secrets from him and of course, she'll be blamed for whatever happens as a result of that.

Though I can't help but feel like I'm forgetting to mention something. Wasn't there someone else who wanted to know the truth about Marinette?

OH YEAH, I FORGOT ABOUT HIM JUST LIKE THE WRITERS DID.

This is what really kills the episode for me, just how it goes back on everything established in “Truth”. The whole reason Marinette broke up with Luka in the first place (which motivated the conflict of this episode) was because she realized keeping secrets from him wouldn't lead to a healthy relationship. As much as it pained her, it was a necessary evil Marinette had to do in order to protect her identity.

But now you're telling me that it's okay for Marinette to tell Alya her secret? WHY? How is this any different from what happened with Luka? Like Alya, Luka also wanted to known the truth, but the only difference was the way he confronted Marinette. He calmly asked her about what she was hiding, and even though she couldn't tell him, he respected her boundaries, and they both managed to end things on good terms.

Alya, who has a history of exposing secrets to the public, who barged into Marinette's room and demanded she tell her all of her secrets, is more trustworthy than Luka? This is why I don't buy the writers making Alya Marinette's confidant. I get that they want to give her some more story presence after how she had mostly faded into the background in Season 3, but this just isn't the way to do it.

Barring that, what did I think of the episode?

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Yeah, it's just... it's just okay at best, mediocre at worst. There were a handful of decent moments in the episode, and some creative action scenes. Even stuff like Cat Noir's forced movie date and Alya violating Marinette's privacy isn't anything new, and unlike other episodes, the latter actually seems to apologize for that. The problem, as I already stated, was the ending. I think maybe the ending could have worked if Alya had found out Marinette's identity, but decided to keep it a secret. That way, it would make for an interesting dynamic, with Alya learning to be more responsible while secretly helping come up with ways for Marinette to get away to transform.

But as it stands, the episode is alright, but mostly forgettable if not for the ridiculous ending.

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onisiondrama · 4 years ago

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(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

“I Figured Something Out” Sept 24, 2020 Speaks

- Says he likes to make videos pointing out his flaws because when he realizes he was doing something wrong, he likes to point it out and move on. You shouldn’t bottle things up. - Says when he started making these video he was angry and over time he winded down. - Begs his follower to look into the Regina / Adam thing. Says Regina pretended to be a transgender person named Adam. He says he was told this by a friend of someone he loves, by someone he loves, by a Hansen insider, and two other people who looked into it. They fabricated a person and a story. He says it’s gross. He says he doesn’t know exactly what was said because he doesn’t watch those videos. - Says he recently watched a beautiful, capable, smart women talk about cancel culture and drama. She’s a republican who doesn’t believe in the far right or left. Says most people go with the flow, but she’s an individual. He says he didn’t care there were things she said that he disagreed with because of the way she spoke. He says when he talks to people online, he has to remember you’re not that different. We all have feelings and people are less reasonable in your opinion if you don’t approach them reasonably. He says he is too harsh and mean in his videos, unlike the women. He understands you’re not supposed to sugarcoat the truth, but other people have feelings. - (People are after him because he hurt their feelings.) - Brings up Regina again. He says he doesn’t know what their problem is because he never talked to them. Says there’s sincere mental illness sprinkled around the internet and it’s proven if you put Regina and Adam side by side. He says he hasn’t watch the videos side by side, but he’s seen photos. He says he doesn’t know how this got past the filters and how people can be so negligent to the truth. He says that’s what happens when you let anyone on a show. People come on to troll or to project their issues. - He says people who watched him may have felt talked down to. He says he spoke like that because he felt like his audience turned on him before he had a chance to explain why it was all ridiculous. He felt it was unintelligent for people to assume it was the truth, but he was in a situation where he was threatened with divorce if he talked. He was stuck between being the bigger person and staying silent while he was building up frustration seeing what people were saying about him. - Says if the Regina and Adam thing is true, it’s the funniest disaster that ever occurred on social media. People were saying there’s all these victims and one of them turns out to be someone dressing up as a new person. It’s bad enough people can fake texts, but when you fake a whole person that’s another level of crazy. He says he almost feels blessed to be subjected to that level of comedy. He says it’s clinically insane for someone to do that with a straight face. He says he never even heard of Adam. - When his marriage was on the rocks because of cuddlegate, he told Billie he wanted to be alone. Billie tried to work it out with him. Says that’s evil step-mom, homewrecker stuff. [I’m pretty sure he’s talking about when he made the fake divorce video and she contacted him.] Says he had the opportunity to run away and abandon his family. He chose to stay because he doesn’t want to be that dad that choses his lustful side over his heart. He broke down crying at one point because he almost let down his family and he almost lost them. He didn’t talk to Billie for a few months after cuddlegate until Kai was like “uwu”. He says he told Kai it was a bad idea and it ended horribly. Says he’s done better than his dad and numerous other dads. - Says he doesn’t speak to people in his life as respectfully as he should. - Anyone in his shoes would be just as bitter and angry as he was. Some people wouldn’t even be alive. He lashed out because he didn’t get a fair chance. People won’t do a charity stream with him. - Once he told his full side in videos, people didn’t want to interview him anymore because he didn’t seem crazy anymore. - Says he was part of the mob against Chris Brown. He said he’s had people scream in his face and he didn’t do anything illegal to them. He called the cops on them. - (Patreon ban, he didn’t dox on purpose) - He says he wants to get rid of boob squeeze because it’s cringey to him. [thank god!]

“My Social Life- Before And After COVID” Sept 25, 2020, Speaks

- (Chris Hansen covid cure) - Says before COVID he stopped going out in public because people were taking picture of his children and posting them to the internet. An employee at Lowes and at Dairy Queen took photos of his children. He’s protective of them. A man [Hansen] showed up to his house when his kids were home. - He was thankful when COVID hit because people would stay away from him. He’s happy he has to wear a mask. He was wearing a different disguise in public before the masks. - (Kai threatened divorce if he spoke) - Says people’s emotions and mental illness cloud their memories. He conquered that when he was 17. A girl dumped him and he told her she was a monster. This was before people would seek clout so it was just between them. He says he supports her breaking up with him because they weren’t meant to be. - Seeing how crazy Seattle and society has gotten, he doesn’t want to be apart of it. - He was socially lynched without going to court. (Mike went to court) - COVID gave him on excuse to avoid everyone and family members. He says COVID is horrible and people have died, but for him it came at an interesting time. He compares it to when a kid bullied him really hard in elementary school and died in a sledding accident. Says some dude or chick in a truck hit the kid. He says another time a guy was bullying him hard and that guy died in a motorcycle accident. He gave his helmet to his girlfriend. He died a hero. He gave up his life for someone. He was handsome and had his life ahead of him. - Says according to his mother, his father got a women killed by not giving her a helmet. He kept it for himself. His father also allegedly slept with his cousin. His dad tried to sue him and failed. Three of his family member accused his father of being a predator. - A reporter interviewed his father and his father acted like a hero. - His mom is the one who left his dad. He says she didn’t have to fight for custody so there’s no motivation for her to lie. - (beat up his dad story) - Criminal experts will agree with him to follow the money in cases because money is the root of all evil. Like a news station that will make more money by making a monster instead of telling a true story. It is not profitable to tell both sides. - People like black and white stores, not stories where both people make mistakes. - He love isolation. He was covered in his father’s blood when he went to juvie. His white shirt was brown with dry blood. He was happy to be there because he was away from people and life was simpler. Everybody in there was flawed, which is better than being with his hypocrite god-loving father. Typical Seventh Day Adventist garbage. Greg says he was one as well. When he was 13 he prayed and told god he wanted nothing to do with him. Many amazing things happened to him after that. - Says you have a lot of drifters who came and destroyed someone consistent in you life, then they left. He was that consistent person. He was making hundreds of videos and entertaining thousands of people per video. Now he’s down to 900 to 3,000 views per video. They came, they destroyed, they left. They destroyed someone you connected with, had a real bond with. A lot of you cheered them on as they did this and then they left. Now you’re left with the same person, but he’s more broken. He believed in good people before, but now that he was dragged down into dirt, he has dirt in his eyes. He can’t see the sun or trees. He can just see dark and sadness. He still feels your spit on his face from when you millions of people beat him senseless socially. - He says he saw a legitimate news source says there was an FBI investigation about him. Says the FBI never contacted him. - Leafy recently suggested he should become an actor. He compares it to Kevin Spacey. Says it would be sad to lose a netflix show or a movie deal because of people saying things about you. He says imagine people who were going to be on that show with you stop talking to you because they don’t want to be dragged down with you. He’s glad he wasn’t that big when he fell because it would have hurt more. Now he gets to be a no one who knows who he really is when most people live in an alternate reality. - When he lost BillyTheFridge as a friend, he didn’t lose anything because Billy was a fake friend. Billy wanted to be a white knight. Joe and Anastasia were great friends and wanted to still talk to him. Billy later on realized James wasn’t as evil as he thought and invited him to lunch with them. Says he (James) backed out and decided to stop talking to all of them. He says it’s sad he lost Joe and Anastasia as friends, but he didn’t want to drag them into the drama and make their lives more miserable. Having friends was a burden and he didn’t want them to hurt. - (Regina / Adam) Dobs is barking. - He feels like this whole thing is a grand opportunity to look at things the way they are. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore and he doesn’t believe in friendships anymore. - He swears on his life he’s more honest than Sarah, Billie, and Shiloh.

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dotthings · 5 years ago

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15.06. A great wrong has been righted. Hope is allowed in this narrative. I hope Chuck is brooding in his brooding dark castle somewhere, gnashing his teeth and cursing the heroes like a proper villain.

The Dean and Cas breakup and Rowena’s death are in the “Then” so I knew this was going to be a doozy.

Excuse me, random witch I don’t know STOP TOUCHING QUEEN ROWENA’S THINGS THIS INSTANT STOP THAT.

Back in the bunker, Sam is not looking good. Tired, a bit damp-eyed haggard, and randomly cruising weird lore and stuff on the internet, like he’s throwing spaghetti at the wall, any lead, any hunt, just something, that will help them or keep him from feeling helpless. Jared was so great in this ep, showing Sam’s anxiety about Chuck, his ongoing sadness about Rowena, but also hope and joy because of Eileen, and my heart just aches.

Dean’s still stress eating, shoving dry cereal in his mouth and pretending to be cheery and marathoning Scooby Doo (comfort watching). He turns down going with Sam on the milk run and is hanging around in his bathrobe. This is a lot like Dean in S14 after being possessed by AU Michael. Anyone still think Dean has been perfectly okay since 15.03? LOLOLOL. Nor is this just because of finding out Chuck is still out there. Dean’s been stress eating and day drinking and trying to hide behind food pranking before they found out Chuck was back. He’s still reeling and avoiding his Cas feelings, which were complicated by the nihilism Dean feels because of Chuck, and now on top of that, they know that Chuck isn’t actually gone.

While Cas’s coping mechanism is to go fishing, something he says he learned from a friend is a way to find some peace. So Cas is getting away from his feelings by emulating the person causing the feelings he’s trying to avoid right now. Also note, in S11 Cas dealt with trauma by turtling in his room marathoning tv shows, which is also a Dean method of coping with trauma. We get to see Cas standing on his own, an autonomous and competent hunter, and that’s important, but Dean’s impact on Cas, his link with him, their similarities, doesn’t go away.

I really like we get to see Sam jogging. It’s one of those things, like sparring, we’re told happens and don’t get to see. Cas goes fishing, Dean hides out in his bathrobe eating sugary cereal watching Scooby Doo, Sam goes jogging. Everyone’s got their way of coping.

EILEEN!!! EILEEN IS A GHOST IT IS GHOST EILEEN HI EILEEN HI HI!!!!

So she’s been trying to get them to see her and Sam finally does. Little bit of a parallel back to S8 and Dean haunted by seeing Cas everywhere and Cas turns out to be real.

So Eileen needs help getting her soul into Heaven. I’m disappointed she actually really was killed instead of my theories because the way she was killed irritated me so much but I’m really happy that despite that actual narrative mistake where spn mis-stepped, her story isn’t over, this hole in my heart is healing wow thanks spn.

Dean seems weirdly okay with the idea of Sam as heir to Rowena’s magical lore and I honestly expected him to be more resistant but a lot has happened, characters grow, Dean cared about and trusted Rowena. So that’s interesting. He’s for it.

Sam’s sad face is just getting to me all over this episode.

“I need to find my son.” Cas’s sad sad face listening to this distraught parent. Of course he’s going to help her find her son. Of course he is. Of course his fishing trip is over. A hunt found him and of course he can’t turn his back on a parent who wants to save her child. What we see in this ep is Cas enacting what Sam and Dean have been saying about why they do what they do, even if things are miserable and it seems hopeless, but if they help others, that makes things better for the world.

Sam empathizing with Eileen about having been in Hell. Oh, my poor babies.

All right, Columbo, I mean “Agent Worley” is on the case. And the local law enforcement wants to check with his supervisor OH GOD OH GOD THE PHONE IS RINGING IN THE BUNKER DEAN IS ANSWERING IT

“He wants to talk to you” OH THAT’S FINE MY HEART JUST DROPPED TO MY TOES THAT’S COOL COOL COOL

“Sam’s been trying to call you...check your damn messages” and Dean checking on Cas and warning him about Chuck. Listen, I am Cas in this scene, Cas is me. Cas just LOSES IT and so did I. Dean, wtf, my dude, my pet, my love, my dumbass, it was your idea to alienate him, and *now* you’re telling him not to be a stranger, and warning him about the big bad that is a threat to them all, oh Dean, oh honey, you really do suck at being done with Cas, and Cas sucks at being done with you.

So Cas has a smol nervous breakdown because DEAN and rubs his hand hard over his face and can’t hold character as Agent Worley then pulls it together to maintain his cover.

I know, Cas, I know. Dean can be A LOT.

Sam finding Rowena’s journeys has got me all thinking about how Sam goes from blood relative legacy of John’s journal that Sam didn’t really choose but eventually appreciated as legacy to found family legacy of Rowena’s journal, a bond and a legacy Sam chose.

Sam telling Eileen what happened to Rowena OH MY HEART. This episode is a lot.

Eileen trying to comfort Sam and her ghostly hand goes right through him...and at the end of the ep they can touch. I WILL BE SHOUTING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE.

“Her magic. This is how she kept control.” Sam talks about how Rowena understood how the deck was stacked, Sam talks about Rowena in a way that shows how deeply he understood Rowena. *cries*

Sam wants to bring ghost Eileen back to flesh and blood life. *screaming internally*

Seeing Cas in researchy mode, helping others, giving others hope, being a competent autonomous hunter THIS IS SO GOOD.

