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maya-caffrey · 1 month ago

Text

Human 101: Cooking

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 2.1 k

warnings: language, self-deprecating humour, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov

summary: human 101 with (y/n) and Connor, a crash course on the basics of humanity, brought to you by sumo and a very sleep-deprived writer (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader has a rampant crush on Connor, as established in Short Circuit, this could be treated as a sequel in spirit or just a standalone.

a/n: thanks for all the love for my previous fic, here's another one <3

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Unlike other deviants, Connor took his time to come to terms with his deviancy. Imagine you live your entire life (even if your whole life was barely a couple weeks) thinking your only purpose was to, say, hunt dogs. What would you do if you woke up one day to find you were the dog all along? This feels like a bad analogy. You get the point.

That kind of revelation would definitely come with its own baggage. I mean, I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like. So even if Connor has finally made his peace with being a deviant, I have made it my life's mission to help him experience the highs and lows of being fully human. Call it Human 101.

Lesson one? Cooking. Sure "Love makes us human" Yeah okay but if you really think about it, it is cooking. Literally no other species cooks. Everyone fucks. Go figure.

"Cooking is fundamental," I told him, as we stood in my kitchen. "It’s like… the ultimate human bonding experience. Families, friends, lovers-" I stopped myself there, flustered, oops, but he didn’t seem to notice. "It’s about creating something from scratch, with your hands. Plus, we get to eat it after. Win-win."

"I should inform you that I already have access to an extensive database of recipes and culinary techniques. If required, I can prepare any dish with precise measurements and optimal timing. There is a less than one percent chance of error."

"Oh, no no," I laughed. "We can't follow recipes, God, no. Cooking is about spontaneity. About chaos. Screwing up is where the fun is."

His head tilted slightly, LED blinking yellow as though he were processing my statement. "You believe the experience is improved by the possibility of failure?"

"Absolutely!" I said, grabbing a whisk from the counter. "It's not just about the taste, you know? You need to spill flour everywhere, accidentally burn the sauce, or switch salt with sugar. That's the human way. You mess up, you laugh about it, and sometimes you end up making something even better than you planned."

Connor stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to reconcile my argument with his programming. "This is… counterintuitive. But intriguing."

"Exactly!" I said, pointing the whisk at him like I’d just solved world hunger. "Now, step one: forget the database. No looking up recipes. We’re winging it."

He blinked at me. "Winging it?"

"Yes. We’re going to use whatever’s in the fridge and figure it out as we go. Trust me, it’ll be great."

He looked at me like there was a loading screen inside his head. "Statistically, this approach has a higher likelihood of failure. That is... good?"

"Exactly." I grinned, tossing him an apron. "Let's get cooking, Wall-E."

Connor caught the apron mid-air, holding it up like it was a wet sock. "Is this truly necessary for the process?"

"Oh yeah, big time," I said, tying my own around my waist. "It’s part of the uniform. Cooking without an apron is like... running a mission without a plan."

That got a faint quirk of his lips. "I wasn’t aware cooking was so strategic."

"It’s not," I said, pulling open the fridge and gesturing dramatically. "It’s pure chaos. Okay, what do we have?"

Connor peered inside with the precision of someone scanning a battlefield. It may as well have been, honestly. "Tomatoes, cheese, leftover chicken, and... two peppers approximately three days past their optimal freshness." No, I am not embarrassed about how I ration. Okay fine, a little bit.

"Perfect. We’re making pizza."

He straightened slightly, tilting his head at me. "A pizza is typically constructed using dough as a base. There is no dough present."

"There will be if we make it from scratch. Flour, water, some yeast if I remembered to buy it... probably. Easy."

As I started rummaging through the pantry, Connor stayed rooted in place, watching me like he was making notes like I'd be quizzing him on pantry rummaging etiquette later. When I turned around, a bag of flour in hand, I caught him staring.

"What?"

"I was considering how often you engage in these… unpredictable approaches. It’s unconventional. Yet, it appears to bring you joy."

I paused, caught off-guard by how earnestly he’d said it. "Yeah, I guess it does. Life’s too short to stress about being perfect all the time, you know?"

Connor seemed to mull that over, but instead of replying, he reached for the bag of flour. "Allow me. The chances of you spilling that are statistically high."

"Oh, wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said, rolling my eyes.

He smiled then- an actual, honest-to-goodness smile that made my stomach do a weird little flip.

We started working on the dough together. Well, I started working on the dough, he was fighting demons. It was hilarious. It was like the dough owed him money.

"Dude, dude, relax. The dough isn't your enemy. You're not interrogating the dough. You need to be gentle with it. We like the dough. The dough is our friend."

"The same way Hank is our friend?"

"Hank is dough, yes."

"Well, Hank is not responding well to my kneading."

Wait. A joke? Was that a joke? Holy shit.

I blinked at him, eyebrows shooting up. “Did you just…?”

His lips twitched, though it was still subtle. “I’m capable of humor when required.” I nudged him lightly with my elbow, the warmth of the moment sinking in. He gave the dough another half-hearted punch, then added, “I don't understand why Dough Hank isn't cooperating.”

“Well, firstly, stop punching it like it owes you money. You have to be gentle. Dough requires finesse.”

He tilted his head, his LED spinning in thought. “Finesse,” he repeated, his hands hesitating awkwardly above the dough.

His struggling with the dough was honestly the most adorable thing I have ever seen. He was trying, he really was, but his confusion from the dough not reciprocating for all his efforts and him not being able to wrap his head around it made for a hilarious staring contest between Dough Hank and Connor. He held it up and stared at it closely, possibly with malicious intent.

Earth to (Y/n), I stepped closer until I was pressed lightly against his side. “Here, let me show you.” Sliding my hands over his, I guided his movements, pressing gently into the dough, folding and rolling it in a smooth rhythm. “See? You’re not fighting it. You’re working with it.”

Connor followed my lead, his hands relaxing under mine. His head dipped slightly, and when I glanced up, I realized he was watching me instead of the dough. I was hyperaware of the fact that I was so close to him and was very sure he could figure out just how nervous I was feeling.

“So, we negotiate with the dough,” he murmured, his voice quieter, almost teasing now.

“Exactly,” I said, laughing softly. “Negotiation is key. Be nice, and it’ll be nice back.”

I watched him start over with dough Hank, this time, more gently. Like he was getting the hang of it. "I think I’m starting to understand," he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?”

"What being human is about," he said quietly, his voice almost contemplative. “It’s about embracing it. The mess, the failure, the laughter. The joy of not being perfect. I quite like the idea of not having to be perfect all the time."

In all honesty, I was not sure how to respond to that. He looked like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders like someone had just told him it was okay to breathe for the first time. And, for a moment, I almost didn’t want to ruin it.

His LED flickered a soft yellow, his eyes- those damn calm eyes- finally looking a little less... distant. It felt like I was staring at the kind of person you’d want to confide in, the kind who’d get it.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “You okay there, Connor?”

He glanced up, that soft smile still hanging on his lips. “I believe so,” he said, voice uncharacteristically light. “I think I’m finally making progress. With understanding humanity. And dough Hank.”

I snorted, quickly covering my mouth to hide the laugh. "Well, dough Hank was a tough nut to crack, but you did it, so good job."

He smiled, like he was proud of himself, and looked so damn cute. I shook myself out of my thoughts and grabbed the rolling pin, ready to get back to work. "Alright, now that we’ve figured out how to negotiate with dough, let’s make this pizza. We’re going all in."

Connor, still looking oddly content, glanced at the ingredients on the counter. "I assume we’ll be using the tomatoes, cheese, and chicken? I’ve been considering possible toppings. The peppers are not ideal."

"Connor, I have no regard for my safety and you don't have a digestive system. I think we'll be fine."

"Suit yourself, (Y/n)." Again. That damn lilt in his voice when he says my name. It's like he knows what it's doing to me. Asshole.

After about 20 minutes, Dough Hank had fully become Pizza Hank and it was finally time.

"Alright, Baymax. Moment of Truth."

"I must ask. What is with the various robot nicknames? Are they terms of endearment?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Noted. In that case, it only seems appropriate to assign you one in return... Sugar?"

"Oh wow, no. God, just, no."

"Sport?"

"Nope."

"Champ?"

"Worse!"

"I'm bad at this, aren't I?"

"Baby steps, C3PO."

I liked this. Banter, his company, this... the whole thing. Whatever it can be called. Watching him discover things I have known my entire life is such an enthralling experience. It's like that one revelation you have when you're like 7 or 8 when you realize that you are alive TM. Except this time, you're watching someone else have it. I don't know if any of this makes sense, but what I do know is that I don't want this to end any time soon.

"Wow, this is disgusting."

Pizza Hank was a pile of dog shit. It was like a troll and an ogre had a baby on my tongue. No self-respecting person would put that in their mouth a second time. My mouth hates me for this.

"I thought failure was welcome. Is it not?"

"Yeah, but this is straight-up nuclear, my guy. I wouldn't eat this if someone paid me money."

"Well, while I cannot taste food the way humans do, I am able to simulate the experience of tasting by analyzing the composition of the food. I could describe it to you if you would like."

"Really? What do you think?" he picked up a slice and confidently took a bite out of it.

"Yeah, this is awful."

I put my hands up in resignation. Cooking was a disaster. I am useless and do not deserve nice things. Pain is eternal and hell beckons.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, this is all my fault."

"Failure, as you pointed out, is part of the process. And it wasn’t a waste of time."

I groaned, dropping onto a stool and burying my face in my hands. "It’s not even edible. We can’t exactly bond over a pile of inedible sludge."

“I don’t think the goal here was actually to cook something edible, was it? From what I understand, it was about experiencing the act of cooking- and bonding with each other. By that measure, I believe we have succeeded.”

I was caught off guard. He thought we "successfully bonded". Please excuse me while I pass away.

"You really think so?"

He nodded while smiling at me reassuringly while putting the mangled remains of pizza Hank back on the plate. "Besides, per my observation, your shift in mood could be a result of hunger."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten anything all day, have I?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You wanna get good pizza and go to Real Hank's place?"

"I would love to. I have been meaning to see Sumo."

cut-scene from the car ride <3

"I just assumed the pizza would be edible. You know? I can call it optimism all I want but that's just a lack of planning."

"Is lack of planning an inherent human trait?"

"Oh, Yeah. Top of the list, actually."

a/n: now I liked Short Circuit more but here's part 2 <3 also yes I took the cooking makes us human bit from another popular tumblr post, i just thought it was hilarious

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #rk800 connor x reader #maya writes #dbh #dbh x reader #connor x reader fluff #dbh rk800 #dbh fluff

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wambsgansshoelaces · 1 year ago

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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azdoine · 1 year ago

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Who Cares If It's Worth The Candle?

Three days ago I wrote an article on some recent rational stories. I had not read any fiction of this kind since the days of Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres, and, since I constantly heard animated discussions of the merits of the rational writers, I was curious to see what they were like today. The specimens I tried I found disappointing, and I made some rather derogatory remarks in connection with my impressions of the genre in general. To my surprise, this brought me letters of protest in a volume and of a passionate earnestness which had hardly been elicited even by my occasional criticisms of Dath Ilan. Of the thirty-nine letters that have reached me, only seven approve my strictures. The writers of almost all the others seem deeply offended and shocked, and they all say almost exactly the same thing: that I had simply not read the right novels and that I would surely have a different opinion if I would only try this or that author recommended by the correspondent. In many of these letters there was a note of asperity, and one lady went so far as to declare that she would never read my articles again unless I were prepared to reconsider my position. In the meantime, furthermore, a number of other writers have published articles defending the rational story: Alexander Wales, Scott Alexander, Eneasz Brodski and Daystar Eld have all had something to say on the subject—nor has the umbrageous Eliezer Yudkowsky failed to raise his voice.

Overwhelmed by so much insistence, I at last wrote my correspondents that I would try to correct any injustice by undertaking to read some of the authors that had received the most recommendations and taking the whole matter up again. The writer that my correspondents were most nearly unanimous in putting at the top was Mister Domagoj Kurmaić, who was pressed upon me by eighteen people, and the book of his that eight of them were sure I could not fail to enjoy was a time loop caper called Mother of Learning. Well, I set out to read Mother of Learning in the hope of tasting some novel excitement, and I declare that it seems to me one of the dullest books I have ever encountered in any field. The first part of it is all about magic as it is practiced in university and contains a lot of information of the kind that you might expect to find in an encyclopedia article on tabletop role-playing-games. I skipped a good deal of this, and found myself skipping, also, a large section of the conversations between conventional scholastic characters: “Oh, here’s Xvim with the coursework. People may say what they like about coursework, but it does go on all through the quarter and make a backdrop,” etc. There was also a dreadful stock student of the undiagnosed autistic kind, with the embarrassing name of Zorian Kazinski, and, although he was the focal character of the novel, being Mister Domagoj Kurmaić’s version of the necessary Phil Connors prisoner, I had to skip a good deal of him too. In the meantime, I was losing the story, which had not got a firm grip on my attention, but I went back and picked it up and steadfastly pushed through to the end, and there I discovered that the whole point was that phenomenal arcane power can’t fix a broken family or mend estranged relationships. Not a bad idea for a character piece, and O. Henry would have known how to dramatize it in an entertaining tale of five thousand words, but Mister Kurmaić had not hesitated to pad it out to a book of seven hundred thousand, contriving one of those hackneyed cock-and-bull stories where the protagonist’s disability is a secret power, and larding the whole thing with details of training arcs, bits of quaint lore from OSR monster manuals, and the awful whimsical patter of worldbuilding.

I had often heard people say that Domagoj Kurmaić wrote well, and I felt that my correspondents had been playing him as their literary ace. But, really, he does not write very well: it is simply that he is more consciously literary than most of the other rational-story writers and that he thus attracts attention in a field which is mostly on a sub-literary level. In any serious department of fiction, his writing would not appear to have any distinction at all. Yet, commonplace in this respect though he is, he gives an impression of brilliant talent if we put him beside Mister Wertifloke, whose The Waves Arisen was also suggested by several correspondents. Mister Yudkowsky has put himself on record as believing that Mister Wertifloke, as well as Mister Walker and Mister Solguard, writes his novels in "excellent prose," and this throws for me a good deal of light on Mr. Yudkowsky’s opinions as a critic. I hadn't quite realized before, though I had noted his own rather messy style, to what degree he was insensitive to writing. I do not see how it is possible for anyone with a feeling for words to describe the unappetizing sawdust which Mister Wertifloke has poured into his pages as "excellent prose" or as prose at all except in the sense that distinguishes prose from verse. And here again the book is mostly padding. There is the notion that unregulated use of power would lead to climate disaster and the collapse of modern civilization, but this is embedded in the dialogue and doings of a lot of self-replicating warrior-magicians who are even more tedious than those of Mother of Learning.

The enthusiastic reader of rational stories will indignantly object at this point that I am reading for the wrong things: that I ought not to be expecting good writing, characterization, human interest or even atmosphere. He is right, of course, though I was not fully aware of it till I attempted Project Lawful, considered by connoisseurs one of the best books of two of the masters of this school. This tale I found completely unreadable. The story and the writing both showed a surface so wooden and dead that I could not keep my mind on the page. How can you care about liberating those damned who have never really been put in torment, because the writer hasn't any ability of even the most ordinary kind to persuade you to see them or feel them? How can you probe the the depths of the characters who surround the protagonist, because they are all simply fodder for dramatic irony? It was then that I understood that a true connoisseur of this fiction must be able to suspend the demands of his imagination and literary taste and take the thing as an intellectual widget. But how you arrive at that state of mind is what I do not understand.

In the light of this revelation, I feel that it is probably irrelevant to mention that I enjoyed The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, by Lurina, more than the novels of any of these luminaries. There is a tinge of black magic that gives it a little of the interest of a horror story, and the author has a virtuosity at playing with alternative hypotheses that makes this trick of rational fiction more amusing than it usually is. I want, however, to take up certain points made by some of the above-mentioned articles. Mr. Munchkin informs the non-expert that the rational novel is a kind of game in which the reader of a given story, in order to play properly his hand, should bring his full attention to the stage. Common sense, it seems, is insufficient: the reader must be versed with Bayesian statistics, game theory, artificial intelligence, theory of mind, and modal realism. This may be true, but I shall never qualify. I would rather read golden age detective fiction, which at least does not involve the consumption of hundreds of ill-written blog posts.

An argument leveled by my interlocutors is that contemporary genre fiction has become so vapid, so abstracted or mass-market, that the public have had to take to the rational story as the only department of fiction where verisimilitude survives. This seems to me to involve two fallacies. On the one hand, it is surely not true that “the common authors of today” - to quote Ms. Neocalico - “have often,” in contrast to the authors of the past, “little or no story to tell,” that “they have allowed themselves to be persuaded that continuity is no consideration.” It is true, of course, that urban fantasy and comics - which, I suppose, must be accounted the emptiest going - have their various modern ways of boring and playing tricks on the reader. But how about the dreadful fanon and reinterpretations that one has to get over in HPMOR? The soft-serve science in Worm? The Deus Ex Machina of Unsong, in which the villain surrenders his cause? Is there anything in first-rate popular fiction quite so gratuitous as these longueurs? Even Rowling and Gaiman do certainly have stories to tell, and they have organized their works with an intensity which has been relatively rare in genre fiction and which, to my mind, more than makes up for the occasional arbitrariness of their narratives.

On the other hand, it seems to me—for reasons suggested above—a fantastic misrepresentation to say that the average rational story is an example of good story-telling. The gift for telling stories is uncommon, like other artistic gifts, and the only one of this group of writers—the writers my correspondents have praised—who seems to me to possess it to any degree is Mr. Alexander Wales. Worth the Candle is the only one of these books that I have read all of and read with enjoyment. But Wales, though in the community he’s lauded as a master, does not really belong to this school of rationalist fiction. What he writes is a work of portal fantasy which has less in common with Yudkowsky than with Stephen Donaldson and Michael Ende - the highbrow isekai which has substituted the blue text of numbers going up for the invisible backdrop of psychodrama. It is not simply a question here of a puzzle which has been put together but of an experience conveyed to the reader, the wonder and terror of an otherworld that is continually revealed in all its varied and unlikely forms. To write such a novel successfully you must be able to invent character and incident and to generate atmosphere, and all this Mr. Wales can do. It was only when I got to the end that I felt my old rational-story depression descending upon me again - because here again, as is so often the case, the explanation of the ontological mystery, when it comes, isn’t interesting enough. It fails to justify the excitement produced by the elaborate buildup of picturesque and sinister happenings, and one cannot help feeling cheated.

My experience with this second batch of novels has, therefore, been even more disillusioning than my experience with the first, and my final conclusion is that the reading of rational stories is simply a kind of vice that, for silliness and minor harmfulness, ranks somewhere between LitRPG and xianxia. This conclusion seems borne out by the violence of the letters I have been receiving. Rational-story readers feel guilty, they are habitually on the defensive, and all their talk about "well-written" fanfics is simply an excuse for their vice, like the reasons that the alcoholic can always produce for a drink. One of the letters I have had shows the addict in his frankest and most shameless phase. This lady begins by pretending, like the others, to guide me in my choice, but she breaks down and tells the whole dreadful truth. Though she has read, she says, hundreds of rational stories, "it is surprising," she finally confesses, "how few I would recommend to another. However, a poor rational story is better than none at all. Try again. With a little better luck, you'll find one you admire and enjoy. Then you, too, may be a rationalist."

This letter has made my blood run cold: so the opium smoker tells the novice not to mind if the first pipe makes him sick; and I fall back for reassurance on the valiant little band of my readers who sympathize with my views on the subject. One of these tells me that I have underestimated both the badness of rational stories themselves and the lax mental habits of those who enjoy them. The worst of it is, he says, that the true addict, half the time, never even learns how to be less wrong. The addict reads not to find anything out but merely to get the mild stimulation of a few shows of wits and of the suspense itself of waiting until the protagonist takes over the world. That this strategy of conquest is nothing at all and does not really explain how to systematically win does not matter to such a reader. He has learned from his long indulgence how to connive with the author in the swindle: he does not pay any real attention when the disappointment occurs, he does not think back and check the chain of reasoning, he simply closes the tab and starts another.