Loved the way Sam and Eileen use sign in general. And Sam signing “my brother” to Eileen so she can get help for him as he’s captured by the witches.

Seems weirdly apt the actress who played Chuck’s publisher now plays one of the witches who kidnaps Sam.

We’ve often seen spn use toxic siblings as dark mirrors for Sam and Dean, cautionary notes and red flags. In this ep the toxic sibling mirror seems to allow to highlight the functionlity of Sam and Dean. The witch sister pranks that were malicious and harmful vs Winchester pranks that aren’t harmful, but done out of affection, and to lighten the strain they’re under from what they do.

Enjoyed these scenes with Melly and Cas as Melly talks about her son and how they fight but “we’ll get through.” Relevant familial stuff there, and applies for parents and kids, siblings, or, y’know, whatever pseudo-spousal thing Dean and Cas have going on. Cas also relates to Melly as someone who rejected their expected roles put on them by higher ups in the chain, and wanted something better. Free will.

Yes I so like that Cas gets a win in this ep. He finds the missing son, reunites a family. Melly and her son seem to take the whole supernatural being savior hero thing fairly calmly, considering. And this ep also reminds us, very clearly: Cas is a hero. Sam and Dean are not the only heroes of this story.

I enjoy badass Cas and Cas was an able hunter in this ep but he really is NOT okay. A simple clean kill would have been enough for this djinn, but the way he kept stabbing the monster over and over, splattered in blood that isn’t his own, he’s compensating or something. Cas looked anguished. Cas is dealing with a lot. Feeling rejected by Dean, losing the only family he has, and his anger at Chuck for messing with them all so severely. Cas went to the woods and the lake seeking peace and wound up covered in blood.

Hm, so Cas can heal the boy’s ankle but he struggles to use his grace, which seems to be spluttering like it’s low on fuel. Looks like those human Cas metas are still pointing in likely directions.

“If I stay nothing changes...it’s time for me to get back in the game.” Yes he could stay in the woods and the lake and fish and take the occasional hunt, and hide forever from the ones he still loves but doubts his place and hide from the urgent main fight. But he can’t. Back the game...is also coming home.

Ghost Eileen is a badass and saves Sam HELL YEAH. Rowena’s legacy, Dean racing in last minute, and ghost Eileen, all saved Sam in this ep.

“I learned from the best.” Sam using Rowena’s teaching to defeat the witches. There’s that legacy again.

The spell to restore ghost Eileen to flesh and blood involves a bath that seems ritualistic, with Sam performing the spell. I am NEVER getting over how Sam is shaking with emotion while he courteously keeps his back to her. Never ever ever. And then their hands...finally touching. Clasping each other. And Sam hugging damp Eileen. Sam’s FACE. Oh my god I’m never ever getting over this.

This is so hopeful and joyful and it still hurts, Sam has been through so much and he’s had so much pain, and since Eileen was introduced, she seemed to bring out a light in him that gave me a pang right here *taps chest*. We’re seeing it in this episode. OUCH OUCH MY HEART.

Eileen is a great character in her own right and I love her and disliked how she was killed off so so much and it helps so much that SPN did this and restored her, and Eileen and Sam together, just gets me. Right in the chest.

This last Sam and Dean scene. “I don’t know what’s God and what isn’t” says Dean. HELLO WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING AND SAYING ABOUT DEAN’S STATE OF MIND AND WHY HE’S ACTING THE WAY HE DID TOWARDS CAS.

“We’re the guys who break the rules.” WOW LOOK IT’S MY METAS ENACTED VIA DIALOGUE

Sam is basically taking my position—that while Chuck manipulates some events, he can’t control everything and they make their own choices and do the unpredictable things. While Dean is caught in the nihilism of believing everything was manipulated, almost nothing was real.

Just as I don’t think Chuck wanted Cas to come back in S13 and that was an unpredicted twist, I don’t think Eileen is back due to Chuck’s meddling. Eileen’s spirit sought out Sam and Dean, Rowena’s legacy, her unfinished spell for Mary, is what allows Sam to perform the ritual spell to restore Eileen. As Cas has been tied to Dean’s sense of hope, Eileen has been an immensely hopeful figure for Sam. I don’t think Chuck wants them to have this. Can’t be 100% sure, maybe he wants them to have their hope just so he can crush them even harder, but these relationships being part of breaking out of Chuck’s machine, to make their own rules, find hope despite those machinations, makes sense to me.

“I need my brother.” Yes, you do. You both do. Sam and Dean don’t just need only each other, but they are rule breakers and they do need each other. Team Free Will is essential to break Chuck’s machine, and Team Free Will is Sam & Dean, Dean & Cas, Sam & Cas, and all 3.

While the ice has broken a bit between Dean and Cas in this ep, they still aren’t talking about Cas. But their biggest wild card is on his way home and they are Team Free Rule Breakers, all three of them.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #eileen leahy #supernatural spoilers #saileen #destiel #sam and dean: a work in progress

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sharinluna · 5 years ago

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Chapter 21 Translation Part 2

Chapter 19

Chapter 19.5

Chapter 20

Chapter 21 Translation Part 1

I skip parts and paraphrase a lot when I translate. So that I could let the players enjoy the complete original translated text by themselves when the chapters are released. This is just to give you a small taste of what is going to happen.

Also, I didn’t have time to quality check so bear that in mind.

Trigger Warning: This chapter includes actions that reminds of real-life relationship abuse, physical violence, and near-death experience.

Because of yesterday’s explosion, few people were out on the streets. There were feelings of dreariness in the air. The protestors at the front of Lucien’s Research Institute didn’t come out today as well. But the door to the institute still remained firmly locked, barricading the building from visitors.

I went in using the back door again. Once inside, I pulled my hat over my eyes and grasped the recorder pen hidden in my pockets. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Lucien’s door.

I waited for a long time but there was no answer. I heard footsteps approaching me and turned around to see a young professor wearing a lab coat. He looked at me standing in front of Lucien’s office quizzically, with a bit of doubt in his eyes.

Young professor: What are you doing here? Professor Lucien is not here today.

I tried to explain myself.

Yōurán: I’m not here for an interview. I’m here to see Professor Lucien on personal business. Can you tell me where he is right now?

Young professor: You’re really not here for news?

He looked me up and down as if he still didn’t believe me but after a bit of hesitation he opened his mouth to answer.

Young professor: Professor Lucien has not returned to the lab since he left the office yesterday. I don’t know where he is.

Yōurán: Thank you.

I felt disappointed and at a loss for what to do next. Did Lucien leave right after I visited him? Where did he go then?

I stopped the world from ending with my death, but did I also stop the flu outbreak and Black Swan’s plans?

Was yesterday’s explosion just an accident, or was it done by an Evolver like the rumors on the Internet?

My thoughts landed on my precognition Evol. If I could see Lucien’s future, I would know his next target. I closed my eyes and repeatedly thought the one name in my head – Lucien – willing myself to see his future.

My firm resolution drew out a certain power that was flowing in my veins. Silent darkness covered my vision for a while. Soon, a greyscale light tore out the darkness to reveal a faint image.

???: Kill her.

I could hear a familiar cold voice.

In a dark, deserted place, a man wearing black was standing in the only light. The looks on his face was sharper than knives.

In front of him stood someone whose back was hunched down in pain. It was too blurry to see who it was, but the person somehow felt familiar.

Yōurán: Who is that?

Before I could see them clearly, the vision shook and abruptly ended. Simultaneously an awful migraine came over me. I had to grit my teeth to not cry out in pain.

I recalled the vision in my head. The desolate building looked familiar. It was the address of Ultima Bioresearch Institute’s old location where I once went with Lucien(The abandoned lab in chapter 13). Why did it have to be that place again? It seemed that everywhere I went it was connected to Black Swan.

Father once wrote in his report about KEY. He wrote that World Genetics Organization established Ultima Bioresearch Institute 70 years ago, and Loveland branch was established 20 years ago. 17 years ago, KEY attacked the server of the Institute. The incident affected the genetic data of humankind, leading to a huge impact.

So there was nothing useful left in there. Why would Lucien feel the need to go there again? Was there something I missed? I couldn’t think of a reason why he would go there. But thinking about what happened 17 years ago made me solemn. There must be a good reason why Lucien went there.

****************************************************

For the second time I visited the old location of Ultima Bioresearch Institute. Things looked the same as last time.

On the snow in the vacant lot were footsteps leading into the deserted building. I slowed to a walk and started to place my steps on the already existing footsteps. Steadily heading towards the building.

The door to the institute was unlocked. And there were signs of people shaking off snow on the entrance.

I heard sounds of something shattering and talking voices. I tiptoed toward the noise. As I went closer, I could make out Lucien’s voice among them. The silence was suddenly interrupted by a piercing scream.

The scream shook me and I accidentally stepped on something, and the sound was quite loud.

??: Who’s there!

A pair of sharp eyes spotted me immediately. Darn it.

Beyond the half-opened door I could see everything inside the room. Lucien was standing next to the window, looking eerily cold like someone who had no temperature. Closer to me was a woman wearing black. The one who had just shouted was her. Her expressionless grey eyes brought out a sense of terror from my memory. What was she doing here?!

Staying on alert, I looked at the female member of Black Swan that I had once encountered in the TV tower. She was more dangerous than most of the other Evolvers I had met.

She had easily overpowered a man who was crouched on the floor. His face was contorted and his eyes had no focus. His mouth was mumbling something senseless. I tried to hear what he was saying, and felt a chill when I understood his words.

Man: EVILS should all die…. You should all die…

He stopped talking when she punched him into unconsciousness as if she was annoyed. Then she stood up and looked straight at me.

Artemis: Well, now that you’ve seen us, we can’t let you go free then.

She narrowed her eyes. Dangerous energy seemed to flow from her eyes.

I wanted to immediately run away but she was quicker than me. Quick as a flash a suffocating grey fog swooped down on me. Even before the ash came into contact I felt my skin burning. I shouted out in pain as I felt death approach me.

Lucien: Stop.

Lucien spoke coldly but to me it sounded like a rescue spell. The grey ash that was about to swallow me up suddenly disappeared.

Artemis: She saw everything. Can we afford to let her slip?

Artemis wasn’t so keen to let me go. I looked between her and Lucien, desperately thinking of a way out of this.

Lucien continued to stare at me blankly. I couldn’t read what he was thinking from his eyes. I waited for his verdict like a prisoner waiting for their death sentence.

Lucien: Leave it to me.

I looked at Lucien. He looked so familiar, but yet so strange to me. Was he going to kill me in person? Or was he going to let me go?

Lucien: First, get that one out of here. Artemis.

Lucien eyed the unconscious man on the floor. Artemis nodded after a moment.

Artemis: Don’t ruin our plan, Ares.

She soon disappeared with the man. There was only me and Lucien now.

I opened my mouth. There were so many things I wanted to ask him but the one that had been most weighing on my mind popped out.

Yōurán: Why did you save me?

Feelings of danger still remained but I forced myself to look at him. His cold indifference made me feel like I was someone insignificant.

Lucien: Spontaneous decisions likely end in failures. But you might still be useful.

He said matter-of-factly. And the truth hurt so much.

Yōurán: So I’m just a test subject to you…

What was I hoping for, that he would still care for me? What was I waiting for him to say? Words of assurance? But Lucien shattered my foolish hopes at once.

Lucien: What else are you supposed to be then?

When he was not smiling like this, it was easy to feel terrified of him. I thought I could face it, but my heart still hurt to see him like this.

It seemed that I had never known him for real, whether he was Lucien, or Ares

Lucien: By the way, I’m curious how you came to be here.

Yōurán: I…

I had thought up an excuse, but I felt I could not trick his penetrating stare. Avoiding his eyes I asked back.

Yōurán: Why are you here then? This is where the Ultima Bioresearch used to be, not a place for casual meetings. If I spread the news that Professor Lucien was seen here, I’m sure many people would take an interest, right?

In his eyes flashed a look of surprise. He moved to the spot where the young man used to be, there was still blood in that spot.

Lucien: So that is what you want.

Yōurán: What do you mean…?

I looked at him not understanding his words and actions.

Lucien: 17 years ago, the server of Ultima Bioresearch was attacked by a hacker and massive amounts of genetic data were leaked. Among them there were data about Evol genes, and also information about the only person who had the Queen’s genes.

I stood thunderstruck hearing his words. Lucien, Artemis, and the man they had captured, was here because of the leaked data. Everything was still confusing, but I was certain that my speculation was right. They were looking for the Queen.

Yōurán: But didn’t all the data and information got destroyed?

There was anxiety and panic in my voice. I looked at Lucien desperately.

Lucien: I suppose you could think that.

The shadows in his eyes grew deeper as he answered my question vaguely.

Yōurán: Why… are you telling me this?

Lucien: Because you know more than I thought.

Half of his body was covered in shadows, the other half was covered in light. He walked closer to me step by step. His dark eyes emitted out a cold light.

youtube

Lucien: I’ve noticed this since the last time we met but…

His lips formed a bizarre smile. A smile that was cold, ruthless and extremely foreign.

Lucien: …why are you so sure that I won’t harm you?

As soon as he finished the sentence, a big shadow swooped down on me. Before I could react, my neck was being strangled by a brute force I could not escape.

He was so close to me our bodies were touching each other. In the eyes of a bystander, it would look like we were having a lover’s embrace. But his hands were suffocating my neck harder and harder.

I struggled to get out of his lethal grasp, but an invisible layer was restraining my body, leaving me unable to move.

His dark eyes held no emotion and no hesitation. They just quietly watched me painfully dying.

Yōurán: P- please let me go.

Tears flowed from my eyes, not out of sadness or fear, but as a pure physiological response from my body. My vision became blurry as I slowly choked to death, but I could see Lucien’s face clearly. There was no mercy, no pity in there. Only malice and cruelty.

Lucien: I already let you go once.

Yōurán: Why… why…?

I fell into despair as I saw that Lucien was trying to kill me for real. My sadness was inexpressible, and my brain fought to stay conscious.

Would I die? In front of my eyes I could see warm, white light but I wasn’t glad at all.

I don’t want to die yet. There were so many things left for me to do. I just came back here to this word…

Yōurán: No…

The light became bigger and bigger. In a pure white visual field there appeared numerous twisted black lines, constantly changing and fluctuating like error messages. The waves that I had felt once appeared again. Transparent patterns flared out forming concentric circles, spurting golden light.

If this was the power of my Evol…

A hole appeared in the invisible layer around me, and the strong force that was constraining me lessened.

I opened my eyes wide. I wanted to look directly into his eyes. With effort, I slowly raised my hand and grabbed his wrist. In a hoarse voice I whispered.