To rational-story addicts, then, I say: Please do not write me any more letters telling me that I have not read the right books. And to the seven correspondents who are with me and who in some cases have thanked me for helping them to liberate themselves from a habit which they recognized as wasteful of time and degrading to the intellect but into which they had been bullied by convention and the portentously performed hijacking of Greg Egan and Charles Stross—to these staunch and pure spirits I say: Friends, we represent a minority, but Literature is on our side. With so many fine web novels to be read, so much to be studied and known, there is no need to bore ourselves with this rubbish. And with the URL shortage pressing on all publication and many first-rate writers forced out of the top 100 on Royal Road, we shall do well to discourage the squandering of this wordcount that might be put to better use.

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honey-beann · 2 years ago

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Ruiner, Ruination (RK900 x Reader)

Chapter One: Naming Nines

Series Masterlist

Series Synopsis:

After Gavin Reed, the biggest asshat in the DPD refuses to work with the newest android detective, the only RK900 in existence, you find yourself being offered the opportunity in his stead. Post successful android revolution, with a very recently deviated android partner at your side, will the two of you gain the same level of success as Hank and Connor, or will your different manifestations of humanity, and all of the feelings that come along with it, get in the way?

AKA: Reader and Nines get partnered up and grow closer over a series of one-shots and random cases.

Will you become RK900's ruination?

Chapter Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,579

"Absolutely not!"

The sounds of shouting nearly made you groan as you slumped down further in your desk, trying to ignore the grown man throwing a temper tantrum clearly visible through the glass just a few yards in front of you.

"Sounds like Gavin found out about his new android partner, huh?"

Muttered one of your coworkers from behind you, and you lamented internally at all of the bitching you were going to be subjected to as a result of this mess. Having your desk situated just a few feet across from Detective Reed's meant having to hear all about his newest complaints and disagreements, even if you had absolutely no interest in them at all. Back when you were still considered a rookie just a year prior, you had hoped this had all been a test, and that you would soon be moved to a less bothersome location, but as time went on with no complaints from you, Fowler appeared to have decided that the arrangement worked just fine as a permanent fixture.

You were less than pleased.

Trying not to be as obvious in your staring as your coworkers, you placed your tablet in your lap, looking up from the blank screen every few seconds to watch Gavin push at some other expensive looking object, his eyes wild with an anger you had grown all too familiar with throughout your somewhat brief time here at the station. Needless to say, you were not a fan of Detective Reed and his childishness, and this extreme act of crazed rage only made you all the more aware of how ridiculous and dramatic he could be.

"All this over some android partner?"

You muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes before returning them down to the tablet in front of you, still blank as you tried to look as busy as possible despite your light work load.

Working in the android crimes unit alongside Lieutenant Anderson, Connor, and Detective Reed had been no walk in the park so far, especially not when the first two made such an incredible team. You and Gavin, on the other hand, had been urged to try your best for a few months, before it was ultimately decided that you both worked best on your own. Or, at least, that's what the amicable write up said. In reality, Reed had made it impossible to work with him over the course of just three months, and after that, you had outright refused a partnership. If you were supposed to receive any form of repercussions for this, they never came, and now, watching Gavin rant and rave through the glass of Fowler's office, you were pretty sure that you knew why.

How could anyone truly expect someone to work well with one of the biggest assholes in the entire city of Detroit?

Yourself and the rest of your coworkers watched on for a while, as Gavin continued to argue his case against a potential asset to his one man show of a team, rolling your eyes jointly at his dramatics until finally, Fowler put his head in his hands and exasperatedly motioned for your desk neighbor to leave. Begrudgingly, you watched as Reed did just that, grumbling something under his breath that had your boss glaring at his back as he exited the room.

Everything was quiet as Gavin approached the desk across from yours once more, and everyone tried to look as busy as possible despite the obvious lack of commotion within the usually busy police department.

You relished in that near silence for a few minutes, before suddenly, Fowler's angry voice sounded from just outside of his office door, his glare fixated on Gavin despite you being the only person he was talking to.

Damn, Gavin really had pissed him off, huh?

"Detective L/n!"

He shouted, and you swallowed thickly before standing at once, nodding in his direction to show that you were listening, At the sight of an actually obedient employee, Fowler seemed to calm a bit, although you noted that his hands were still clenched into fists as he spoke,

"How would you like your very own android partner?"

Shocked, you stared at your boss as if he had lost his mind, fighting the urge to ask him if he was sure he had the right person. You were just barely out of rookie status, nowhere near important enough to have earned an android of your own. But, then again, Gavin had blown it, and the unit needed more hands on experts, whether Gavin wanted to work with one them or not, so in the end, you were pretty much the only other option if they didn't want an android going about solving crimes alone.

Swallowing back your various questions and concerns in favor of simply answering the question at hand, you nodded once at your superior,

"It would be crazy of me to say no to an opportunity like that, sir."

You replied as cooly as possible, taking note of the way that Gavin sneered from his seat across from your own as he rolled his eyes at your words. He had called you a kiss ass since your arrival, but truthfully, you just knew when to use the right kind of language with the right kind of person, unlike the incredibly annoying detective you had been forced to call your partner just a few months back.

"Good. Glad to hear there's at least one sane person in the damn Android Crimes Unit."

He grumbled that last part before clearing his throat and speaking up once more,

"Your assigned model is an RK900, the only one in existence. It was originally created as a prototype advanced deviant hunter, but ever since it's... deviance a few months prior, along with the results of the android revolution, employment in a separate area started being considered. You will guide this android in your field work, and maintain a professional relationship with him regardless of your differences, do I make myself clear?"

Shocked to have heard Fowler address this in front of everyone rather than in a private meeting, you nodded quickly and eagerly in response to his words, watching as your boss signed in relief and ran his hand across his face.

"Good. The model was brought by for tuning and integration this morning. He should be by your desk promptly."

Shocked, you opened your mouth to reply, maybe even ask a few questions, but before you could Fowler had returned to his glass enclosure, picking his desk phone up and dialing a number quickly, his shoulders tense and eyebrows drawn together.

Maybe right now wasn't the best time for questions regarding your new android partner.

Sighing, you sat back down once more, trying not to look nervous as you stared back down at the blank tablet on your desk once again.

That is, until a voice, slightly familiar, and somehow also incredibly foreign to you spoke up from your right.

You yelped in response to the sudden sound, jumping in your chair and twisting around to all but gawk at the intimidating man who stood before you.

He looked incredibly similar to Connor, but somehow the slight differences made him seem like a completely different person, and you could tell by the cold expression on his face that they would in no way be sharing similar personalities. Where Connor Anderson, the RK800 model who had deviated nine months ago, was warm and friendly, always ready to ask about your day, this RK900 model was clearly cool and calculated, his gaze consistently disapproving no matter where or who it happened to fall upon.

And to be the subject of said disapproval? It made you shiver before you could even speak up, giving the android in front of you the opportunity to do so first.

"Hello Detective L/n. I am an RK900 prototype built for the purpose of tracking down and dismantling deviants such as my predecessor. That being said, my previous function has been rendered inconsequential due to my status as deviant, and therefore, I have gained employment here, alongside the RK800 model known to you as Connor, in order to support the DPD in the development of android crimes. I understand that you are to be my partner in this task, is this correct?"

You blinked, shocked at the robotic tone of the supposed deviant who stood before you. You stared for a moment, taking in the crisp white jacket that adorned the android's shoulders, and the blinking model number that could be seen on his chest. He was incredibly intimidating, several inches taller than Connor, and far less friendly. It was as if this android felt no reason at all to utilize it's social interaction protocols, and you couldn't help but wonder if that was yet another unexplored area of deviancy.

Slowly, as if unsure of your own actions, you reached your hand out to the android in front of you, clearing your throat as you did so, trying to shake your nerves and muster up the courage to speak.

"I look forward to working with you..."

You trailed off hesitantly, your heartbeat quickening as you felt the unfamiliar chill of the RK900's hand against your own, that gaze never leaving you as your hands interlocked, shaking in greeting slowly,

"Is there something wrong?"

The RK900 model in front of you asked slowly, his words clearly enunciated and incredibly probing as they passed the artificial pink skin of his lips.

"I, uh, I guess I don't know what to call you."

The android quirked it's head in curiosity before it seemed to understand your words, and nodded,

"Ah, yes, your RK800 model-"

"Connor"

You corrected immediately, knowing how much the android in question disliked being called by his model number, your nerves leaving you for the briefest of moments as you stood up for your friend.

"Right, your... Connor"

The RK900 spoke slowly this time, as if testing the way that the sentence sounded in his ears, and you almost smiled at how much it reminded you of his predecessor.

Suddenly, as if he had been enlightened with the correct words to say, the RK900 model cleared his throat, and spoke up again,

"My predecessor, Connor as you call him, goes by a name. This name was given to him upon his distribution, in order to make him more relatable and easy to trust. I was not built to be trusted, nor related to. To put it simply, Detective, I was built for the purpose of destruction, ruination if you will, and that of my own kind in particular. Therefore, I was not given a name as Connor was upon the start of his mission."

You nodded softly, gazed upward at the oh so familiar stranger that stood above you,

"Right, I guess that does make sense... In that case, can we give you a name?"

You asked, tilting your head in question as the android before you stiffened a bit, quirking a brow in response,

"You wish to name me?"

He asked, and you shrugged softly, trying to ignore the heat that was building in your cheeks,

"Well, not exactly. You can pick it if you want to, I just want something to call you that isn't as long as your model number."

Nodding in understanding, the RK900 thought for a moment, before finally reaching what to him was the most logical conclusion.

"I will allow you to choose, since you are so keen on my having a new name to go by as your partner."

You could have sworn you saw the android smirk a bit as he spoke these words, but you shook it off and started thinking hard about potential names for the man in front of you.

This train of thought lasted far longer than you had ever initially anticipated, and eventually, you found yourself groaning out of frustration, hunched over a notepad at your desk two hours after your initial meeting with your new partner.

"Nicholas?"

You offered hopefully, and the man in front of you shook his head for what had to be the one hundredth time that day, that shadow of a smug grin forming on his lips as he met your gaze again from the desk attached to your own, which he had made himself comfortable at shortly after his arrival.

"It just doesn't suit me."

He explained wryly, and you fought to roll your eyes in exasperation as he utilized the same excuse he had been using for the past twenty names. He had a reason to hate everything.

Sighing heavily, you moved to bury your head in your hands, rubbing at your cheeks before you let out an annoyed huff, glaring over at your new partner.

"Two hours in and you're already impossible."

"Oh, on the contrary, Detective."

The android's response was immediate, long and drawn out as he leaned forward so his elbow was on your desk rather than his own, his smirk predatory in a way that made you almost feel frightened as you swallowed thickly while desperately trying to come up with a new name.

"I think I am being quite cooperative. I mean, I've hardly said a thing about that untouched work load of yours."

He finished teasing, and you shot him another glare, as you stood to pace before your shared desk space.

"Well fine then, if a regular name doesn't work, how about something different?"

You asked exasperatedly, and the RK900 leaned forward towards you in what appeared to be mock anticipation,

"Different you say? Go on then Detective, what do you have in mind?"

You thought for a moment, struggling to think of anything, before finally, your eyes fell on that glowing model number upon his jacket, and finally it hit you.

"Nines,"

You breathed out the name as if it were a prayer, and the android in front of you seemed to hum in response, watching you intently as your gaze moved to meet his own once more, challenging and unwavering.

Just what he was hoping to see.

"I like it."

He said after what had felt like an entire minute of deliberation, and you whooped victoriously and jumped excitedly about the small office in response to those three short words, your grin wide and splitting your face in two.

He watched, annoyed by your strange actions, yet somehow also entertained by how improvised and sudden all of your reactions felt to him.

Were all humans like this? If so, this job would get exhausting very fast.

Eventually, you slowed back down and had the sense to look a bit bashful as you sat across from the RK900 - 'Nines' once more, clearing your throat awkwardly as you started to look at your completely empty tablet for what felt like the one millionth time that day.

"I do hope you know that tablet has been depleted of battery life, Detective."

Nines' voice was laced with a bit of humor and cruelty as he spoke, and you groaned internally upon being caught.

You couldn't find the correct words to respond with, so instead you turned your face away from the man sitting on the other side of your desk, trying to focus on anything else but this near stranger who was supposed to be your partner sometime in the near future.

How were you ever going to make it through this with your sanity?

AO3 Link

Series Masterlist

#DBH x reader #rk900 x reader #nines x reader #nines x reader series #rk900 x reader series #dbh rk900 #connor dbh #dbh blog #dbh fics #rk900 fics #rk900 series #dbh series #dbh nines x reader #dbh connor #ruiner ruination #DBH connor x reader #detroit become human connor x reader

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 5 months ago

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Ive been watching Frankenstein movies again (I think I'm gonna have to make some kind of something about it, but I also have never made a video for the internet before so... To be determined?)

Anyways- I have a new recommendation for Frankenstein nerds with time on their hands! And I haven't seen much about it?? Maybe I'm not looking hard enough, but even the 1994 Kenneth Branagh version has something of an audience, and I think this one deserves at least that amount of attention.

Drumroll please!!

"Frankenstein" 2004, Directed by Kevin Connor

Now I think the reason this one is so unwatched is because it's actually a TV movie broken into two "episodes". The whole thing is about 3 hours long. And weirdly enough, aired on Hallmark??? But guys it's like. Really really good. Like, REALLY really good.

Some highlights for me personally include:

Henry Clerval! He's here! He's jolly! He's a little bit of a menace! Genuinely though he has a wonderful sense of charm and charisma to him, which works really well against the naturally more serious and dramatic Victor. Plus he's a history nerd with a bad relationship with his dad who doesn't want him to go to college. So naturally he hops on Victor's carriage mid-ride to Ingolstadt. What a guy

Elizabeth! Her relationship with Victor feels natural, but she also feels like her own person. Also they don't frame it like they're siblings (looking at you Kenneth). It feels more like they're childhood sweethearts who happen to live together, there's never a point where they refer to each other as siblings, there was never an intention from the parents to make them siblings, it just feels way less icky than many other adaptations. (It's still kinda weird though just on principle) I think she could've been explored more but she's fun when she's on screen. She paints, she jokes around, she has goals and expectations, I like her.

The portrayal of Victor is one of the most successfully sympathetic I've ever seen. It is very very easy to make Victor an asshole. Which he is, but it's easy to make him the wrong kind of asshole. Petty and vindictive, eager to run away from responsibility and denying the consequences of his actions. That's not him here. It's more that he's overwhelmed. He's completely over his own head. There's a lot of emphasis put on the fact that Victor is mentally unwell after his experiments. He's completely broken himself down, the minute the lightning thing doesn't work he flies into a rage. And then when the Creature starts breathing, he sees it for a few seconds and then blacks out. As far as he knows, he hallucinated the thing getting up (and he continues to experience paranoid hallucinations throughout the story, it's not a one time assumption). He still abandons the Creature, but it's not because he hates it, it's because he's exhausted and overwhelmed and literally doesn't know what's real. And that goes a long way in making the two feel equally sympathetic, which I think is very important.

This portrayal of The Creature is also one of the most successfully compelling I've ever seen! His performance is very gentle and quiet, which I think makes his rage and torment all the more intense. It's pretty common for the Creature to speak in a deep growl or low-toned monologues, but Luke Goss keeps his voice light and soft, which really really works. Plus I think his makeup and costuming is excellent. They stick way closer to the book description. He has a very pretty well-shaped face, but his skin is dry, grey, and cracked. His eyes are bright but sunken in shadow, and stitches poke out from just under his hairline. At the same time it's believable that Victor designed him to be beautiful, and that strangers would find him unnerving.

It's definitely too long, but it's a good time! You can also just find it on YouTube for free so, bonus points for that

#frankenstein #hallmark frankenstein #frankenstein 2004 #circus of hubris ridden victorian british men #frankenstein movie

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nerdle-turdle · 5 months ago

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watching the Andrew Barth Feldman slime tutorial here's some things I've noticed:

Evan immediately gave off the vibe of a very sweet, dorky guy.

He sounds very cheery with undertones of being sad, like he's trying to convince himself that it's going to be okay. It seems more like he actually is trying with the letters, and not that he's being forced to do them.

Heidi sounds more aggravated and standoff-ish?

"Neither do I :("

Connor is extra sassy.

Jared seems equally nerdy as Evan does. He's less mocking, but still retains his snarkiness.

When Jared comments on Connor's hair, his "it was a joke?" Is him backpedaling, not being annoyed with Connor.

The push was so gentle it was kind of funny

"no. me? no way. :) Jose."

"would anybody notice if I—" there was a long pause, like he was thinking through his next words. "—disappeared tomorrow?

"Cause there's Zoe!☺️..." reads for a moment. ".....is this about my sister????"

Cynthia and Larry are usually fighting, but in this one they are borderline signing divorce papers whenever they talk.

Evan starts hyperventilating in the principals office.

"That was an emergency landing.😐😐😐"

It's probably the low quality but he kind of looks like Daniel Thrasher in some parts

"THEYRE GONNA WANNA SEE OUR EMAILS!" "*dramatic gasp* you think?"

"YOU, OKAY, IT SAYS C O N N O R. ON YOUR—"

He sounds so excited for taco Tuesday :((

"I'm sending pictures of the most amazing trees—" *cue Jared cackling*

"MY sisters HOT" "whAUHT THE HELL😨😨😨😨"

Zoe's feelings toward Connor are different, I can't pinpoint how exactly.

he didn't actually kiss Zoe

He didnt get up off the ground until he looked at Connor's signature.

Overall, his Evan isn't as sarcastic and bitter as Ben Platt's, and he's more generally awkward but he doesn't struggle as much? Does that make sense? Probably not. But anyway, I love both of their versions for different reasons and will update on act 2 tomorrow.

#dear evan hansen #deh #andrew barth feldman

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accirax · 6 months ago

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initial thoughts on DCAS episode 15

good job Ally... couldn't be me :,)

Alec that's incredibly dangerous you're going to CHOP OFF YOUR HAND--

oh, the sinking feeling in my chest when (approximately) this was revealed to be the thumbnail. i figured that, if Riya changed her mind and decided that she actually liked Alec, that would have been a spoiler to conceal, so this was going to be manipulation of some sort. before anyone comments on it, i just want to say that i don't think this was assault on Riya's part-- it was a shitty thing to do to both Connor and Alec, but i don't think Alec was necessarily non-consenting. still, i have a hard time seeing how Alec and Riya are supposed to cut it as a non-toxic canon ship after this. RIP Connor.

are people who are fans of ~characters who haunt the narrative~ fans of Yul?

i'm sorry Ally; i didn't know better!!! you really did have no personality in s2!!!!

... do we need to be nicer to ONC or something?

if you want to continue working with Riya and Alec why would you say this to their faces? well, i guess keeping her honest opinions to herself has never been Grett's strong suit :) (/aff)

if i'm not allowed to be a whiny bitch, YOU AREN'T EITHER! Connor and Jake's dynamic is really fun; it makes me like both of them more.

props to Jake's VA, the slight country accent here was so funny to me

very bold! even if she then decided to violate that trust...

what the fuck are you talking about

my 1 social media manager. and yes, she smokes weed.

i'm so curious to know where this is going. don't do anything stupid, Trevor. like Kristal putting the firing of Emily on national TV was a terrible thing to do, but don't go back to jail over this (or Derek).

i want to believe that Derek was super overacting here to impress Kristal and prop up how good and dramatic her challenge idea was. he's a dork when it comes down to it.