Yōurán: It can’t end…. like this….!

Suddenly, the restraint vanished and the hand strangling my neck let me go. Unprepared for this sudden change of actions I staggered and barely kept myself from falling. I breathed in the icy cold air and my lungs felt like burning. My chest hurt but the pain made me glad that I was not dead.

Lucien: You are the Queen of Black Swan.

I pulled my head up and faced him. Lucien was a few steps away from me and smiled in a cryptic way. The ruthlessness in his smile was bone-chilling.

Without the time we spent together. If the person in front of me had been Ares from the start and had only been Ares. If the Lucien that I had come to know hadn’t existed at all… then this man was more dangerous than anything I had ever faced.

Yōurán: I am not your Queen. I never was!

I met his gaze fiercely.

Yōurán: I’m not your lab rat that you can strap onto a med table and do your experiment on. And I certainly cannot be a reason that justifies the harm that you’re inflicting to people!

Lucien: You’re wrong.

Lucien put his hands in his coat pocket. There was no qualm in his heartless expression. And he seemed unfazed by my resistance.

Lucien: Evolution is necessary and Queen’s genes is just a way to a shortcut. Even without your input, we would still go for the same destination.

His words were candid and brutal. All the monstrosities I’d experienced in the past appeared in front of my eyes.

The sudden influenza virus was made by Black Swan to force people into evolution. But few people survived the attempt and the rest of them died in excruciating pain.

I clenched my fists and my eyes turned red. I can never forgive such a thing.

Yōurán: So it’s necessary that millions of people be sacrificed for your grand plan?

Lucien: New world and new order has always been founded on brutal realities. There has been no exception. Humankind’s evolution will never stop. If you fall behind, only death will wait for you.

It wasn’t surprising to hear him say these things. So why did I feel heartbroken?

Lucien: Evolvers are born out of a chance of thousands to one or millions to one. But there is only one Queen. Your genes can evolve ordinary people. Don’t you want to know the reason?

There was incomprehensible fervor in his eyes as he asked me that.

Yōurán: I don’t want to know…

I shook my head, refusing to hear the answer. But Lucien didn’t let me have that.

Lucien: Queen, by itself, is the height of natural evolution. If humans are the product of nature’s creation, Queen is a creation that ‘cannot exist.’

Yōurán: What do you mean by ‘cannot exist’….?

Lucien: The English scientist who first studied Evols called it “a pioneering creation”

There were deep meanings in his words that I couldn’t understand at all.

Lucien: It would be beneficial to us to cooperate with the Queen, but right now you are too weak, too insignificant and… entirely out of control.

The air around us hardened again. It felt like an invisible wall had separated us from the real world.

The danger was not gone yet. This time his expression was more serious, as if determined that he would not let me go this time. The depth of his eyes swallowed all light like a vortex from an abyss.

Trying to keep my intentions hidden, I calmly thought of a way to distract him.

Yōurán: Lucien! What are you trying to do?!

Lucien: Why, hold you captive of course, or…

He suddenly stopped talking.

Unseen rift expanded in the air, silently battling against another invisible force. I suppressed my dizziness and concentrated. Twisted white beams and black lines ceaselessly thrashed and drove out his power.

I unclenched my sweaty fists. It was a wild shot in the dark but I had succeeded.

Lucien: I didn’t know that you could do this.

Yōurán: …I just figured it out myself.

My voice was still hoarse from his strangling.

Yōurán: Ares, I will prove that you and your Black Swan’s doings are all wrong.

I wasn’t sure how long I could keep him constrained with my inexperienced Evol. With staggering steps I ran outside.

*********************************

Lucien watched her go further away from him. After a while he laughed quietly and dissolved her powers that was restraining him with ease.

Lucien: Let’s see how far you can reach.

He stood by the window and watched her struggle to run in the snow.

Suddenly, her form, which had been grey like everything else in his vision, suddenly tinged with vivid colors before it turned back to familiar darkness. But the colors still remained lucid in his retina.

His hand that had strangled her started to shake involuntarily, but he soon suppressed it with his reason.

Lucien: This won’t last long.

It wasn’t sure whether he was talking to himself or someone else.

Discussion

Why did I start this... ch21 is so tough to translate... I’m not sure I can come up with part 3 and part 4 of this chapter...

We now uncovered another aspect of Yōurán’s Evol. And honestly the descriptions are very abstract. I felt like I was reading a geometry book when I was reading about her powers.

1. Precognition(She can now use this power somewhat proactively)

2. Evolving other people(I think this has more to do with her Queen gene and not something she can control it.)

3. Invisible force(???)

She used this new power for the first time in chapter 20 when Helios was threatening her with a knife.

Suddenly, it seemed like time had stopped and my line of sight was bombarded with blinding white light. My soul was inside a pure-white space. In front of my eyes numerous black lines appeared forming unfathomable patterns. I reached out for those black lines. From the depths within my soul came out waves that passed from my fingertips and converted into soft lights that divided the shadows.

For a fleeting moment of 1/1000 second his powers restraining me vanished. I didn’t miss the chance and managed back off and escape from the blade at my throat.

I wasn’t sure but, it seemed like my consciousness had escaped the corporate reality for a short moment.

She used her powers again when Lucien was trying to kill her.

In front of my eyes I could see warm, white light. The light became bigger and bigger. In a pure white visual field there appeared numerous twisted black lines, constantly changing and fluctuating like error messages.

The waves that I had felt once appeared again. Transparent patterns flared out forming concentric circles, spurting golden light. A hole appeared in the invisible layer around me, and the strong force that was constraining me lessened.

Let’s try to figure out her new powers.

1. This ability manifests itself when she is constrained and unable to move in life-threatening situations(Helios about to stab her with his knife/Lucien choking her to death.)

2. Her mind goes to a place where there is a white light. She described that her consciousness seemed to have escaped reality.(My guess is that her mind came to contact with Black Cabin for a fleeting moment.)

3. Numerous black lines appears and fluctuates into waves and patterns.

4. She is able to shake away the powers that constrain her and with Lucien, she was able to constrain him, albeit briefly.

5. It seems that all of this happened in the short span of 1/1000 second. (0.001s)

All I can say about this is....wow.

I’d like to end the discussion by asking a question.

It can be inferred that Ares strangled Yōurán to see if she was Queen. The logic was that if Yōurán was really Queen, survival instincts would cause Queen’s powers to manifest itself when her life was in danger.

But if she had failed to do that, or if his assumption was wrong, she would have died in his hands. Can you say that Ares tried to kill her? Is what he did a murder attempt?

By the way, did you notice that his hand that strangled her shook when he started to see her in color? But he suppressed it and refused to think about it? *ugly sobs*

#mlqc #mlqc translation #mlqc lucien #mlqc ares

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

Text

Ghosts Are Just as Real as You and Me - Part 5

Five parts? This is further than I thought I’d get. All I can say about this chapter is that Aragon is a saint and she deserves all our love for being the best person ever. Aka she’s the only one who hasn’t made bad decisions yet. This chapter might seem a little disjointed, seeing as it’s written in snapshots, but I wanted to try the new style. Hope you enjoy! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, the only thing I’ve eaten today is a burnt piece of toast off the floor.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, (very) brief violence, cursing, Henry VIII

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Anne Boleyn had a plan. Or well, half a plan. Okay, maybe more like a fourth of a plan, but she was trying. There was no way she intended to help Henry tear her family apart, but there was only so much she could do. He had put her in an impossible position and Anne needed all her wits to figure a way out.

At first, she had tried avoiding Kitty. If Anne didn’t hang around Kit, she wouldn’t have anything to give Henry. After her confrontation with Cathy yesterday, Anne had gone to her room to make sure everything was as it should be. Henry had demanded she write him a letter on everyone’s actions in the past week, so she had done as he asked, leaving the finished product outside her window. By isolating herself, Anne’s hope was that the letter wouldn’t provide him with his much needed information. But her behavior had become suspicious. Cathy was catching on, Anne knew that, so she had to try a different approach. It was a long shot, but Anne needed to start acting on her fourth of a plan.

“Hey Kit,” Anne poked her head into her cousin’s room. Kit glanced up from her book and smiled.

“Hey Annie, what’s up?” She put a bookmark in the page and set the book down, devoting her attention to Anne.

Inhaling through her nose, Anne pushed away any internal doubt. “Do you want to go on a walk with me? Through the park or something like that.”

Standing up Kit agreed. “Sure Anne. Two days in a row, this must be a record.”

Silently recalling what Kit was referring to, Anne remembered Kitty’s absence as well as Jane’s and Aragon’s. That must’ve been what she was referring to. Anne felt a pang of hurt run through her body because of how little she was involved in what was going on with her cousin. Usually they were attached at the hip, but because of Henry… “Great! Let’s go now.”

Anne ruffled Kit’s hair goodnaturedly as the two of them shared a grin. Without even acknowledging any of the other queens, the two of them beelined for the door. Praying no one would comment, Anne opened the door and ushered Kit outside. “Anne where are you taking -” she heard Cathy call, but Anne shut the door and blocked her voice out.

“Did someone call your name?” Kit asked, taking a step towards the door.

“Nope,” Anne blocked her advance. “You’re probably just hearing things.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched Anne, but she said nothing about her strange behavior. “Right…”

Attempting to cover up, Anne put on a dazzling smile. “Let’s get going, eh.”

Staring at the door, Cathy hadn’t moved from her spot. Anne had completely blown her off. For usually being the center of Anne’s attention, it was startling to Cathy. Not that she... wanted Anne’s attention. But it didn’t feel good to be completely disregarded. She must have looked offended, because when Jane entered the room, she immediately stopped in front of Cathy. “Is something wrong?”

Turning away from the door, Cathy faced Jane. She debated what to tell her, before confessing, “Anne’s been acting weird. Not weird in her normal way. I asked her where she was going with Kit and she totally ignored me.”

Jane frowned. “She has been very withdrawn lately. Is there anything else?”

Cathy bit her tongue. She could tell Jane about Anne’s journal or… “No. Just that her personality did a full 180 and that’s what’s bothering me.”

“Yes, well Anne is unpredictable, maybe she’s planning something?”

Glancing around Jane at the door, Cathy flared her nostrils. “Yeah, maybe.”

Catching Cathy’s strange reaction, Jane was flooded with suspicion. There was something Cathy wasn’t sharing with her. Jane wouldn’t push, but filed away the thought for later. If Cathy was being secretive, that immediately made Jane trust her less, especially around Kit. “There’s certainly a lot of pressure on everyone. Especially with Henry popping up everywhere.”

Pausing, Cathy swiveled her head back to Jane. Her mouth opened slightly. “The only person who’s seen Henry was Kit. Unless…”

“No,” Jane quickly covered up. “I meant it… not literally?” Her excuse sounded more like a question than an answer. “It feels like he’s everywhere, is what I mean. No one else has seen him.”

If Jane was suspicious of Cathy, Cathy was doubly suspicious of her. Jane tended to be more collected than the others (bar Aragon), and seeing her suddenly stuttering was a red flag for Cathy. Something wasn’t right. Jane knew something like Cathy did, and she wasn’t sharing. Two could play that game.

The two women who had been helping each other only moments before were now standing in cold silence. They both regarded each other with narrowed eyes and upturned lips. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go write.”

“Of course,” Jane replied, the usual warmth in her gaze gone. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.” They shared a nod, the same thought on both their minds.

The game is on.

“So Kit, what’ve you been up to lately?” Anne started the conversation, putting her hands into her pockets.

The girl in question shrugged and kicked a rock on the sidewalk. “Not much. I started looking into taking online school.”

Smiling supportively, Anne gave her cousin her approval. “That’s really cool, Kit. What classes? Please don’t say something boring like maths.”

“Nah,” Kit shook her head. “Science and art. But mainly history.”

Scrunching her nose, Anne fumbled with her words momentarily. “Are you - uh, sure that’s the best option?”

“Yes,” Kit stated resolutely. “History’s always interested me. I want to know more, even if I’m a part of it. We missed so much Annie, aren’t you the least bit curious about how we got here?”

“I know how we got here -”

“You know,” Kit laughed, “what the internet and Hamilton have taught you. There’s more to it.”

“Eh,” Anne wasn’t particularly dedicated. “Why focus so much on history when you can live in the now? I’m tired of worrying what already happened. What’s done is done. We’re here for a second chance, we shouldn’t waste it.”

It was hard for Kit not to agree. “I can’t argue with that. We should use our second chances to do something we want to.”

Realizing she was being given a perfect opportunity, Anne gently prodded, “Speaking of second chances, why do you think Henry’s got one?” It was a good way for Anne to get the conversation started so she could press Kitty harder on the Henry topic.

“No.” Kit stopped in place. “I’m out on a nice walk with my cousin who’s been avoiding me for the past week. We are not going to talk about that -” she clenched her teeth in order not to curse, “terrible man. He’s not here right now. I’m not going to let him ruin a perfectly nice afternoon.”

Anne had to admire Kit’s resolve. The protective part of her was ready to defend Kitty at every corner, but the girl looked plenty capable of protecting herself. After the initial shock of Henry’s confrontation had faded, Kit had hardened herself. She had let him get to her once, and she wouldn’t let it happen again, even if it meant she had to cut off her fear. On the inside, Kit felt all sorts of emotions churning in her chest, the kind that would send her running to Jane normally. But she couldn’t do that. She would power through, and she would survive.

Anna had locked the door to her room as she practiced her boxing. A punching bag was makeshift hung from the ceiling as she practiced her stances and kicks. Her grunts were loud, a mix of exertion and frustration. She wasn’t getting the results she wanted and it was working her up. Punch after punch after kick after punch, the bag swung back and forth. Still, Anna was having trouble with the heavier weighted bags. If she couldn’t beat something that wasn’t fighting back, how could she match Henry?

A knock came from the other side of her door followed by, “Can I come in?”

“One second,” Anna called. As fast as she could, Anna took down the punching bag and slid it into her closet, out of view. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she attempted to appear cool and collected. Unlocking the door, she let Aragon in.

Aragon’s eyes darted around the room as she walked in, sensing something off. She didn’t comment on it, electing to give Anna her privacy. But there was something she did need to talk about with her fellow divorcee. “Anna.”

“Catherine.”

Sighing, Aragon held her hands together. “I’ve noticed you’ve been out a lot lately. Or shut up in your room. I know how close you and Kitty are, and I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Feeling her defensive instincts kick in, Anna stepped forward. “What do you mean, ‘doing this’?”

Staying calm, Aragon stared Anna in the eyes. “I don’t know, and I don’t need to know. But you’ve disappeared and it’s not helping anyone. I know you care about Kit. She’s doing fine on her own, but we’re all worried about her. If she breaks, you’re the best person to help her. I know Jane or Anne might not feel that way, but I see the way you two act around each other.”

“That sounds vaguely like spying,” Anna commented, leaning against her wall.

“I suppose it does.” Aragon just seemed tired, drained. Anna felt bad, treating her so rudely. “I mean to say that she trusts you more than anyone else. Kit knows you in a way she doesn’t know any of us. She may trust Jane and Anne with everything, but you’re her best friend.”

There was a twinge in Anna’s heart as she thought about Aragon’s words. She had barely seen Kit this past week, too busy with her own goals. But if Anna didn’t do this, she would be putting Kit in harm’s way. She could afford to lose some of Kit’s trust. She couldn’t afford to lose Kit. “You said she’s been doing fine on her own,” Anna stated bluntly. “She doesn’t need me.”

“Of course she needs you,” Aragon fired back.

Straightening up and stepping away from the wall, Anna tightened her fists. “Don’t treat Kit like a child. She may be young, but she’s not a baby, Catherine.”

The bags under Aragon’s eyes seemed to become even more pronounced when she looked down. “I don’t mean to baby her. I’m not trying to control anyone, but we need to stay unified. If Henry is coming for us, he’s going to come for our cracks. Pulling away from Kit isn’t going to help anyone, Anna.”

“Well that’s not your choice to make now, is it,” Anna refused to give in. Part of her hoped Henry would come and attack them. That way she would have her chance to take him down.

Murmuring, “One track mind,” Aragon started to make her way out of the room.

“What did you say?” Anna asked, trying to disguise the frustration building in her voice.

Her eyes boring straight through Anna, Aragon replied, “One track mind. Don’t focus so much on one thing that you block everything else out.” With that she exited the room and closed the door, leaving Anna alone.

“What does she know,” Anna consoled herself, going to the closet. She pulled the punching bag out, hanging it up once more. Even if Anna secretly understood what Aragon was telling her, she couldn’t take the time to listen. Anna wouldn’t allow herself to waste a second.

On the other side of the door, Aragon had sunk to the floor. She curled up in a ball and muffled her screaming. Yesterday, she had acted like she noticed nothing, being the happy companion Jane and Kitty had needed. But Aragon saw the nervousness behind each of Kit’s movements, especially when she struggled to tell the barista her order. She noticed Jane’s change in demeanor after parking the car. She was witnessing Anna pull away from the group and hurt herself in order to do whatever it is she thought she was doing. Aragon saw how suspicious Cathy had gotten of everyone, constantly watching and judging. She saw how Anne had lost her light and hidden from them all in some misguided attempt to protect her cousin.

The worst part of it all was that Aragon could watch on and do nothing. The others didn’t give her credit for her observations. Aragon wouldn’t push, that was a violation of respect towards the others, but God, did she want to. If she could just help them, any one of them.

A sob came out of her mouth as she curled into herself tighter.

Anne and Kit had reached a small children’s playground when they decided to stop walking. It was the middle of a school day and no one was around but the two of them. Kit was sitting on one of the swings while Anne stood at the top of the play structure. It was a bit of an odd picture, both of them being far too big for the miniaturized playthings, but neither of them mentioned it. “I missed this,” Kit spoke up.

“Missed what?” Anne smiled down at her cousin, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“You and me,” Kit explained. “I know it’s only been a week, but you disappeared and I started thinking maybe it was my fault or -”

“No!” Anne quickly assured her. “It’s never your fault Kitty.”

“Then why were you avoiding me?” Kit stood up off the swing and walked until she was under Anne. She tilted her head up and reached a hand out. Grabbing her cousin, Anne helped to hoist her onto the structure.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Frowning, Kit pushed, “Then what were you doing?”

“I…” when Anne couldn’t find an excuse, she admitted, “Okay, I was avoiding you.”

Hurt flashed across Kit’s face, but she stifled it. Best not to dwell on feelings if she could avoid them. “Why would you avoid me?”

There was no way Anne could explain it to Kit without telling her everything. “It’s… complicated.

“Perhaps I could help explain.” The two cousins whipped around at the familiar voice, bodies freezing when they saw him. Henry was standing on the other side of the playground, his smirk just as sickening as Kit remembered. “It’s not as complicated as you make it sound, Dear Anne.”

“Get the fuck away from us,” Anne ordered, stepping in front of Kit.

Henry pretended to look offended. “But I thought you would love to see me after agreeing to help me. Your letter was very insightful.”

Holding back her fear, Kit questioned, “What’s he talking about Anne?”

“It’s not important,” Anne said, not taking her eyes off Henry.

“It actually is quite important,” Henry contradicted Anne, approaching the two. Anne and Kit started to take steps back off the structure. “Without your insight I wouldn’t be able to see how well things are going. You’re all so predictable,” he spit out the last part.

Eyes widening in betrayal, Kit started to step away from Anne. “You’re helping him?”

“I would never help him,” Anne growled.

“But you are,” Henry’s tone was light but his eyes were threatening. “I even have your letter if you’d like sweet sweet Kitty to see it.” He pulled out Anne’s letter from the night before and waved it around like a prize.

The betrayal on Kit’s face was enough to break Anne. “Kit, you have to believe me, he’s lying.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Kit’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Did you bring me here so he could find me?”

“Of course not!” Anne shouted, distress building in her stomach. There was the fear building that Kit wouldn’t believe her, and she couldn’t afford that. Anne had a plan. She wouldn’t let Henry change the game before she got her turn. “There’s a lot going on that you don’t understand, Kit.”

“Because you never tell me anything,” Kit shot back, her voice icy.

While the cousins argued, Henry had come closer “I can’t stay much longer,” Henry brought the cousins’ attention back to him. He was now far too close for comfort, his terrible stench engulfing the two girls. “But you can have a little souvenir before I go.”

And then he pulled out a knife and stabbed Kit.

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

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 1

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, me writing Niall’s accent

WC: 6.7k

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“So… are we talking like, full on whips and chains and nipple clamps and shit?”

Shawn’s eyebrows are lost somewhere in his hairline, but at least it’s more life in his eyes than Niall’s seen in a while. Niall tries not to go pink at Shawn’s assumption, but he’s still not that good at talking about all this.

“No, no, mate. I mean, some of ‘em do that. I think, I mean, based on what you pay for it, they’ll do whatever you want.”

Both guys go quiet and squirm a little uncomfortably. They’re sitting in Shawn’s living room in his $3 million bachelor pad, furnished very tastefully and expensively, talking about hiring sex workers. It doesn’t look or feel great.

Niall sighs. “It’s not like Pretty Woman. These girls don’t even charge by the hour. They’re escorts, not hookers. They’re educated and articulate and the kind o’ woman you could have on your arm at any industry schmoozing event and no one would bat an eye. That’s the whole point.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. He’s heard of agencies like this, obviously. He’s been around the industry long enough to know guys like him, and producers and managers and agents and other high-powered men, aren’t driving down Hollywood Boulevard looking for $200 an hour streetwalkers. But that doesn’t mean Shawn’s ever remotely considered utilizing a service like this.

“But… they’re dominatrixes?”

Niall tips his head back and forth, squinting as he looks for the words. “They’re dommes. ‘S a bit different. La Splendeur is the name o’ the agency. They hire women that boss you around a bit, in some form or an udder. I mean, have you ever tried that?”

Shawn flushes a little and scrolls through his relatively short sexual history. “... sort of? Like, she’s on top?”

Niall sighs and closes his eyes with a wise smile. He has much to learn.

“‘S just a suggestion. La Splendeur is the best of the best. Super discreet. Beautiful. Interesting girls. And it’s better stress relief than I’ve found anywhere else.”

“Including golf?” Shawn quips.

Niall barks a laugh. “Including golf. I’ll leave you the number and you can decide. I really like Karina, but it might be weird knowin’ we’ve both had our hands in that cookie jar. Up to you, mate. Totally up to you.”

Shawn has never been so anxious about a phone call in his life. He goes through his phone and turns off location services first, suddenly paranoid that they could somehow track his device and be able to broadcast this for the whole internet. Plus, he’s busy with pre-festival run promo, so he’s forced to make the call in the middle of the day.

He goes to great lengths not to be heard, very publicly excusing himself to the bathroom and then running off to a quiet conference room down a hallway that was deserted. He shuts himself inside, stands in the corner by the window and dials, hands shaking.

The voice on the phone is smooth and easy, probably used to dealing with nervous wrecks like him all the time. She explains how it works -- the rates, the wire transfer, the security, the booking. Selecting his date comes down to an emailed photo portfolio, password encrypted and accompanied by a very stern warning not to share it with anyone, even potential referrals. Shawn supposes that makes sense -- they don’t want these photos getting passed around without the safety net of knowing that in return, the agency has the client’s private email address.

He’s twitchy all day before he can get home to his laptop, kick off his Saint Laurent chelsea boots, and pick his date.

‘Date’ is how he’s trying to think about it. Niall encouraged that, too. Shawn texted to let him know that he’d made the call (less than 24 hours after Niall had made the suggestion). Niall was over the moon, reminding him that it’s supposed to be fun and he shouldn’t feel weird about calling. It’s like a guaranteed great first date, just… a really expensive one.

Shawn opens the email to a PDF of professional and truly stunning photos. Each girl has a short bio and a series of shots that really don’t feel at all like advertisement for sex. He takes note of Karina, Niall’s favorite, a short and curvy Filipino girl who apparently excels at tennis, loves to sail and has an MBA. Her photos are gorgeous -- her on a beach wearing a tasteful cover-up and a flower in her hair with just enough cleavage to catch a guy’s attention, standing beside a tall window in a snug dress and heels, and grinning on a tennis court, a cute candid.

In total, there are about 25 women on La Splendeur’s roster of sorts, more than Shawn expected. They’re incredibly diverse in terms of race, shape and size, all accomplished and learned and surprisingly non-threatening, given the niche service they provide. Only one had him scrolling back up to look at her again and again.

Penny, 26, has a master’s degree in criminal psychology, is fluent in four languages, is an excellent skier and has a German shepherd named Pamela. Her photos show her lying barefoot in a cocktail dress on a lounge chair with a look in her eyes that says she already knows everything about you, looking over her shoulder to laugh at the camera during golden hour from above the Hollywood sign, and his personal favorite, a black and white close up headshot. She doesn’t look to be wearing a stitch of makeup. Her hair is wet and slung over and around her face like it’s in the wind. Her lips are parted, her eyes are dark, and Shawn has to meet her immediately.

Penny. Penny. Penny.

God, he can’t fucking wait. He’s so keyed up he actually grins at the change he gets from a barista at Commissary because she gives him back two cents.

His instructions are clear and concise. He is to get himself to the Chateau Marmont and head into the bar, where he will give his name. Someone will escort him up to his suite for the evening, where he will be greeted by security, who will confirm the receipt of the wire transfer and wait until his date arrives. Check out time is 11:30am the next morning.

The big guy who lets him into the room seems friendly enough, but Shawn is sure his every move is being watched by a hawk. Even with rich and famous clientele, agencies can’t afford to take risks with their employees. At least he doesn’t feel like a nervous kid being scrutinized by his prom date’s dad while he waits. In fact, the guy, Gus, he says, sees him shaking like a leaf and murmurs that the mini bar is fully stocked. He excuses himself to wait outside.

Shawn pours himself a glass of bourbon on the rocks and looks around. He’s never been in a room at the Chateau. It’s a bit odd -- almost too comfortable to be a hotel. There’s a full kitchen and vintage furniture that looks like it belongs in a warm, comfortable apartment rather than the stoic uniformity of a hotel.

He’s rattling ice in his glass anxiously and staring out at the lights of West Hollywood when the door opens. He’s just distracted enough not to stand immediately when she walks in, and he realizes a little late that it’s rude, so he scrambles to be upright and almost drops his fucking crystal glass.

She’s smiling warmly at him like they’re old family friends. It’s not clinical or superficial or forced. It’s a real smile, and it’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

I mean, wow.

She’s medium height, 5’7” probably, but taller in her spiky heels. Her hair is lighter than he saw in the pictures, probably from the summer sun. Her olive skin is gorgeously bronzed. Her brown eyes are darker than his, like espresso. Her eyes are wide set and framed by well tamed thick brows. Her lips are full and European. Italian, he’d guess.

So why is her name Penny?

Shawn almost rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn’t know why that’s sticking in his head now, of all moments. Gus gives her a nod and shuts the door. As she approaches, graceful and quiet even in her heels, Shawn blinks, staring at the door.

“Is… uh, does he stand outside the whole time?”

Penny smiles again and cocks her head, shaking it. “No, no. He’s my driver, not my guard dog.”

Shawn gives a weak chuckle and it sounds pathetic to his own ears. At the mention of dogs, his mind springs to Pamela the German shepherd. He wonders if she’s real or a line in a bio to make Penny sound quirky and likeable. He watches her lift her sheath of thick hair over one shoulder and reach for the glass of bourbon in his hand to take a sip. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Please, have a seat,” she suggests, gesturing to the sofa. He blinks too much and plunks himself down, clearing his throat.

She lowers herself beside him, facing him with her arm stretched along the back of the couch toward him. She folds her ankles and for a second Shawn thinks about the scene in The Princess Diaries when Mia falls out of her chair trying to pull the same move. Penny emulates Queen Clarisse instead. Shawn tenses against his own will. He can feel himself shutting down.

Penny takes another sip of his drink and eyes him carefully from over the glass. She’s been doing this long enough to know when a guy is locking up in front of her eyes.

It’s like Operation. You have to move slow and careful, or you get zapped. He could be the kind of guy that would respond well to her dropping her hand to his knee while they talk, or it could send him springing across the room. Penny follows her instincts and instead flicks her heels until her multi-thousand dollar shoes clunk onto the hardwood below her. She curls up her feet beside her and tilts her head to rest against her fist.

“How long are you in LA for?”

It’s one of her favorite safe questions. It offers potential to discuss work if he wants to go there, but is vague enough to offer him an out if he wants it.

“Uh, for another couple weeks. I’ve got some meetings and events and stuff and then I think I’m bouncing around. New York, maybe. I don’t know my schedule as well as I probably should.”

Well, at least he’s talking. She hands him back his glass with a wink.

“Schedule schmedule.”

Shawn smiles. It’s tentative still, but sweet. She made the right move by taking off a layer of the untouchable glamour.

It’s her move again. She considers the board, eyes her options, keeps her fingers delicate on the tweezers.

“I listened to your music this week.”

It’s a risky shot, like going for the funny bone. She already knows, can tell by the way he carries himself, that he’s here to work something out of his system. This appointment isn’t about satisfying a rakish curiosity or an ego thing, or worse, a sex addiction. He needs something from her -- comfort, release. If it’s his music that’s driving him to need her, mentioning it off the bat like this could do some damage to the trust she’s working to build. She holds her breath.