HELP

this was literally the funniest way to have Jake win this challenge. it's accurate, too.

dude did you not see when Ally literally said she was in love with Hunter like a week after meeting him

sharing a comment that @venus-is-thinking had: given that Alec answered the question about loving his son thinking that the answer was "yes" but the helmet could tell that the answer was really "no," it seems like these helmets are more about determining the truth rather than sharing what the wearer thinks is the truth. Riya even fails to fake the machine later, implying that her acting is NOT good enough to fool the helmets. thus, Riya may have actually wanted to befriend Ally for real, and is lying to herself about how she feels. food for thought!

so they DID actually go on dates after s2 ended. does Riya's answer to this question suggest that conriya(?) is back on? i really don't know if that's good for either of them.

... idk what this says about my Hunter lifting math ',:/ also, this means that each bag weighs 30 lbs, as Grett was holding 4 bags at the time. people were lifting a lot!

i think Jake is contractually obligated to pull out the shiny eyes at least once per episode at this point. also, Ally, you fool-- these questions themselves ARE Jake's opportunity to trauma dump on people for profit!

... well that was fruity!

WHO TAUGHT HIM???

Riya expanding her catalogue to push even the straights off of things... unless?

Alec really has become such a failwife in these past few episodes.

Connor winner edit jumpscare

this is kind of a slay alliance ngl. i love Grett's villainous tendencies so much. (well, at least when it comes to strategizing-- not bullying Gabby)

so, as i've been alluding to throughout these thoughts, this doesn't... super make sense to me? like, after Grett directly told Alec that she doesn't trust him or Riya anymore, and extended the idol to Connor and Jake as a sign of trust, she decides to backstab the heroes anyway and continue working with Alec and Riya? Venus explained to me that if Grett joined the villains alliance with Aiden still in the game she just would've been on the bottom of that alliance (and thus locked out of f3 probably), and that she'll be in enough of a power position that it doesn't matter if others are bitter towards her now, but idk. given that Connor has the idol and she knows it, i feel like i'd be afraid that everyone would just unite against me next episode. anyways, goodbye Aiden-- finally voted out after, what, 27 episodes played? a true all star, but one who pretty clearly wasn't going to last forever.

Aiden was so funny for this. i love their friendship of continuously roasting each other. it's what we wanted and deserved.

overall, this was a GREAT episode for Grett's winner cut.

i definitely enjoyed this episode much more than i did the last. we had a really good challenge this time around! i love challenges that also give us information as to how the contestants feel about each other. i'm also glad that we've officially dissolved the heroes and villains thing, simply having three pairs of Alec/Riya, Jake/Connor, and Ally/Grett. i'm sure that'll make for a spicy elimination next episode, especially with an idol in play. we're really at 50% finalist now... i can't wait to see who makes it!

#disventure camp #disventure camp spoilers #dcas #dcas initial thoughts #happy for James this episode. obviously watching the elim would suck for him #but now he finally gets to be reunited with his bf!!! a little vacation before they... resume going on vacation as their jobs #whatever; loser's motel tiktok time

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ella-norah · 7 months ago

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Ella watching Love Sea episode 1 (part 1)

Finally having some free time (exam weeks are hell as usual) and i decided to watch the first episode of Love Sea. And I also had an idea to share my thoughts after each episode, so well - here it is.

One thing that caught my attention is the way Mut run his hand through his hair and well, I'm gone from this world.... How can someone be so hot doing it??? (the images below are my very interesting screenshots)

Also, I already love Rak! He is so pretty!!

Rak's reaction when he realizes Mut's the one picking him up is so funny to me. Of course, I understand where Rak's coming from (he's from a big city, he's not used to small town dynamics yet).

More of Mut running his hand through his hair - that's gonna make me feral whenever I see it... at least I think so

Mut's solution is definitely good, but Rak's not happy about it, is he?

Rak is so perfectly dramatic and I love him for it!

Mut's smile is absolutely gorgeous! (Fort's is too, when I am at it!)

More of Rak's dramatics, which I completely love without a single doubt about it. The phone call and multiple repeats of how he wishes to go home are absolutely perfect. Rak's dramatic, so deliciously dramatic, and I am so here for it!

The way Mut just casually picks Rak's suitcases and carries them behind Rak, without Rak even paying any attention to it - amazing! Even when Rak calls Mut an idiot during the phone call with Connor and Mut just smiles shaking his head. Gosh, I already love these two so much.

Mut, darling, I adore you! He just took Rak's phone without a single care about it - perfection! purest perfection there is! and the smile Mut gives Rak - *screaming internally*

While Connor and Mut speak, Rak is positively fuming - so annoyed that they talk about him, while he can't do anything to stop them.

But to be fair, having his expression be called "kitty eyes" could definitely annoy Rak more.

The island being called Heaven on Earth is so suitable! The visuals are absolutely gorgeous - the beach, the ocean, the nature! Everything's so gorgeous! I'm in love honestly!

No wonder Rak's reaction is teary eyes and simple comment of how beautiful. (I agree, Rak, I agree)

The way Mut keeps using southern dialect of Thai to speak to Rak - such a tease Mut is! Love that about him! Especially since he used the central dialect to speak to Connor.

So quick to chase Mut away, are you, Rak? Would that even work?

But also, not understanding what Mut is saying is quite a problem, isn't it?

Is Rak really that mean, huh, Mut?

After all, it's not Rak's fault he doesn't understand you, Mut, is it? But yes, Rak has a very pretty face.

Oh, my!! Already getting under Rak's skin! That's gonna be interesting!

A few deep breaths should definitely help, shouldn't they?

Mook's appearance makes me smile so much! She's a cutie, and she's very hard-working!

Aya speaking in English is such a good detail - she's a very good secretary!

And I adore her smile - it's such a beautiful smile!

Poor darling, she's so overwhelmed already - and it's just the first day.

Oh, and Chanya's appearance as Vi - she's such a gorgeous woman! And obviously means business.

Poor Mook, she is definitely not happy about being ordered around by Vi. And no one listens to her, poor sweet girl.

I love that Palm is all like - what a beautiful man, he's just my phi's (Mut's) type and then Rak is all like grumpy about Mut.

This moment, when Rak looks aside and says "Who would want to know?" is reminding me of Sky so much!

Rak trying his best not to look interested in what Palm is telling him, but he still failed at one moment, when Palm mentioned that Mut is open to guys too. Of course Mut is somewhat of an island celebrity and of course that everyone finds him so hot and swoons over him. That doesn't surprise me one bit.

Still fighting it, Rak? Well, not that I'm surprised about it, but still. It makes me giggle. It's gonna be so damn good when Rak finally gives in. And what drama would that be if it's too soon.

For someone who's not interested in Mut, Rak is definitely not letting Palm leave. so interesting

Why would Palm think Rak would be interested? Hmmm.... maybe because he's just trying to talk all the best about his phi? Or maybe because Rak is showing more interest than he thinks.... all the possibilities there are endless

I love how Palm is so pleased with himself! Like aaaaaaaaa, man, you are so pleased, that smirk says it all!!! And I love the slogan - The treasure of this island goes by name Mahasamut. It is such a cool slogan.

Honorable mention to the poor pen that fell into the ocean in the beginning of the show, left there and forgotten. RIP pen (i laughed so much about this, maybe too much...)

Because it's so late, I'm gonna stop with part one now. Watching this episode feels much longer than I planned (maybe because i keep replaying the scenes... just maybe), but anyway, part two of the the episode will come tomorrow, at some point of the day.

Peat is absolutely gorgeous in this show! I am losing my mind over how gorgeous he is!

Actually, I am losing my mind over this show in general!

#love sea #love sea the series #tongrak x mahasamut #tongrak #mahasamut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthurn #love sea episode 1 #aya orapan #chanya amarit #ella watches shows and rambles about them

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grayskies2525 · 1 month ago

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An Admirable Denial |M/M| Part 9

Word Count: 5,714

Link to all parts: An Admirable Denial (14 parts)

Content Warnings:

A very small injury happens at the beginning and there’s mention of blood, but it doesn’t get descriptive

Some homophobia toward the end. I don't go in-depth but it couldn't be avoided.

Some pretty heavy family toxicity stuff

When Connor wakes up the next morning, through bleary eyes, he sees Felix fast asleep next to him in bed. Connor ignores the congestion that has taken even firmer residence in his chest and sinuses, as he lets himself simply stare at his boyfriend. Felix is more an amalgam of blankets and sheets than an actual human being, but this is Felix’s typical state in the morning. Connor smiles at the comfort the familiarity brings, even as he resists shivering from his own body being only half-covered in blankets. No matter how many in-depth conversations they’ve had about this issue in the past — how Connor is also a person, and therefore, also gets cold, and would be quite appreciative of Felix at least making an attempt to share the covers — his words never seem to take. After a year in New York with all the blankets and covers he needed during the night, Connor can confidently say, having Felix next to him is undoubtedly worth the tradeoff.

As if sensing his thoughts, Felix, in his typical mole-like fashion, manages to somehow burrow even more deeply into the covers. This, of course, results in more being taken away from Connor. Connor just sighs; he needs to get up anyway, since mornings with Felix demand having a full pot of coffee made before Felix wakes up. Connor’s always been amazed by Felix’s ability to prioritize coffee first thing in the morning over anything else — even using the bathroom.

After putting on his glasses, Connor stands up — then instantly sits back down. Knowing full and well rooms aren’t supposed to spin, he figures he must definitely still be in the “horrendously and pitifully sick” phase of this flu. He closes his eyes, letting his head rest in his hands a moment before slowly standing up, grasping the nightstand in case he loses his balance.

Connor never would have considered, prior to this week, the task of walking to the kitchen to be a task of Herculean proportions. Yet, here he is now, leaning against the refrigerator as he tries to catch his breath. He coughs, deeply and wetly into his arm. He feels that familiar tickle burgeoning in his sinuses that he's growing to detest.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance at his own body. He feels almost angry at it. If he has to feel so exhausted and weak, why does it also insist he have violent paroxyms that leaves him gasping for breath?