He lights up.

“Oh, cool. All of it?”

She wiggles her naturally shaped eyebrows. “Right down to “Something Big.””

Shawn winces playfully and laughs. It sounds real this time. “Yikes.”

“No, it was cute,” she insists, her fingers stretching out along the back of the couch to nudge at his very solid arm. He goes a little pink.

“Do you have a favorite?”

Shawn doesn’t mean to put her on the spot. For all he knows, she just googled his albums to have something to say. But he asks anyway, despite himself, because he’d like to know which, if any, of his songs caught the attention of a woman like her.

“I like “Particular Taste.” It came on in my car the other day while I was on Mulholland. It’s a damn good car song.”

Shawn feels himself get a little smug. “Thanks. I like that one, too.”

They’re watching each other quietly, feeling the tension build. Penny wets her lips and leans in, getting ready to speak again.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Shawn blurts. His eyes go a little comically wide before he course corrects and inspects his nearly empty glass.

Penny is startled, but tucks some hair behind her ear and regroups. “Almost five years.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

Penny shares a wise sort of smile that reminds Shawn uncomfortably of Emily. “It’s nice work if you can get it.”

“Right,” Shawn croaks, glancing away.

Penny feels the gentle sting of having nicked the board just a bit with her tweezers. She reaches out the arm against the couch and lets her fingertips skim his lush curls. His chest shudders and his eyes dart toward the window. He raises his shaky hand with the empty glass to his lips for something to do.

Penny drops her other hand to his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she murmurs, all honey, “Would you like me to refill that?”

Shawn looks down at his drink and shakes his head. “N-no, that’s ok.”

Penny swipes her tongue over the front of her teeth and decides to toss her playbook aside the way she does on rare occasions.

She scoots in, cups his cheek in her hand and focuses his eyes on hers. His jaw twitches under her fingers.

“What do you want, Shawn?”

He blinks quickly, startled that she said something, confronted him with the actual situation they’re dealing with.

“I’m… I don’t know. Can… can we just talk for a while?”

She eases back a little, drops her hands in her lap. “Of course. About anything in particular?”

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek, then says, “How did you get into… escorting?”

He emphasizes the last word as a question, unsure if he’s using the right terminology. She nods reassuringly.

“Well, around the time I was graduating from college, I met a girl at a party who recruited me, for lack of a better term. She told me about the money, the tips, the security, the gifts. Sounded pretty good to a 20-year-old without a post-grad plan.”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You graduated college at 20?”

She shrugs. “I skipped the 4th grade and AP tested out of most of my freshman year.”

He’s impressed. And intimidated. He fights the instinct to curl him up into himself. He doesn’t want to feel small beside her. He wants to feel impressive, too.

“That’s pretty cool. Do you do this full time?”

Penny laughs. It’s light and airy and maybe just a little… restrained somehow.

“Yes. You’re very curious about my line of work.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be-- I mean, I just… Sorry--”

She stops him from stumbling all over himself by planting a hand around his wrist.

“It’s ok. I’m just not used to being asked. Most people… they don’t want to be reminded that they’re paying for it.”

As soon as she says it, she hears the mistake in her words. Fucking amateur bullshit, she scolds herself, watching him cave in. His eyes drop to his feet and his chest rises and falls a little harder.

“Hey,” she prompts gently, keeping her hands off this time for fear of sending him flying, “Don’t shut down on me.”

He looks back at her blankly. “Don’t…?”

She presses her tongue out to smooth along her lower lip. “I’m here to help make you feel good, Shawn. I’m excellent at knowing how best to do that, but I think I’m gonna need an assist from you this time. So just… don’t think, don’t act, don’t react, just feel it. And tell me what you want.”

“I want to cuddle.”

He says it so suddenly he surprises himself. Without missing a beat, Penny nods, formulating a new gameplan in her head. She bites her lip and reaches for his twitchy hand in his lap.

“Ok. I can do that. I just want to get comfy first, ok?”

Before he can wonder out loud what she’s going to change into and how she got clothes in here without him seeing, she leans in and presses her lips to his delicately. His frazzled brain lights up like the 4th of July, sending thoughts flying like out of control fireworks. He kisses back after a second or two, firm but chaste. He murmurs subtly into her mouth.

Small victories.

When Penny walks out of the bathroom five minutes later, her makeup is wiped clean, leaving her face a little shiny and flushed. She’s in touchably soft clingy leggings and a Lululemon hoodie, looking like an athleisure ad. She’s still barefoot, her white painted toes winking up at him before she drops onto the bed and waves him over. He makes to climb up next to her and she hisses, gesturing to him with a wave of her hand.

“I took off my armor, Mendes, you need to do the same.”

Shawn swallows and smiles shyly. He kicks off his shoes, balls up his socks and drops his jeans into a heap by the bed. In his taut navy t-shirt and custom printed Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he settles in beside her, mirroring her position on his side.

“Ok, cards on the table, I think. Bad breakup? Tour anxiety? Voice struggles?”

Shawn’s chest rises and falls heavily with a deep, unrestrained sigh. There’s no reason to hide from her. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t have expectations. She’s a safe space.

He stares down at the curve of her hip as he speaks. He tells the story from what he thinks is the beginning -- Emily’s first mention of the idea of the PR relationship with Bex. He explains the strategy and the trajectory, that they expect to be in and out of the public eye throughout the summer festival run and will not-so-quietly break up just around the time his album releases in the fall and Bex heads out on tour for her brand new EP.

Penny nods along while he speaks, pursing her lips and shifting slightly closer to him. She’s not working consciously, not timing the seconds between movements like she sometimes does, like she did even just on the couch a few minutes ago. But as he talks, she feels the tension start to drip off him and release to the point where she has no hesitation in slipping her fingers into the tight, short curls at the back of his neck while she runs her toes up and down the back of his calf.

He seems comforted by being able to touch her, too. He rests a hand in the dip of her waist and it wanders slightly up her ribcage and upper arm, twisting his long pale fingers in her hair. He watches it curl and bend for him. He can’t remember the last time he played with a woman’s hair like this.

When his cursory explanation ends, he closes his eyes and rests his head on his folded arm. Penny’s fingers tug gently at the nape of his neck for his attention.

“Sounds like a lot.”

Shawn’s chest stutters. His eyes well. He turns his face into the pillow, embarrassed by the hair trigger of his emotional reaction.

“S-sorry, I just… fuck. I don’t know why I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a final unintended whimper of defeat, a nice bookend on a chunk of shame he can hang onto and revisit in his head when he needs it the least.

His eyes are snapped shut. The tears on his lashes start to wick into the expensive fabric of the pillowcase beneath his head. He’s waiting for her -- he doesn’t know what for. He’s waiting for her to leave him there to cry it out, get back in her expensive shoes and clack away from his misery. He’s waiting for her to shove a hand down his boxers and give him what she thinks he paid for. He’s waiting for her to hate him like he hates himself right now.

Slowly, timidly, he opens his eyes. She’s there, blinking at him, face as placid and reassuring as he’s seen since she got here. She doesn’t look ready to run. She doesn’t look at him like the pitiful creature he’s acting like. She slides her long fingers up further to cradle the back of his head and make his wet eyes flutter.

“Would you like to hear what I think?”

Shawn pauses, then nods.

Penny wets her lips. “I think maybe you’re not very good at compartmentalizing yet.”

Shawn frowns slightly and starts turning circles on her lower back with the pad of his thumb, nodding at her to continue.

“This relationship stunt doesn’t define you as a man or as an artist. It’s publicity, the same way appearing on GMA is publicity. It’s not as honest, maybe. I can see that’s part of what bothers you. I can understand that. But this is a means to an end. You’re not using Bex; she’s aware of what she’s involved in. She benefits, too.

“So instead of letting this become something that bothers you in quiet moments, makes you question what this makes you look like or even who this means you’re becoming, you need to accept that this is a part of your job and it’s not who you are.”

Shawn blinks dumbly. He’s been trying to convince himself of this for a while, but he’s never come close to sounding as soothing and confident as she does right now. This woman listened to him yammer for seven minutes about his stupid pop star problems without rolling her eyes or waving off his concerns.

Thank god he’s paying her to be here or he swears he’d already be half in love with her.

Shawn closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you may.”

He opens his eyes and watches her, settled by the distinct sensation that she’s allowing him to proceed as he’s comfortable. At the same time, he’s deliciously unnerved by something lurking behind her eyes, like she’s deciding how long to give him before she takes over. He hopes it won’t be long.

Shawn cups a large palm around her cheek, marveling at the silkiness of her hair in his fingers as he leans in, brushing his lips over hers. He hears himself murmur gently at the slick warmth of her lip balm. It tastes like rose water and coconut.

He eases back after a moment, his head spinning.

“Jesus Christ, that’s incredible.”

Her long, dark lashes lift and lower lazily, casting shadows on her cheeks in the lamplight. “Kissing me?”

He shakes his head, marveling with a gentle groan, “Yes. Why does kissing you feel like the best thing that’s happened to me in months?”

“It’s simple. It’s stable. It’s honest.”

She says it like she didn’t have to think about it. She’s unwavering and direct and he knows she’s probably really good at all this because of who she is and what she does but he doesn’t think he cares right now if it’s not genuine. It feels too fucking good.

He smirks. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

Her full lips spread in a lazy grin. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” Shawn mutters just before pressing his lips back to hers.

Shawn has no idea what to expect. It’s been what’s had him on a knife’s edge since he booked this appointment. His curiosity has been his friend while zoning out in meetings, standing in security lines at airports, stripped down to his boxers in front of a team of people while trying on show clothes. An experience like this to look forward to was an intense enough distraction from his anxiety.

And now, lying in a bed next to her with her perfect tongue tangled with his and her soft hands roaming his body hungrily, but with purpose, his mind races -- what will this be like? What will this feel like? Is it really as good as Niall says?

She pulls back suddenly, her lips leaving his with a wet smack. His hips rut against her stomach in response.

“Time for you to stop thinking,” she rasps. Shawn squirms at the fucked-out quality of her voice. Is it at all possible that he’s got her as worked up as she has him? He’s already throbbing for her in his briefs, which he knows she can feel against her thigh.

He brushes his nose against hers a little desperately, silently begging for more. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell she’s smiling when she cups his cheek and rolls their bodies so she’s lying slotted up against him in every way that makes him crazy.

“You like kissing, huh?” she breathes. It’s not teasing, not really. It’s curious and gentle. He can feel the way she takes note of the things that have him panting a little harder, pressing into her more insistently. It makes him feel important and a little bashful. He nods anyway, lifting the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good kisser, Shawn,” she sighs into his mouth, dropping her weight into her hips and sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his pecs.

If her tongue wasn’t teasing his lower lip, he’d be grinning like an asshole.

His hands are growing frantic. They can’t decide where they like better -- her supernaturally soft hair, coursing up and down her spine, or resting on the toned swell of her ass. So they wander, getting grabbier as they go, until she pulls away again with a long lick of her wet lips.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He hears himself ask it over the rushing of blood in his ears. He can tell by the way she smiles down at him that he looks horrified at his own question. She pushes some curls off his forehead and looks him over, slowly, carefully, admiringly. Shawn is on fire beneath her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

As if in slow motion, she tucks a hand under his neck. The motion fixes his manic, desperate eyes on hers. His breathing slows. His heart drops into his gut. His jaw tightens.

“Anything I want.”

Her voice is hot and sharp. Shawn’s face screws up like his body is physically overwhelmed by the idea of all the pleasure she can offer him. His eyes snap shut and the groan he releases is inhumanly loud.

When he can force himself to look back up at her, Penny has straddled his hips and works on lifting her hoodie up and over a black bra that he’s sure only a woman like Penny could wear… like that.

Her breasts are full and soft, as evenly tanned as the rest of her, from what he can see, which is not enough. He gets a flash of a vision of her lying on the chaise on the balcony outside their Chateau suite without a stitch on her, sipping a mimosa and smiling when she catches him admiring her. He grunts and reaches for her, needing to take and touch and taste.

His hands are pinned beside his head before he gets far. He gasps. His eyes blur with her quick movement until they can refocus and realize she’s holding him down, her breasts a breath away from his mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

“Listen to me.”

It’s clear and stable and calm like a beacon in a storm. Shawn juts his chin up defiantly, licking his lips.

“You don’t touch me until I tell you to. If you do, you don’t touch me at all, not for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”

Shawn’s fingers curl into fists beside his head. His body aches, straining for the control she’s sapping from him. He’s not used to willingly giving it up, not anywhere, not for anyone.

“Take a deep breath,” she advises, feeling him struggle with the release of it, of the reins he’s held for so long his hands are fucking raw. His whole body feels raw looking up at her.

He does as he’s told. Her eyes are nearly black in the low light. He feels his shoulders soften and the squeezing of his heart start to slow, just a bit.

“You’re gonna have to walk me through this,” he grunts, shaking his head, “I-- I’m… for so…”

“I know,” she soothes, not to placate him, not to baby him. She wants him to know she understands. He feels it in the way she looks at him, the way she massages her fingers around his wrists.

He’s ok. He’s safe. He’s safe with her. It hits him all at once like a brick over the head. He swallows.

“I’m here to take care of you. I want to make you feel as good as I possibly can.”

He nods again.

She moves slowly, gracefully, like a lithe and dangerous predator. She pushes her leggings down her hips, sliding them off her feet until they’re forgotten in a pool at the end of the bed. His shirt and boxers join them, leaving his cock aching and leaking from the tip on his lower belly. He lies beside her, as instructed, with his arms over his head, grasping a pillow in his needy fingers.

She just… touches him.

He thought at first she was just going for a slow tease, would wrap her warm fingers around his cock after thirty seconds or so to get him somewhere, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan. He’s flat beside her, legs slightly spread, tensing and relaxing with each brush of her fingertips.

Before long, he realizes what she’s doing and it stuns him into holding his breath for so long that the gasp he releases when he remembers he needs oxygen makes her jump a little.

She’s studying him. She wants to know every inch of his body, wants to see how every subtle touch affects him. She is reading him like an instruction manual. Her eyes flicker, narrowing and darting and taking it all in. She can see every goosebump, every subtle lift of his hips, every intake of breath, every clench of muscle and little smile when she finds somewhere ticklish. By the time her scan seems complete, he’s panting, shaking, vibrating with need, and he knows she knows his body better than he does now.

And she gets to decide what to do with it.

From beside him, keeping her eyes on his, Penny reaches back and unclasps her architecturally stunning bra, draws the straps down her arms, and drops it off the side of the bed, revealing what Shawn had suspected to be the most perfect pair of breasts of all time. He was right.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hisses, pressing his head back into the pillow to keep from lunging at her stiff brown nipples. He’s rewarded for his compliment with a sweeping hand down his stomach, her fingertips just skimming the line of pubic hair that reaches down from his navel. His hips roll up in response.

Penny turns. Shawn watches her hair swing low against her back like a pendulum, entranced before he realizes she’s standing and bending over to shed her black lace cheeky panties. He remains still, his head turned toward her as she bares herself, until she turns back and faces him and he chokes on air.

He’s seen beautiful women naked. Plenty of them. Really, he has. He knows somewhere in his addled mind that it’s the performance of it that has him so fucking high strung that he almost coughs up a lung when he sees Penny without clothes, that he really, legitimately feels like he’s going to have a heart attack just from looking at her.

But he’s never been so goddamn hard in his life.

She takes a step toward the bed and lifts her leg to climb up next to him. He realizes with a jolt as he watches her legs separate that she’s soaking fucking wet. The insides of her thighs are slick. Shawn presses his heels into the bed to ground himself.

You can’t fake that.

Without a word, she positions herself on top of him, her strong legs on either side of his hips, her hands sunken between pillows by his head. Their eyes are locked. Shawn’s cock shifts against his stomach impatiently. Penny lifts a corner of her soft wet mouth. Shawn chokes on a whimpering sound he’s never heard himself make before. She drops her hips and he hears himself gasp.

“Oh!” he cries, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up to meet her. He vaguely feels the warmth of her lips on his chest, but he’s busy trying to fight back his orgasm that, with just the pressure, warmth and wetness of her pussy resting against his length, is roaring up in his abdomen.

“J-jesus… fuck…” he hisses, rolling his head to the side, sure if he looks down at her pretty face he’ll be coming like a freight train before she even has the chance to really do anything.

“You’ve never felt anything like this before,” she tells him smoothly. It doesn’t smack of arrogance or condescension. It’s simple fact. They both know it.

He shakes his head no, panting breath into the pillowcase.

“You never knew it could be like this.”

Again, he’s agreeing.

“I want you to remember this, what this feels like with me in your lap, wet for you, showing you how this can feel with me. I want you to look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, Shawn.”

Another purring whimper escapes his throat. Slowly, he peels his sweaty cheek from the pillow and blinks down at her. There’s something feral that’s taken the place of what he saw in her before -- the white painted toes, the cozy hoodie, the gentle giggles. This part he sees now is going to swallow him whole. He’s going to let it, with pleasure.

Penny rolls her hips from left to right, swinging back again easily, with the rhythm of a dancer. The sound their bodies make is absolutely obscene. He grits his teeth through a hiss, watching her eyes flutter.

“You feel… incredible,” she pants slightly, establishing a slow, aching pace that makes Shawn’s brows draw together and his knuckles whiten against the pillow.

“I don’t know how long I can--”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

She says it easily, like he’s in no danger of losing his fucking mind and spurting all over her stomach in probably only a few seconds. He realizes with a shiver it’s because she knows, for certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that he won’t come until she tells him.

“You’re so nice and hard for me, fuck. Touching you got me so wet. Can you hear us?”

Shawn is quaking, clinging to sanity, as her slick folds hug his cock, grinding harder with each pass of her hips. He doesn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He has no idea what could come out of his mouth at this point. He just nods eagerly, begging his eyes to stay open so he can obey her.

“Can you feel the way the head of your cock is rubbing my clit?” she nearly squeaks, sounding genuinely as close to orgasm as he is. His eyes go wide. His stupid mouth opens.

“Are-- are you gonna come like this?”

Holding her quick rocking pace, Penny springs up, snapping at his lower lip like a snake. He freezes, whining, and very nearly loses control of his tensed arms.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” she moans, and it’s the only warning he gets before her whole body goes tight atop him and she gushes all over his cock and thighs.

“Holy fuck, holy fucking shit,” Shawn gasps, rolling his hips to cradle her as she stutters through it, mewling and humming against his chest. He watches her eyes squeeze shut and open again slowly, looking up at him like she forgot he was there.

In the stillness, the room is so quiet, it’s loud. Shawn feels every cell in his body screaming, begging.

Penny licks her lips and shifts, getting ready to bear down. “You can come now.”

His hips take off at a sprint with her permission. She keeps up easily, using her weight in her knees to drive herself back against his every stroke, egged on by the wet slap of their skin and the glazed look in his eyes.

“Penny, I’m coming,” he warns her, because he feels like he should and he doesn’t know quite why other than he thinks she craves her permission for everything now. She squeezes her swollen lower lip under her row of straight white teeth and watches curiously, doubling down on the stroking of her hips.

“Shit! Oh fuck!” Shawn screams, hips roiling and rioting beneath hers as he comes hard, spurting against her swollen folds and between their clenching stomachs. His vision goes white. He can’t hear himself if he keeps talking, or yelling, and he can’t hear her if she’s trying to soothe him through it. It’s several seconds before he crash lands to feel her peeling her body off his and sees her shifting back over his thighs.

He doesn’t have time, or the mental capacity, to speak before she reaches between her legs and swipes a hand through her wetness and his. Her palm is slick, glistening in the low light. She reaches for his tired cock and gives it a squeeze.

“I want one more.”

His eyes bulge. “What?”

“One more, Shawn. Come again for me. You’ve been waiting for this for a week, I know you have it in you. Now fuck my fist and come for me.”

Shawn’s jaw drops as she pulses her fingers again. Despite everything he thought he knew about his own body, he feels himself already starting to harden in her palm again. He groans loudly, pulls his shaky legs so his feet plant below him, and starts lifting his hips.

“Ohmygod. Oh… oh my god,” he pants, eyes wild as they fix on her in disbelief. How did she know? How does she have this much power over him already? How does he make sure she never gives it back?

“Yes,” she praises, looking ravenous as his hips pick up speed and he grows fully hard in the clench of her fist, “Fuck, you’re so fucking good for me.”

His head tips back. He mewls a noise of overwhelmed pleasure and fucks his hips up even harder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fucking come again!” he shouts, pupils blowing out as he comes up on his forearms and bucks his entire lower body, quaking as he hurtles toward a second orgasm.

Penny lurches forward, swallowing the scream she knows is building in his chest with a searing kiss. His abdomen clenches as he bursts for her again, drenching her fist and his belly. It’s shorter and rockier than the first orgasm, sending him falling back to the bed totally limp and sated in only a few seconds. Penny mercifully releases him from her fist, using her other hand to smooth through his hair.

She’s concerned for a minute that she broke him. He just keeps staring at her, blinking too slowly, not speaking. She presses little kisses over his face, partially to encourage him, and maybe a little bit to distract herself from trying to make him come again because holy shit, she loved that.

“Never done that before,” he mumbles finally, his eyes sliding shut, like he’s finally secure enough to close them and believe she’ll still be sitting there when he does.

She nods, though he can’t see her. On her own wiggly legs, she manages to stand and get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. When she returns to wipe him off, he’s blinking at her curiously.

“Can I touch you now?”

She grins. “Yes you may.”

Shawn smiles gently. His eyes slide shut. He lifts a heavy palm to her thigh, rubbing her soft bronzed skin in a tender gesture of thanks.

Penny tosses the cloth aside and folds up against him, manipulating his arm around her as she lies against his chest.

“Wanna see you again,” he whispers. She bobs her head.

“Anytime you want.”

He presses his face into her hair, inhaling expensive salon shampoo and exhaling at least three months’ worth of stress. He’s asleep in under ten minutes. She decides to let him rest and behaves herself enough not to wake him up for round two (or three, technically) for at least an hour.

----------

This is gonna be a wild one, guys. If you’re so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @tnhmblive @greedydevil

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction

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mindwideopen · 4 years ago

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Disclaimer: anyone embarrassed of my cleavage, please bypass this post. Thank you. (Again, repeat this disclaimer out loud, and say it like Steve Martin being his insane yet loving character “ruprecht” in “dirty rotten scoundrels”)

Faux Monty python auditions:

Disclaimer 2: NOT based in reality, because the actual members of Monty python are gentlemen, and are kind. No character assassination intended. My intention for writing this is harmless satire because of my admiration for their group. And, the fact that as women, they are prettier than I am.

(Lights up on a very large board room with a very long table. All of the members of Monty python are sitting in a row, facing Kari.)

Kari: hey! Nice to meet you all! (Shakes their hands) you guys are fantastic! I’m so happy to get the opportunity to audition for you, and be considered for your group.

Monty python: nice to make your acquaintance. (Whispers amongst themselves at the long board table they’re sitting at, evaluating Kari) who is she?! A bird. What kind of bird? I don’t know... let’s analyze... pull up her headshot. A “headshot” is a picture for you people who don’t know what a head shot is. We don’t mean an actual gun shot to the head.

(To Kari) Ok. Let’s...

Kari: let’s what?

Monty python: look at your portfolio of character work.

Kari: I write, mostly, but these are silly pictures of me for fun.

Monty python: we love fun. Quite.

Kari: we have that in common then!

Monty python: quite.

Monty python: no. Ok. You are not a bird. This is not you, is it? No, it can’t be. You are a cat woman. Unusual.

Kari: oh, that’s a filter on Snapchat.

Monty python characters: Snapchat? What’s that?

Kari: it’s an app that makes you into different creatures.

Monty python: what’s an app? Our show is based primarily in the 1970s we think, we have to look it up to be reminded, and haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. Well, regardless, let’s all pull up a better picture of you, since you are not really a cat. We’re quite sure, yes, quite, that you are a human being, although not sure, so no. Next slide, please! (We’re British, so we’re polite about our requests...)

Monty python: ok, no. In this one, you are a shocked and lacey, bear creature. Are you a biological man?

Kari: no.

Monty python: one of the criteria of joining our group is that you are a man.

Kari: well, I’m not. See the next slide.

Monty python: please discuss something amongst yourself while we confer about you, in front of you.

Kari: ok. (Kari starts talking about ray rayner, and chelveston the duck to herself...)

Monty python: well, we’re not sure why she’s here if she’s not a man. We play all the women in our sketches. Um, also, we hate to bring this up and look naive, but is she writing us? We don’t know. Some of us aren’t even alive, so it’s hard to determine what’s happening in this case, as we’re all speaking the same words at the same time. If she is writing us this is highly irregular, which is a state that we’re used to being in. The words keep coming. Yes, but she never differentiates the difference between one of us, and all... so we sound like a men’s spoken word chorus. Do those exist? They do now, we are it. Who is this insane woman? God only knows...

God: no, I don’t.

Kari: well, I’m done with my conversation with myself, are you guys done as well?

Monty python characters: yes. Quite. ok, well, next slide pleeeeease.

Monty python: oh my.... yes. Not a man. Ahem. Yes. Clearly. Right. Kari, would you please excuse us again, as we need to confab about you yet again.

Kari: ok. (Kari discusses her love of Kurt Russell and Goldie yawn amongst herself. Both national treasures, both not in the movie, “national treasury, or whatever it’s called...)

Monty python: all in favor of her being in our group, say we! Wait! Before we vote, oh. My... (they Hub hub hub hub peas and carrots. Please say the hub hubs and the peas and carrots like all of the characters in the movie “waiting for guffman”.)

Monty python: Kari, We need a moment to discuss you.

Kari: do you want to discuss me, with me?

Terry Gilliam: yes! Absolutely eventually at some point not now no yes. But we need some privacy at this time.

Kari: ok. I need to take a shit. I’ll be back.

(Monty python all sit and analyze this photo. 4 hours later)

Monty python: yes. Quite. ok! Next slide, please.

John Cleese: um, I’m not done. You all proceed. I’ll hang back a bit, because she looks like she could get rough. I will protect us... because she’s evil... I hope.

The rest of Monty python: very well, next slide, please.

Monty python sans the John Cleese cause he went off to shoot his cameo in the “great muppet caper” 40 years ago...: jooooohhhhnnnnn..... she is evil....

John Cleese: on it! (Mumbling to himself but half to us, the reader, which is me only, cause I write for my own amusement) But not, because she’s married and I think I am but I’m not sure, cause she’s writing this, and unaware of my marital status...) I will call, the only ghostbuster she isn’t pissed at right now because he’s dead... and doesn’t ignore her insane writing because he’s unaware or aware that she writes... oh Egon....

Egon Spangler (as portrayed back in the 80s, by Harold Ramis, or, as Kari lovingly refers to him, Hamis.): yes, this is a classic class F case of a “she be piiiiiiiissed” poltergeist, fairly common around these parts as of late, shouldn’t be an issue. I accept rubies (not to be confused with a ruby gem stone) and zorks currency as payment. Payment due up front.

John Cleese: (yelling) well I don’t have a ruby or a zork on me?!? What do you think I am?! The queen or something?!

Queen the band: definitely not.

John Cleese: (yelling and flailing his arms around like Kermit the frog because he idolizes him, and just worked with him, in the great muppet caper, so he’s heavily influenced by his dynamic personality) see?!?! Now how are we supposed to exercise her?!? She’s the devil! She writes insane things not unlike us, but we’re fine because we’re men that dress like women, and that is socially acceptable, but a woman who acts like a man, is not! And she sometimes acts like a black man, and that is doubly not acceptable, not in a way that cancels itself out, but in a way that emphasizes my point profoundly. She MUST be exercised!

Richard Pryor: have you tried walking her around the block after meals?

John Cleese: (still yelling per the ush) what the hell are you talking about??!? Walk her around the block after meals?! I couldn’t get a harness around her if I tried! She’s writing me flailing around like Kermit the frog! The woman must be stopped!!!!!!

Richard Pryor: just a suggestion. You need to relax, Jack, ok? Cause you’re more than a little uptight.

George Carlin: British.

Richard Pryor: ok. Got it.

Carlin: and isn’t it, exorcised?

Richard Pryor: not as funny.

Carlin: ok. got it.

Eric idle, who stands idle to the fact that his last name is also “idol” when said, and also leaves too many questions like others who suffer with the same affliction have... which idol are we discussing? The sun god, Rah? The sacred cow? American?

Eric idle character: oh god.... scene...

God: I love Kari, I do, because she believes I love everyone, so yes, scene is fine.

John Cleese character: yes! Quite.

Egon Spangler: 70 zorks, please. No personal checks.

Svengoolie (not his son, just him): yes. No.... personal.... checks.....

(Kari walks into an empty conference room)

Kari: um, hey guys? Anyone here? Oh well, I feel better now that I’ve pooped!

(Monty python jump out from underneath the long board table)

Monty python: Boo!

Kari: oh! You startled me! Good thing I just pooped!