“HH! Heeehhh!”

Connor stays slumped against the refrigerator, feeling his nose flare and chest heave desperately. His body seems to be making him work for the sneeze this morning, which is the absolute last thing he feels like doing.

“HEEHHH! Hhhhhhhhh!”

His hitching breaths trigger a rough, wet fit of coughing. Watery-eyed and light-headed, he stumbles toward the trash can to dispel the unfortunate phlegmy misery his body decided to conjure during the fit.

Wrongly assuming his body must surely be done with its dramatics of the morning, he finally begins the actual process of making coffee. As he holds the water-filled carafe to dump into the machine, he suddenly lurches violently forward.

“HRRR’SHUUUHHH! HRRRR’SHOOOO! HRRGGG’SHUUH!”

The sneezes are loud, painful, and unfortunately productive. There is mess everywhere. There’s of course the mess that came from Connor’s own, beleaguered body that he attempts to manage by holding an arm across his face. But he’d also lost his grip on the carafe, which had fallen at exactly the wrong angle, resulting in shattered glass and water spread out along the floor.

He stands, trying to force his foggy thoughts to come together to devise a safe route out of the kitchen — one not resulting in stepping on glass shards. As is becoming a pattern, he has to cough first. He keeps coughing with his arm still placed firmly over his dripping face.

He takes a shaky breath as the precursor to what he assumes will be another massive fit of coughing. His lungs, though, change course at the last second and he instead finds himself launching into another body-bending sneeze.

“HAAAAAAAH-RRRSHUUUUUUH!”

Now, his face is even more of a mess than before and before he can even process how to navigate this situation, he’s thrown into yet another coughing fit. He has an odd moment of envy as he thinks about how if he had Felix’s small frame, instead of his own 6’4 one, then surely his body wouldn’t have the strength for such violence. He’s not actually sure if that line of thinking even makes sense, but the thought is there, nevertheless.

This is how Felix finds him — bent at the waist, coughing violently with glass shards surrounding him. Connor finally takes a clear breath as he sees Felix walking toward him.

“No! Felix, there’s glass!” he shouts through his raspy voice, but in his effort to prevent Felix from walking forward, he’d inadvertently taken a step forward, himself.

He lets out an expletive — which one, he couldn’t even say. All he knows is he just did something extremely stupid and has to vocally express as much. After reflexively pulling his foot up from the floor, he stumbles ungracefully toward a kitchen chair before finally dropping into it.

Felix, in his own uncharacteristic display of grace, manages to hurriedly maneuver across the water and glass covered floor without so much as a slip.

Felix stoops down to the floor, frowning deeply, as he gently takes Connor’s foot in his hand without any hesitation. Connor grimaces, not from pain — he doesn’t think he pressed too firmly on the glass before his reflexes kicked in. But the entire situation — the disgusting state he’s in and the mess he’s created around himself — is the exact kind of nightmare scenario he’d never wish to be in in front of someone.

“Okay, so, it’s not bad,” Felix says, looking up to meet Connor’s gaze, his face etched in concern despite his words. “I mean, there’s some blood, but it’s definitely not deep,” he says, attempting to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So no impromptu hospital trip is needed on this fine morning, I’m happy to say. But,” he starts, his face losing a bit of its obviously contrived composure. “I do, uh… see a tiny sliver of glass in the cut.. But, it’s okay,” he says quickly. “Just stay put and I’ll get some tweezers, and Nurse Felix will have you fixed up as good as new, okay?”

Connor stares at his, eyes wide in alarm. Several memories flash before him all at once.

The one Thanksgiving they spent together with Felix’s family when Felix dropped the pumpkin pie, sending it to a premature demise.

The time they were playing Jenga with Shauna and some of their other friends when Felix managed to knock over the entire tower with his elbow by accident, before he ever even got the chance to remove one of the blocks.

The time Felix was making chili and put a wooden spoon in the food processor while it was still on, resulting in little wooden shards being launched into the air like shrapnel.

“Felix, you are not coming near my wound,” Connor states firmly, as his mind continues conjuring up horrors from his past with Felix.

Felix rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’ll do a much better job than you could. You already look like you’re about to —”

Before Felix can complete his thought, Connor’s back to sneezing into his hoodie sleeve, which must be rapidly becoming something of a playground for his little flu germs. It was, predictably, another messy, productive sneeze. As involved as his nose was in the process, he’s surprised that his chest played a significant role in the sneeze too, causing it to hurt. Connor immediately is thrown into a coughing fit while he helplessly watches Felix navigate their kitchen, which now resembles more of a sea — a sea scattered with glass shards. The water that had spilled from the carafe is forming little streams between the cabinets and table legs.

Felix comes back with multiple towels, as well as a first aid kit. Connor is glad to see the towels because they really need to get a handle on this water situation. He’s surprised to see that Felix isn’t immediately laying the towels down to soak up the mess, but is instead heading over to Connor.

Felix is holding out a towel, expectantly. Connor, still holding his arm over his wet face, tries to give an expression still conveying his confusion.

Felix just rolls his eyes. “For your face, silly.”

Connor continues staring at Felix with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes. “You think I need a whole towel?” he asks, voice muffled by his arm.

“Well, I was going to bring tissues, but couldn’t find them. And, uh, don’t be mad, but you look like you’ve got a situation going on that’s getting kind of unmanageable. So, I really think you should just take the towel, babe.”

Connor’s breath starts hitching again and he’s forced to let out even more sneezes into his soaked sleeve.

“Hmmp’SHOO! HMPH’SHUHHHH! HRR-mNGKXXchuuh!”

He, instinctively, reaches out his non-soaked arm to take the towel. He desperately takes off his glasses, tossing them on the table, then buries his face into the towel. What had at first seemed comically unnecessary, now seems rather suitable as he blows and blows and blows his nose. He also sneezes several more times for good measure. As reluctant as he is to admit it, tending to his own foot in the state he is now may not actually be in his best interest.

After what has to be several minutes, he’s finally able to resurface from the depths of his towel. He sees Felix finally putting down some towels on the floor, careful of the glass. Connor wants to help, but he still has glass in his foot, and he’s also focused on the demanding task of breathing. His nose is stuffy, but not stuffy enough to prevent any air from going in and out. The tricky thing is that every breath he sends through his nose puts him on the cusp of another sneeze.

Felix continues cleaning. After minutes of literally just breathing, a surprisingly exhausting task, Connor’s apprehension from before returns when he sees Felix finally approach him with the first aid kit.

“Felix, I can do it my—”

His body, as if to mock his attempt at independence, throws him into another wretched sneeze that soaks his towel. “EFFFKK’shuUUUH!”

“Oh, dear,” Felix says as Connor looks for a clean spot on his towel to blow his nose. “This flu is putting up quite the fight. I hate to say it, but, it really looks like it’s taking you down, babe.”

Connor glares at him, but to his surprise, doesn’t feel any actual discomfort at having his symptoms addressed by Felix. Felix has now seen Connor at his absolute worst, and to Connor’s amazement, he’s still here. Still smiling and being his same, silly self. Connor feels an itsy bitsy, miniscule glimmer of hope emerge. It actually may be possible for Connor to be… to be enough for Felix all on his own, without any pretense of having to maintain some sort of impossible perfection.

Connor smiles at the thought. “No more ‘down’ than it took you,” he says, face still submerged in his towel. “I seem to recall you absolutely destroying one of Ben’s Christmas sweaters.”

Felix’s face contorts in such a clear expression of regret and disgust at the memory that Connor has to laugh, and then as a consequence for having any small amount of joy, he proceeds to cough up his lung.

Felix lowers himself to the floor, setting the kit next to him. “Yeah, so, I’ve decided next year, flu shots forever everyone. Me, you, and Ben. This has been nuts,” he says, as he opens up the kit.

Connor is still smiling from when Felix said “next year.” He feels warmth spread through him at the ease at which Felix speaks of the future, as though Connor is naturally included in it. The smile dissipates quickly, though, as Felix holds up the tweezers with a smile that Connor thinks is supposed to look confident. But, because it’s Felix, it just terrifies Connor.

Connor straightens up in the kitchen chair, feeling his heart begin to race. If this were anyone else, he’d feel much more at ease, but this is Felix. He sees Felix moving the tweezers toward Connor’s foot, but before he can even duck into his towel, he’s sneezing.

“HUUUH’PTSHOOoooOO!”

It’s a heavy sneeze that he sprays the air in a thick mist. In the kitchen lighting, he’s able to see the cloud of droplets expand out over Felix’s head. Connor’s cheeks burn.

“Felix, I am so sorry. Just, so, so sorry. I — I promise I didn’t mean to do that. I just… it was so fast.”

Felix looks up and smiles, an expression that feels incongruous given that he just got sneezed on.

“It’s okay, babe.”

Connor blinks. “It’s not… It’s most certainly not okay, Felix. I sneezed on you.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Yeah, exactly. You sneezed on me. The key word here being ‘you.’ So… no biggie,” he says with a shrug of his shoulder. “And, besides, I’m probably still immune to these germs anyway, so I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” he adds, his expression turning more serious as he notices Connor’s clear distress. “Now, relax, and let me get this glass out, so we can get you back to resting, okay?”

Connor groans, then sighs, trying to release some of his tension. “Fine, just… quickly. Before I inevitably sneeze all over the place again.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “Carefully. Quickly and carefully,” he says, shooting Felix a severe look.

“I’ve got you, babe,” Felix says, and by the twinkle in Felix’s eyes, Connor knows he’s about to be serenaded by the Sonny & Cher song.

And, sure enough —

“They say we’re young and we don’t know,” Felix belts out, incredibly off-key.

“Felix, I am already miserable. Do you really have to make my ears suffer along with every other part of my body?”

Felix just smiles and laughs as he resumes playing nurse. Felix’s hands have a firm grasp on Connor’s foot, and Connor feels the tweezers make contact with his skin. He closes one eye, but can’t bring himself to close the other. Suddenly though, Felix is jerking to the side.