Monty python: yes, quite. So, here’s the thing; we’ve reviewed your portfolio and you’re brilliant with the exception of a few things.

Kari: what’s that?

Monty python: well, the first thing is that you’re a woman.

Kari: yes, I am. I saw proof of that in the bathroom.

Monty python: ah, yes. The second thing is that according to Wikipedia, a website we have never heard of at the point in which we were in the first picture, let alone the fact that the internet as we know it was not conceived yet either, and all we had were encyclopedia brittanicas, our show ran from 1969–1983, 1989, 1998–1999, 2002, 2013–2014. All years past. You were born, when?

Kari: 1974.

Monty python: ok, now see? We were in full swing at that point in time. You were a bit too, not available for us, and also too much of a woman for us all, and that’s great! Because you’re way more intelligent than we imagined, we can tell by your pictures, and truth be told, we’re more than a little afraid of you, because you write for us, even though some of us have ceased to exist on this celestial plane. And although we enjoyed our time chatting, we are going to have to take a pass.

Kari: that’s ok! It was nice watching you chat about me a bit while I talked to myself. I’m going to get a soy pumpkin spice latte now from Starbucks. Care to join me?

Monty python: no, thank you. As Starbucks isn’t invented, and neither were pumpkin spice lattes.

Kari: ok! Maybe in 2020 after the Covid shit subsides a bit.

Monty python: yes. Quite.

Scene, scene... (whisper this one) scene.

The aforementioned scene was not real, nor was it endorsed by the real Terry Gilliam, Michael Palin, Eric Idle and John Cleese. But, I think terry jones and graham Chapman (who is a chap, and a man, making him a double man, which is very manly indeed, loves me, Kari Keillor, for who I am. Not egoic, but loves herself enough to write still, even its for her own pleasure, and to herself. ❤️)

#monty python #funny #mind wide open #kari keillor #self reflection #i get by with a little help from my friends

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oh-boleyn · 5 years ago

Text

anne / infamy

words: 5733, one shot, language: english

anne / jane / katherine / catherine

tw: there are suicidal thoughts, eating disorders (no vomiting), mentions of being acussed of incest, miscarriages, death, being beheaded, trouble sleeping and I don't know what else, tell me if you think I should add something.

it is heavily bassed on my other one shot katherine, but still can read it as a separate thing. it is kind of a character study, or something like that. I haven't read it whole in one sit so it might not be really good but oh well, it’s done.

the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about anne boleyn.

Anne Boleyn – “The Great Whore”

(…)

She suddenly can breathe.

She does it quickly, fearing the air might go out soon. Fixing her eyes, she can see Catherine of Aragon —great, she is like dead— but then she sees Jane Seymour.

Wasn’t she supposed to be alive?

There are three other women, who she has no clue who they are. But the six of them are sitting in a room, and she has a bad feeling in her gut, or maybe is just Jane presence that doesn’t make her any happier.

(…)

The memory of Anne Boleyn has always accreted extraordinary excrescences: an alleged large wart on her face, a fabled sixth finger on one hand, and a whole host of other half-truths.

(…)

They are all living in a house that could only be labeled as too small.

Anne ends up sharing a bedroom with two queens she doesn’t know before arriving in this century. One of them is a total stranger, whose name isn’t even in her mind. She talks half German and speaks about Edward as king and Mary as queen, which is something idyllic Anne never thought will happen. The other one is none other than her cousin.

Her cousin, who is younger, and even in reincarnation she is. Who doesn’t talk as much, and keeps to herself. Her cousin who was a child. She tries her best to make her feel welcomed to the new century, even when she has to put a façade because she is terrified of it too.

Anne is scared out of her mind, but as she was taught, she keeps a smile on her face and a flirty tone in her voice.

(…)

There’s no smoke without a fire and that she was partially guilty.

(…)

The Internet is a great way to look for information, she learns.

She also learns about her daughter, her sweet kid who she left behind. She reads for days, when Anna and Katherine are long asleep, she takes her phone and reads. About the conquers, the golden age, how she was loved, how she never married.

And Anne tries to be happy, she really does try, but it doesn’t work.

There is always a feeling of regret on her chest, of the idea that she might 've been able to see her daughter grow if it wasn’t because she couldn’t bear the king a son.

Boleyn cries silently while trying to make peace with the idea that her daughter was a great monarch, who died five hundred years ago.

(…)

Another might be that she was indeed a loose-living lady.

(…)

Whore was a word that sat heavy on her stomach.

She knew what was, and what wasn’t her fault, but still the cheers when her head hits the ground haunt her in her nightmares, and sometimes during the day.

The first time they do the show, there is tension and anxiety around them, around what they are going to say. She thinks to try and be honest, to really tell her story, but she can’t bring herself to do so. She protects herself saying almost nothing new, nothing outside what anyone could’ve read in a history book, because it’s easier, and it’s safer. It’s better to be an airhead than not having a head at all. Anne doesn’t need the pity of four hundred persons a day like Jane does.

But when they finished their performance, the cheers became so much that she needs to run from there, because she can swear people acted just like the day she lost her head.

(…)

Perhaps Henry’s reactions were harsh by our standards, but they were not irrational.

(…)

“Anne, wake up.” She feels a gentle hand on her back.

Boleyn opens her eyes, trying to take in what she is watching. She is in the kitchen, having fallen asleep on the kitchen table while doing her research on her daughter. The hand comes from none other than Catherine Parr.

“You should go to your room, Kat and Anna might be waiting for you.”

The last queen talks in such a maternal way that makes Anne want to punch her in the face. She had a chance to be Elizabeth’s mother, but instead sent her away. Jeopardized her daughter’s wellbeing, and then sent her away if blogs were true.

(To the very core of her heart, Anne was jealous. Envious of the fact that Elizabeth probably remembered more of Catherine Parr rather than her own mother.)

Anne stood up, going to her bedroom.

“Goodnight Anne.”

“Night, Parr.”

(…)

Anne Boleyn: witch, bitch, temptress.

(…)

When they finally move to a bigger house, Anne takes the attic.

It is the room farthest away from the rest of the queens, which gives her a feeling of release from them. The chance to ignore them as much as she wants. If she could be honest, except for her cousin Kitty, she is not too keen on the rest of them.

There is a voice inside of her that is constantly telling her that they don’t like her either, and that she should probably just ignore them before they do that to her. To have the dominance of the situation.

Having control was always something she craved. The upper hand was nothing else than the final objective. Not controlling things made her feel powerless, numb and weak to the outside world.

So she tried to have everything under her hands.

(…)

Scandal of Christendom.

(…)

“Kitty, I bought new chokers.” Anne says one day, entering her cousin’s room.

“Great.” She responds, smiling.

Her smile looks tight, not quite exactly pleased. Anne gulps and get the accessories on her hands.

“I thought you might like the pink ones, after all you wear a lot of pink.” She passes Katherine pieces of pink fabric.

“And you wear a lot of green.”

“What can I say? It’s my brand.”

She bites down a bitter laugh. That stupid excuse of a poem Henry allegedly wrote to her. About green sleeves.

He wrote her every day, gave her gifts, showered her with affection. Anne would love to remember those days as happy and easier, but instead she was plagued with remembering how the other ladies looked at her, how Catherine of Aragon sat so calmly, calling her a witch who had the fault of everything. She didn’t want it, any of it. Hated being the talk of the court, being the whore.

“Are you okay, Annie?” Katherine asks. Anne tries to put a good face.

“Yes, just Aragon getting on my nerves.” She says, sitting on the younger’s bed. Her words are not a lie, but not the entire truth. “I’m sure she hates me. It’s not news, we have known for like, I don’t know, five hundred years. But I hoped it would change.”

The last of it comes as a surprise, she wasn’t trying to say that. A slip of her mind.

“I’m sure she hates me too.”

“Why would you say that KitKat?” Anne frowns. “Did she say something to you?”

Concern starts rising from inside her. Katherine had nothing to do with her, and her acts from her past life shouldn’t backfire on her little cousin. Her mind works mechanically, going back into memories trying to find a moment of fury between the other two queens.

Katherine talks before Anne can hyperventilate: “No, but I’m sure she is not too fond of me. Mary wasn’t.”

Mary.

Just saying that name brings regrets to her. She should’ve been kinder, better. It was all her fault for not being the bigger person, for not acting like a real adult. That is something she can understand from Aragon, her hate towards someone who was apparently treating her child in an awful way.

She stops her train of thoughts, knowing she is just spiralling into the big nothing.

Anne looks at Kitty and wonders if she would’ve liked her back in their old lives.

“I love this pink.” Katherine breaks the silence.

(She is sure she would, after all, she loves her so much in this life, that she will probably love her in any other.)

(…)

Someone made a film about her sister; she discovers one day while idling on YouTube.

The other Boleyn girl.

Anne does not watch it whole; she doesn’t want to, but there is a scene posted that she can’t ignore. She wishes she could’ve, but instead touches the screen of her phone and regrets it while tears start forming on her eyes.

She quickly goes through the Wikipedia page.

That movie made eighty million dollars.

Eighty million dollars made out of her, of a scene where she is almost committing incest.

She feels sick, down to her very core. Anne feels sick of the idea of someone believing she did that, of people watching her (or not her, but rather someone who is portraying her) do that. She starts crying, losing air quickly and having trouble breathing. Her mind goes from the movie, to the Wikipedia page, to the day she was at the tower, watching George getting murdered.

The feeling of being helpless, impotent, of knowing she will never erase that scene from the mind of whoever saw it. Nobody will ever really, truly believe her she wasn’t the one to fault. The loss of control over her own story breaks her from inside.

Anne does not sleep that night.

(…)

Control stars spreading through her mind, as a plague.

First it is the little things, controlling how much shampoo she used while bathing, or how much money she had saved so far. Then it increases, controlling every hashtag on her social media account, and begging Anna to not post videos of her unless she authorizes them.

She can feel Jane’s glace on her while she reprimands Anna and it’s enough to make her feel disgusted by herself.

But she can’t help it, she needs to be in control of what she does, what other people think of her. Anne goes back to her days in court, and how she had to control what she said, thinking every word that ever comes out of her mouth as if a death warrant is waiting for her at the end of the day.

On 1536, it was.

(…)

A cold-hearted, husband-stealing bitch, who, from the moment she arrived at the English court, had her eyes firmly set on the crown, stopping at nothing to get it.

(…)

Anna sits in Anne's room, while they are going over their clothes, trying to pick an outfit to wear that night. They decided to try a bar for the first time, with music, alcohol and all the other things that are supposed to be in a bar.

“I like this one.” Cleves show the younger a translucent green shirt. “Try it on.”

She obliges, asking the other queen to turn around while she is changing. Her black bra can be seen through the thin fabric of the shirt, and she is relieved when she realizes her jeans are high-waisted. Suddenly while looking in the mirror she feels huge, with the clothes tightly wrapped around her.

“You look hot.”

“You think so?” Anne questions.

“Yes, I love it.”

Boleyn considers it for a moment and wonders if brutally-honest Anna is lying for the first time.

She pushes that thought aside and decides to wear it.

(…)

It is easy to see Anne as some vicious monster.

(…)

Anne sometimes prays, even if she is no longer sure of what God and religion means.

It might be because it’s what she is used to doing, but sometimes the second queen relies on it as the only thing that she can keep from her old life. Nights and nights praying to God for a healthy baby boy that might take the kingdom one day, and secure her place as queen. At some point it changes, asking for forgiveness to her brother and the other men who had been convicted. Her last prayer goes for Elizabeth, begging internally to let her have a life.

Praying never truly works, but it still calms her when things become too hard.

Anne thinks that she only calls it God because she wants to, but calling it destiny, force, or any other term would be the same. People need to believe in something greater than themselves, to try and obtain a calm that would only be granted if you were mad (or sane) enough to be blind against it.

(…)

Anne apparently grabbed Mary’s hair and pulled it in a fit of fury when she found out Mary had married for love to a nobody.

(…)

Control starts haunting her more after the first few months.

The idea of being back in the spotlight is terrifying, counting with how many opinions people have, and how easy it is to distribute it. She knows she can’t control every single aspect of her life, but will try to do so in order to feel more secure.

Anne slowly finds herself eating less and less, and it calms her mind. She forces herself to watch food, be around it, and just eat what her mind needs, not what it wants. It’s a way to overcome temptation, to prove to herself and others that she has the discipline needed.

Sometimes she wonders if it’s healthy or not, or overthinks too much about what she ate in a day, but tries to be as conscious and healthy as she can be, it shouldn’t be a bad thing.

(…)

She appears inconsistent-religious yet aggressive, calculating yet emotional.

(…)

Being in the bar is not as bad as the first time. The loud music and dark atmosphere are quite a view. The tables and the quantity of people make her remember the court, and how the nobles would sit on a celebration, but it is something totally different from what she is used to seeing.

“Anne, what do you think I should drink?” Her cousin asks.

“Nothing too heavy, you are not used to drinking. Maybe something sweet, with fruit.” She searches through the drinks written on the board. “Try a screwdriver, it’s orange juice and vodka. It’s not too sweet nor bitter, you might like it.”

“Corrupting the girl much, Anne?” Anna laughs. “I will ask for one Kat, you can try a sip from mine.”

Katherine smiles tensely, nodding lightly with her head.

“I will have a shot of tequila.” Anne announces to the barman.

The man quickly prepares it, letting it on the table, with salt and a slice of lemon. While Anna asks for her screwdriver, Anne takes the lemon.

Was it lemon, then shot, then salt? Or the other way around?

She considers, letting the lemon back in the counter and taking a pinch of salt, drowning the shot in one move and then getting the slice on her mouth.

“Is it good?” Kat asks, watching the displeasure on Anne’s face.

“I like it, but you should probably start with something lighter Kitty.” She lies.

Tequila definitely doesn’t have a good taste, but it was still good. Strong enough to make her tolerate through the night, but not as much to leave her out of her mind.

“Bloody Mary?” Katherine wonders out loud.

“What?” Aragon moves forward, inspecting the sign with the different cocktails.

She quickly turns around, walking towards the exit. Anne makes a gesture to Anna, commanding her to stay with Kitty while she’s gone. Instead of walking to the exit, she goes back to their table, where Jane and Catherine are talking over their non-alcoholic beverages.

“Aragon just saw that there is a cocktail named Bloody Mary.” She lips, her speech getting slurred for the previous shot. “I would have gone with her, but I think she wouldn’t appreciate it as much.”

Parr quickly takes action, grabbing her purse. “I will go, you did the right thing.” She smiles, a hand reaching for Anne, touch she doesn’t reject.

“I will go too.” Jane says. “Thank you, Anne.”

“Text me if we can help.” Boleyn smiles. “We will text when we get home.”

The two queens disappear, crossing the door while Anne sits. She feels dizzy, clearly a little tipsy, but not enough to make her lose her senses or similar. A concern for the first queen is clearly in her mind, even if she tries to ignore it. Anne shouldn’t care about Aragon, after all they were never friends. The older hated her from the very beginning, even if that was most probably because of her sister being the king’s mistress.

“What happened? Where is Aragon?” Kit interrogates her cousin, sitting with her screwdriver in one hand and another colourful drink in the other.

“Parr and Seymour are behind her; they will text if help is needed. Let’s just relax.”

“If you say so…” The younger says, unconvinced. “We brought this thing, it has strawberry and tequila, want to try?”

(…)

Anne, Destroyer of Marriages and Churches.

(…)

At first, she truthfully had it under dominion.

Anne didn’t think of it as a risk, but speculating how much she was eating became not enough, so she moved on to the next thing, counting calories. A website said that she needed around a thousand eight hundred calories a day, which seemed normal for her, except that another one recommended way less.

She settles for the smaller number, trusting herself and the fact that if she feels bad, going back to eating more wouldn’t be a problem.

(…)

I guess it’s possible that, while in France, Anne learned not just blow-job skills but also black-magic skills. Who even knows what goes on in France?

(…)

They are driving back to the house, but Katherine had been replaced by the other Catherine, Parr.

“Why don’t we put some music?” Anna tries to ease the air.

“I’m really worried about Katherine, I’m sorry but I don’t have the mind space for music right now.” Anne replies, face stern.

“She is going to be okay.” Parr tries to calm her down. “Katherine is strong, we know that. We saw her as queen, and she went through it as graciously as she could.”

There is a silence forming, before Anne decides to break it. “I forget that you’ve known her for longer than I have.”

She releases a dry laugh.

“It’s okay, we can always tell you about our past if you want to.” Catherine says, softer.

“That much is true.” Anna seconds.

“I… I wish to know more about Elizabeth.”

For a moment, Parr faces changes. Anne doesn’t feel bothered by it, instead she feels touched. The survivor’s face had changed from neutral to quasi sad, and the beheaded swears she knows that feeling.

She knows deep inside that blaming Parr for being Elizabeth's mother figure is nothing but wrong. Her daughter truly needed someone, and she was long dead and forgotten. It was hard to rely on what happened with Henry, after all he claimed love. The king moved an entire country just for her, broke England for the Church so they could get married.

It was hard to understand that it wasn’t love, just a sick obsession.

“I will tell you.” The last queen almost whispers.

“Thank you, but tonight let’s focus on Katherine.”

(…)

A downright nasty creature.

(…)

Anne starts feeling faint and unsteady one morning.

She knew as soon as she woke up that it was going to be a bad day. Her stomach was making noise, and twisting and it even hurt. As much as she wanted to eat, she preferred having control. It soothed her, made her feel just numb enough to feel a little more peaceful.

Anne remembered days after the miscarriages. How much her body would hurt, and how it all felt dizzy and slow. When it was worse, time seemed to stop, slow down. Instead of feeling a minute had passed it felt like an hour. Laying in bed was never something she truly enjoyed.

Trying to shake thoughts away, she stood up, her vision going black for a moment. Changing into her clothes was almost hard, but she went through it.

Once downstairs she settles to eat some fruit, trying to reduce the headache she is having. Katherine enters the kitchen looking pale and tired, and grabs a cup of coffee. They talked about it, Anne tried to make Katherine not drink as much caffeine, to reduce or stop drinking energy drinks that later settled bad on her stomach, but she didn’t want to push the matter.

Anne felt bad enough for her doble moral of pushing Katherine to be healthier while she was eating less and less each day.

(…)

The film depicted Anne Boleyn dabbling in witchcraft, taking a potion to bring on the miscarriage of a baby (which turns out to be monstrously deformed) and having a “witch taker” help to bring her down.

(…)

Anne was crying her eyes out in the bedroom, feeling silly and equally foolish.

Losing control and binge eating were just so stressful that once she realized how bad it was, she wouldn’t stop. Instead just losing herself along with her domination over food, to then wanting to beat herself up for it. Along it came losing her temper with Anna, who didn’t exactly do anything wrong except asking if everything was alright.

Her breath was becoming more and more rapidly, letting her gasp for air.

Boleyn was sure of how wrong it was of her to be doing it, to not control herself and stop the goddamn crying. It was unbecoming of anyone her status, and if the court had seen her like this she would have been executed way sooner. She was tired of being a fragile, emotional moron.

Everyone thought of her as someone above it all, calculating and smart, who turned things her way, but people never tried to sincerely try and see beyond it. She was ambitious, sure, but that didn’t mean her emotions were straight up fake. It was also hard to see it nowadays, where people didn’t hold the same opinions of what women should be doing, but still tried to push the witchy temptress narrative on her.

Anne was just incapable of keeping her façade of being strong.

(…)

A downright nasty creature.

(…)

“Anne, can we talk?” Catherine Parr asks, entering the other queen’s bedroom.

“Yes, sure.”

Her heart is beating fast, growing nervous of what the other queen might want to say.

“I want to be straight forward, and I’m sorry if it sounds rude…” the survivor takes a pause. “I have noticed you lost weight.”

Anne’s heart stops suddenly, but she manages to put on a smile.

“It’s just because of the show, working out a lot and eating the same. But I’m okay, truly.” She brushes it with a laugh.

“Don’t lie, please.” Cathy’s eyes water. “I’m worried. A lot.”

“You shouldn’t, I’m okay, and if I ever need help, I will talk to you.” Guilt creeps from inside.

Catherine just nods.

(…)

I also think she deserved to die.

(…)

Anne wasn’t sure if she was still upset and resentful toward Jane or Catherine. Both Catherines.

Once upon a time she hated the plain, blonde woman who just stole her husband and sent her to death, but thinking with perspective, it wasn’t at all Jane’s fault. Jane was no clueless, sweet innocent either, Anne was sure she wasn’t, but she wasn’t guilty. Jane was just like her, saw an opportunity and took it. Her death sentence was formed by not being a noble woman, miscarrying three pregnancies and a man with more power than any man should have.

It was hard to think of the woman as not her rival, but rather a friend. It was also forward probably.

Jane was not perfect, nor a saint. The woman had a range of multiple defects and virtues, as any other of them. She played the game and almost got out victorious, if it wasn’t because God had other plans. Anne found herself liking her more when true colours started showing, discussions, screaming. She might have never truly hated Jane to begin with, but despised how she seemed perfect, something Anne craved her whole life, but instead always failed to do so.

(…)

Today, she would probably be diagnosed as being a sociopath.

(…)

“I think I sometimes hate technology.” Anne says. “Why does it work so low sometimes, I have been trying to get the page to reload for like a minute.”

“Maybe you don’t have patience.” Anna retorts. “Just wait a moment, the internet will come back before you even notice it. Why don’t you sit and eat some apple pie?”

It is sitting on the centre of the table, one slice already eaten. Anne wonders, trying to remember how many calories it could have. Calculations going quickly through her head, but before finishing them she decides to stop. It was wrong, and she was tired of it.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Want some tea?” She moves, preparing everything to heat the water.

“Yes, please.”

Anna grabs another plate, setting a slice of apple pie on it. Catherine enters the room, with a book in her hands and an empty coffee mug.

“I want pie.” Parr states.

“Magic word?” Anne teases the survivor.

“Je t'aime beau cul.”

Boleyn bursts out laughing.

“What? What did I say wrong?”

“You pronounced bad the last part, it’s beaucoup, no beau cul.”

Seeing as Anne still can’t contain herself, Anna proceeds to question: “Why is it so funny? She just messed up pronunciation, it’s not that bad.”

“Instead of saying ‘I love you so much’ she said “I love you, nice ass’.”

It is enough to make Parr chuckle and Anna start giggling.

“Don’t worry, mon petit chou.” Anne grabs a plate and settles another slice of the pie. “A sweet, to a sweetheart.”

She winks an eye to Parr, who can’t contain her smile.

(…)

She was just naive to a very severe scale.

(…)

“Catherine.” Anne calls.

They are the only ones in the house, being Catherine’s night off, and the fact that Anne could barely stand without her blood pressure going really low. Her body was reacting badly to the lack of nutrition, even when she added more calories and food, some days were just awful.

“Yes, Anne?” The older queen asks.

“I wanted to apologize for our past life. I never said it to you, but I’m sorry for what happened. I can’t imagine what being far from Mary could have been, and I shouldn’t have been so cynical about it.”

“It’s fine.” Catherine says, trying to smile. “We were different back then.”

“I am not.” Anne speaks easily. “I haven’t changed. I’m just not a good person and… And I wanted power. I wanted to be queen, to have control.”

“That is not bad.” Aragon tries to go slowly, to not say something she might later regret. “I think that is something we both have in common, control. I wished every night I would have the chance to escape the tower, and I wished for nothing else rather than to be free. I will admit it, being in a high rank gave me that. I always had some control, call it my title or a powerful family member by my side.”

Catherine locks eyes with Boleyn.

“You just wanted to have control over your own life, and not have to sacrifice yourself and your reputation for your family.” She touches Anne’s shoulders. “But you didn’t. We are women, we didn’t have a say in anything. Don’t assume you had control over Henry, because we know that’s not true, but you know what? You can breathe now, he is gone. You don’t have to work so hard for control, because you have it. You are free to be yourself, Boleyn.”

The queen is shaking, almost sobbing. The Spanish kisses her head in a sweet manner.

“And I’m rooting for the day you decide to do so.”

(…)

I'm sure Anne was an inspiration to the Grimms for the character of the evil stepmother.

(…)

Eating starts to get more and more lawless.

Her calorie counting apps are left untouched for days, maybe even weeks, but that doesn’t mean her habits get better, they just get wilder. Eating a lot sometimes, and other days barely touching her meal. It’s not quite better, she knows that, but she feels more at ease. Letting go of her rules it’s a difficult task, and two steps forward and three steps behind is not a good thing, but it’s just the bare minimum.

Getting a medical check up also contributes to how she acts. Apparently, there is something called anemia and the doctor asks her if she lost a lot of blood recently.

(She thinks for a moment if consulting how much blood you lose when someone chops your head off, but decides to go against it and say that she didn’t.)

Iron supplements are quite horrible, and it tastes like blood, mixed with the orange juice she now has to drink every morning. Tomatoes and lettuce were truly better back in the old days when it had actually taste, and wasn’t just watery genetically modified seeds.

It helps with her low blood pressure, and it makes her feel grateful for being able to stand up fast without seeing black dots everywhere. Eating normal seems like a possibility one day, maybe in a long time. Maybe if she can forget about how many calories there are in a gram of fat.

(…)

She was just cruel and crazy!

(…)

“She was smart.” Parr concludes.

They are sitting together outside, being one of the least cold nights of the year. They still have to wear sweaters, but the sky is without a cloud.

“I love her.” Anne smiles. “I remember the last time I saw her. She was so small, still so ladylike. I knew she was destined for something great, even knew it when I was pregnant. That’s why I thought she was a boy, honestly. But just staring at her for the first time I knew she was it for me.”

“She loved you, and she was great. The greatest.” Cathy puts a hand on Anne’s back.

“I wish I had the chance to see her grow up.” Tears start forming in her eyes. “It was my fault.”

“No.” She insisted. “Don’t say that, Henry was insane.”

“I thought he loved me.” A watery smile passes through. “I was foolish enough to think he did.”

There is a silence, and for a moment they stay like that. But the survivor speaks up: “Did you love him?”

“Yes.” Anne states easily. “Or no. I probably didn’t, and he most certainly didn’t either, but I think we both believed we did.”

“Do you love him?”

“No, do you?”

“Never did.”

“Be careful, your neck is quite delicate… I don’t think it would be hard to cut with a sword.”

A sarcastic laugh makes its way to Catherine’s lips. “Funny.”

“Did she love me?” Anne asks, going back to the serious conversation.

“I think she did.”

(…)

Anne May Have Encouraged Her Cousin To Have Sex With Her Husband

(…)

“How was therapy today, Kitty?” She asks, taking a cookie from the jar.

“I think it was good.” Her cousin smiles.

“I’m glad it was, I still don’t understand how it works.”

“You should try it sometime; you love talking about yourself after all.” The younger nervously jokes. “It’s just my advice, but maybe one day you should go.”

“I don’t know, I would rather solve things by myself. But if I ever think I might need it, I will go.”

She smiles, and moves to hug her relative.

“I love you Kit, and I’m happy you feel better.”

“I love you too, Annie.”

(…)

Anne Boleyn was certainly no saint – no person living or dead is – but she was certainly no cold-hearted scheming bitch either.

(…)

Eating never becomes as normal as it used to be.

It’s not about recovery, or getting better, it’s just there are things you can’t forget. When times get hard it’s easy to rely on it, to think about old times as something better, and Anne had too many old times to try and go back to. But she learns how to fall and rise again, time after time.

Things scars. Emotions, feelings, fears. They are no more than scars. Some are visible, her neck when she doesn’t wear chokers is an example of it, but she still shows it. Because she knows there is nothing better than being true to herself, to tell how it was from her point of view.

Control stops being the most important thing, but telling her truth is.

(…)

She came back smarter, stronger.

(…)

“I love you, queens!” Anne says, entering the kitchen one morning.

“What did you do this time?” Parr questions.

“Nothing.” Her voice is small.

“Cousin?” Kitty wonders.

“It might, or might not be my birthday.”

“Ha! I told you, all of you!” Aragon smiles. “Happy birthday, Anne!”

“Ugh, I was sure it was tomorrow, I hate you.” Cleves complains, while moving to embrace the smaller girl into a hug.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? I will go to buy a cake.” Jane is quick to give Anne a kiss on the forehead.

“No! We can go later, now I want to stay here for a while and…” she clears her throat. “I know I never had the best relationship with all of you, but really I’m glad you gave me a chance. And I’m happy I gave you all one too.”

“Annie we love you!” Katherine squeaks.

(…)

From sparking a radical religious reform to giving birth to one of England’s most beloved monarchs, it’s possible that Anne shaped her country more than any queen before or since.

(…)

Anne changes, and she notices it.

She notices how mature she can act, but still be playful and joke around. She learns how to commit errors, how to fail and say she is sorry, and not to hate herself for it. She learns to learn, to not try to outshine everyone.

And for the first time she gets peace, with herself, her body and her story. She stops spiralling into a million questions and “what if”. Anne learns to live with herself, to love what she is and what she is not and stop pursuing an idyllic dream.

She learns to forgive, which is the hardest but most rewarding thing to do when times get hard.

#six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic

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