“HEH-NGK’T! N’gkt! N’Gkkkt!” He takes one more deep breath, then — “N’kxt!”

Felix shakes his head like a dog, then gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. I hadn’t had the chance yet to get my normal morning sneezes out because someone was busy making a spectacle,” Felix teases.

“Okay, well, are they all out now? Because I really would hate for you to make any sudden movements while trying to get glass out of my foot,” Connor says, voice rising as panic sets in further the longer this situation goes on.

“Yep, they’re all out, I’m sure. I never have more than four,” he says with confidence. “And, calm down, it’s the smallest piece of glass I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, just do it already, then,” Connor says, hating the tremble in his voice.

Within seconds, Felix has the glass out. He immediately starts cleaning and bandaging the small cut. The whole process is only slightly painful. When finished, he looks up with a beaming smile. “I did it,” he says.

Despite the situation, Connor laughs. “Yeah, you did. I never doubted you.”

Felix rolls his eyes and stands, cupping Connor’s face before pressing the softest and sweetest kiss to the top of his head. “I never get to do this because you’re so tall,” he says into Connor’s hair, voice low and gentle. Then, he kisses Connor’s forehead, and Connor closes his eyes, savoring the touch.

“I think you might have a fever starting up,” Felix says, breaking Connor from his thoughts. Connor doesn’t feel particularly feverish. He feels… well, like shit. But that’s been pretty par for the course the past couple of days. “It’s early in the day, so let’s go ahead and get some Tylenol in you before you start feeling too bad, okay?”

Connor, with no hesitation, nods. Then he furrows his brows. He’s… He’s actually accepting care — for what has to be the first time in his life.

“Felix,” Connor starts, his voice rough, not just from sickness. “You know how much I regret leaving you, right?” he asks. “I mean, I know I’ve told you, but… I need you to truly understand how moronic and senseless that decision was okay? To think… to think I could do this, to think I could go through life without you,” he says, taking Felix’s hands in his. “I can’t, Felix. You make me feel like I… like I deserve to be loved,” he says swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I have never felt that way. And I don’t think I can ever stop hating myself for making you, of all people, feel like you weren’t enough when you are literally everything,” he finishes, looking up at Felix, whose eyes are suspiciously watery.

“All that just for getting a tiny piece of glass out of your foot?” Felix asks, his voice shaky.

Connor huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Just… you know I love you, right?”

“Of course I know that, you idiot,” he says, but the fondness at which he says the term is clear. “You’ve made that abundantly clear — what with Edna, and the snakes, and letting me dig around in your foot. The actual important question here is, do you believe me when I say I forgive you?” Felix’s eyes are searching, and Connor looks away. “No,” Felix says, tilting Connor’s head up. “You don’t get to dictate what gets forgiven. I love you and I forgive you and I trust you. And it’s not because I’m some naive golden retriever or whatever idea it is you have of me. It’s because you deserve it. You might not believe me now, but that’s okay because one day you will,” Felix says, voice firm and steady. Then his expression becomes lighter. “It’s fine if that day’s not today. Because today, you are on strict orders for bedrest.”

Connor swallows past yet another lump in his throat. “Is that so? And what credentials do you have, exactly, to make these orders?”

Felix furrows his brows and puts a hand on his hip, looking at Connor as though he said something ridiculous. “Did you miss the whole ‘Nurse Felix’ thing? I practically have a medical degree after the operation I performed.”

Connor laughs, which triggers a cough, which triggers a sneeze. This is how his life goes now, apparently. After blowing his nose into his towel, his energy is spent and he decides bedrest sounds like a phenomenal idea.

__________

Bedrest ends up actually being “couchrest,” but Felix has set the sectional up well with plenty of blankets, including the Frozen one. “What, you think I’m going to let a perfectly good blanket go to waste?” Felix had asked incredulously when Connor had questioned it.

So now Connor is stretched out along the chaise part of the sectional, with his pink and purple blanket tucked snugly around himself. He has a box of tissues at his side, and several used ones already littering his lap. The lighting is dim and cozy, helping ease the dull ache in his head. Felix had picked up some coffee and breakfast for them, since Connor had broken their carafe. Connor asked Felix to pick him up some oatmeal with berries. Felix had rolled his eyes, said “Babe, you deserve a nice gooey cinnamon roll right now, not oatmeal,” and that was that.

Connor eats his cinnamon roll and can’t deny it brings substantially more comfort than oatmeal. He tried arguing with Felix about the importance of vitamins and nutrition when one’s unwell, but Felix was hearing none of it, stating simply that “sick people are already miserable enough without having to eat vitamins.”

He’d suggested to Felix that Felix turn on whatever show he wanted to watch — that Connor wouldn’t be awake for long, anyway. Felix, though, was steadfast in his opinion that being sick is like having a birthday. Connor had, of course, questioned this nonsense. Felix explained that when it’s someone’s birthday, the day’s all about them — they get to pick what’s on TV, what to eat, where to eat, etc, and that it’s the same when you’re sick. Connor had met this explanation with what he thought to be a reasonable amount of uncertainty. “Just trust me, Connor,” Felix said. “You don’t know how these things work because you were never allowed to be sick.” And, well, Connor couldn’t argue with that logic.

So now they’re watching Star Wars. Connor’s seen all the movies millions of times, of course, but he’d almost swear the movies had some sort of healing properties. Though, that could just be Felix, who is next to him, eating his own cinnamon roll.

After finishing breakfast, he feels himself being slowly lulled into sleep, but a ring of his phone stirs him out of it. He looks down at “Mom” being displayed across the screen. He feels his body go rigid as he continues staring at the phone. Felix must notice because he’s leaning over to look at the phone. Felix’s mouth forms a tight line as he realizes who it is. Felix has always had strong opinions concerning Connor’s mother. Connor appreciates his concern, but he also thinks Felix isn’t quite justified in how unyielding he is in his opinions. Connor doesn’t think his mom is that bad. She did continue talking to him, at least, when he came out as gay. His dad entirely ceased all communication with him.

“Put it on speaker,” Felix says, his voice hardening in a way it so rarely did.

Taken aback by Felix’s tone, and also feeling anxiety creeping in as the phone continued ringing, Connor easily complies.

“Connor?” his mom answers.

“Uh, yes, Mom. It’s me,” he says, wincing as his voice cracks mid-sentence. Had his voice been this rough and congested all morning? He hadn’t noticed when talking to Felix, but now, with his mom on the other end, he feels the urge to make himself sound as normal as possible.

“Hello. We’ll need you at dinner tonight,” she states, as though the matter is already said and done.

He pauses, rubbing his temples. “And, why do you need me at dinner tonight?” he asks.

“Because Brian is finally bringing his girlfriend to meet us. And we need you there.”

Connor stares at his lap as he contemplates now to navigate this conversation. He feels Felix take his hand. When he looks up, Felix is shaking his head, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t understand why I’m needed,” Connor finally settles on saying.

This was obviously the wrong response because there’s a long pause. “He’s your brother, Connor,” she says in a clipped voice.

Felix squeezes Connor’s hand more tightly. Connor sighs, then coughs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tonight. I-I’m sick.” He’s proud he said the words with only a slight hesitation.

Connor can practically see his mother’s eye roll. “Even if you were sick, that’s no excuse. This is family, Connor.”

Again, Felix squeezes his hand even more tightly, and at this point, it’s becoming painful. Connor shoots Felix a look that he hopes conveys “knock it off.”

“I just, I think I have the flu. I should stay home today, I think. I can meet Brian’s girlfriend another time,” he says, feeling his composure start to waver. His throat is tightening and his heart is racing.

His mother sighs. “If you do have the flu, you can take some over the counter medicine and come anyway. I didn’t raise you to let something so trivial keep you from doing something that needs to be done.”

At this, Felix makes a low noise that sounds almost like a growl. Connor shoots him a glare.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I really am sick and I can’t. I think I … I think I should just stay here and rest,” he says, feeling more ashamed than he’s ever felt before. He remembers the looks from his mother when he’d make any grade less than A in school and when he hadn’t gotten into his first pick for college. And, of course, when he told her he was gay. This, somehow, feels even worse — like telling her he’s sick is an admittance of failure. He can already feel words of concession trying to escape his lips — that he guesses if he needs to be there, he can make it for a couple of hours on some DayQuil. But Felix’s hand is still in his, and he feels another gentle squeeze.

So, he instead says “Why do I need to be there, anyway? I’m sure this girl couldn’t care less. Actually, I’m sure she’d prefer I keep my flu germs far away from her.”

“Connor,” his mother starts, voice severe. “You need to be there because you’re Brian’s family, and this is important to him. Now that your dad’s gone, you know you and I are all he has left. Do you really want him to feel like he has no support?” Connor feels his hands shaking, and before he can answer to tell her he’ll come to dinner just to keep this conversation from continuing, she keeps going. “Although, I guess it’s silly for me to ask, isn’t it? Of course you want him to feel that way. You’ve never really cared much for us, have you? You’re always trying to distance yourself as much as possible. You moved away for over a year because you think you’re too good for us, so you had to run off to New York over some overinflated sense of self-importance. You've been back for weeks now and still having bothered seeing us. And when you were in New York, you barely made any effort to call. And when your dad was in the hospital… God, don’t even get me started on that,” she says with a wry laugh.

Connor’s breaths are shallow and coming out too quickly. He needs to cough, but he can’t — not when his mom can hear him. He has to remain composed. He needs to… he needs to just tell her he’ll come to the dinner. It’d be easier and less taxing than having this conversation.

But before he can, Felix is taking the phone from his hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Hayes,” Felix says, voice stern and full of uncharacteristic self-assuredness. “This is Felix, your son’s boyfriend.” Before his mom can get even the smallest of words in, Felix continues. “Yes, yes, I know the word boyfriend is probably making you feel ill. I’m ever so sorry for that. But I just have to chime in and say, Connor didn’t come see your husband in the hospital because he wouldn’t let him. Surely you remember, even on his literal deathbed, he refused to let Connor see him on account of Connor being a — well, we’ll just let the word go unsaid for the sake of maintaining a modicum of civility. I just had to get that out there because Connor is too polite and, for some reason I can’t for the life of me understand, too terrified of you to speak up for himself,” Felix says, as Connor just watches in horror. His mother seems to be rendered speechless — an unusual occurrence.

Connor tries reaching for the phone, but Felix keeps a firm grasp.

“You don’t have the slightest clue of what you’re talking about,” Connor’s mom finally says, voice sharp. “And if Connor cared enough, he would’ve come anyway. He wouldn’t have let the words of a dying man stop him. Evan had been so ill and on so many drugs at the time. He can hardly be held accountable for anything he said,” she continues, and Connor is alarmed to hear a tremble in her voice.

Felix laughs, wryly. “Right, and the three years he spent completely ignoring any attempts Connor made to contact him? What’s your excuse for that, Mrs. Hayes?”

“Evan had morals. Something people like you don’t have any understanding of. He was a proud man with convictions that he held tightly onto, even at the end and he should be admired for that. He was stronger than I could ever be. Here I am, trying to still keep contact with Connor because he’s my son and I love him regardless of his sins, but it’s clear I’d be better off following in Evan’s footsteps because my efforts are obviously not appreciated.”

The words cause Connor to take a sharp intake of breath, and now he is coughing. He can’t hold them back any longer. They’re deep, wet, and unending.

Felix rubs soothing circles along Connor’s back, but he’s still holding the phone firmly in his hand. “Oooh, I think that’s a delightful idea. Please do follow in those footsteps, Mrs. Hayes, and follow them quickly because I think Connor would be a lot better off.” Connor’s still desperately hacking into his wad of tissues. The coughing must trigger something in his sinuses because now he’s sneezing along with coughing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Felix says, continuing to rub Connor’s back. “I need to take care of your son because it’s about time someone does,” and with that he hangs up.

“Eck’SHooO! Hrrp’SHOOO! MMpff’SHUuuUUHH!”

Connor doesn’t think he’ll ever stop sneezing. Or coughing. He can’t even distinguish between the two because they’re falling on top of each other, keeping him stuck in a horrifying loop.

Felix never stops soothingly rubbing his back. His other hand is in Connor’s hair, gently running his fingers through it. He hears Felix whisper soft words of comfort — “It’s okay," and “It’ll end soon,” and “Just let them all out.” But Connor’s too preoccupied to respond.

Finally, after several minutes, he’s able to lean back into the couch. His entire body is trembling so hard that his teeth are chattering. He doesn’t know if it’s from his sickness or from the conversation with his mom. Felix takes the Frozen blanket, and tucks it tightly around Connor’s body. Seeing that Connor is still shaking uncontrollably, he grabs the orange knitted throw from the back of the couch, and does the same.

“Baby,” Felix starts, sounding hesitant. “I’m so sorry. I know that was out of line. I just… you know how I feel about her, and … god, Connor, she’s just abhorrent. The things she says to you. And you just let her.” At this, Connor starts to shudder even harder — not from his sickness, or from anxiety-induced adrenaline, but from the sobbing he’s suddenly found himself overcome with.

“Oh god,” Felix says, voice shaking. “Oh my god, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should just shut up. I know I should just shut up but for some reason I just never fucking can be quiet when it’s most important and I… oh my god, just, come here,” Felix says, sounding desperate. Connor shifts down further, curling toward Felix, and Felix adjusts immediately, wrapping both arms around him. Connor rests his forehead against Felix’s shoulder, his taller frame bending to fit against Felix’s smaller one. Felix pulls him closer, his hand finding its way back to Connor’s hair, fingers threading through it gently.

“Shh,” Felix mumbles softly and soothingly, fingers still in Connor’s hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I know. I’ve got you. Just let it out. I love you, and I’m here, okay? No matter what. Just cry as much as you need to.” As if Connor needed the permission, he sobs harder, his shoulders shaking.

Connor’s afraid he’ll never stop — that now that he’s allowed himself to cry for the first time since childhood, he’s triggered something inside himself that won’t shut off. Slowly, however, Connor’s sobs, that have also become mixed with coughs, do eventually begin to quiet, his breathing evening out as Felix continues to murmur comforting words.

The weight of exhaustion settles in, and Felix stays right there, holding him, until Connor's trembling finally starts to ease. “I’m just so fucking tired,” Connor mumbles into Felix’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Felix softly hums. “That’s okay. It’s okay to be tired. You’re exhausted. How about you try to get some sleep? I’ll be right here. We can talk about… about all that when you wake up. If you want. But right now you are in serious need of some rest. So, just close your eyes, baby. I’ll still be here when they open.”

So, Connor does. With an amount of trust he never thought himself capable of possessing, he lets himself drift off with the knowledge that Felix will be there, just like he said. Felix’s steady presence is an anchor as Connor lets sleep pull him under.

Part 10

#snz #snz kink #snzblr

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vixen525noms · 11 months ago

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Special Gift Part 4

Another story that started out on my deviantart page. Like DCD it will be continued. A G/T story with a much more wholesome giant, but there will be vore.

It occurs long while after Defying Certain Death, but in the same world and both stories do eventually tie together.

Proofreader and creator of Dani: @vore-scientist

Picture | First | Previous

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Naomi was a bit tense about being alone with this unfamiliar giantess, but it was better than being surrounded by them. She was carried to a room and set down on an area with a bed and reading area and a large painting of a beach. Naomi stared in shock as the giantess put her hands on the surface as if to pull herself up to sit on it, and began to rapidly shrink as she muttered a word in some foreign language. The giantess continued her action as she shrank, soon sitting on the edge of the surface. Naomi knew her mouth was open but was so shocked by the giantess shrinking it took her a moment to correct it. Lana chuckled a bit as she stood, “I had a feeling that would surprise you. I hope you are more comfortable now that I don’t tower over you. Perhaps now we can have a more relaxed conversa...”

Lana was interrupted by a human sized door flying open as a cute, pudgy young woman kicking open the door shouting, “I just heard the news! Connor got a- Your Majesty!” Then seeing the giantess shrunk, jogged over to hug Lana, giving a kiss on the cheek. Lana sighed, hugging the young woman back, “Hello Dani, good to see you too. This is our new arrival, Naomi. She comes from the Ruby Isles.” “Oh, right!” Dani chimes, turning to face Naomi with the biggest smile on her face, accented with deep dimples. "I heard Connor got a new treat! And wow, she is just as cute as the rumors said! Naomi was it? I’m Dani! I’ve been a paid treat for years; you’re going to love it here! "

“I… am not so sure about loving this place… it’s… a lot to adjust to…” Naomi said, nearly inaudible, kind of overwhelmed. Dani giggled in response, "Well sure! It was a bit scary; I’d actually never been eaten before! First time is sooooo terrifying, but now it's thrilling. So what was it like when Connor ate you? It's been ages since he's called on my services, but I suppose now he's got his own personal snack he won’t need me much at all. It's wonderful! He deserves it, he's such a sweetheart and really, kings should have more exclusive treats!"

Naomi looked horrified, “You mean he’s going to actually eat me? He’s eaten you? It was scary enough being put in his mouth!” Lana tried to interrupt, to explain to Dani about the situation, “Dani please, I think you need to know a bit more…”

"Of course he has, and he pays well, I got so many books... wait..." she faltered "I heard he ate you, the whole courtroom saw it!" Naomi replied, “I… was just in his mouth…” Naomi muttered, “This… has been extremely overwhelming…”

"Really? I mean you were there so you'd know but I am very surprised!" Dani finally noticed the look on Lana's face, "Hold on... I’m missing something. Is... Naomi not Connor's new treat? She's certainly dressed like one. She smells like one, smells like the special salt blend I made specifically for Connor!"

Lana sighed, glad to have Dani’s attention, “Naomi did not volunteer.” At that Naomi quickly added, “Volunteer? I thought giants were a myth before today!” Dani looks insulted at what Lana said, "Vo..." she gasps, "Volunteer!?" Dani said more shrilly, "Lana! You insult me! I am a paid professional! We all are! I cannot believe you would make such an error!" Dani was being intentionally dramatic. Lana’s hand rested over her forehead as she tried to get Dani on track again, “Did you completely miss what she said about not even knowing giants were more than a myth? And I didn’t call either of you a volunteer. I merely said she didn’t.” Naomi, hopeful the conversation now had the two distracted, began to examine her surroundings. She was hoping to figure out how to get away still.

Dani looked confused. "I... don’t know what you are talking about,” Dani said, having managed to miss the important part of what was said,"I think I did miss something," she looked down in a bit of shame and her cheeks got a bit red. "That happens..." but then looked up determined, "so, uh, repeat it, please?" Lana realized it would be best to go for blunt, and clarified the situation to Dani, “Naomi did not choose to be here. Before today, she thought giants were a mainland myth. I overheard the diplomats referring to her as a political prisoner that knows too much…”

Naomi, thinking the two were distracted by the conversation, carefully started to move towards the edge of the dresser. However, the movement immediately caught Dani’s attention, "Hey! Don’t go that way, you'll fall!" Dani called out, not realizing what Naomi was about to do. She even grabbed Naomi's wrist and pulled her back "First thing to learn about living amongst the giants! Stay away from the edges of things, we are very high up!" Naomi sighed, unsure if Dani meant to keep her safe or keep her from escaping, “I’m used to jumping down from the masts of ships. I know all about heights.”

Dani considered briefly and said, "Well still, don't? One does not just... fall off things in front of the queen. It is very rude."

Lana chuckled, “I think she meant to try to run away, Dani.”

Dani replied, "Well maybe you should get big again so she can’t do that!"

Lana sighed, “If it becomes necessary. For now I want to calm her down.”

Dani guided Naomi back to a seating area meant for humans. Naomi was visibly shaky, “They are so big…”

"Well, they are called giants, for a reason," Dani giggled and guided Naomi to sit down in a very plush chair.

Naomi’s voice was a bit higher, stressed, “They look to be as big as the statues of the great sea guardians… and he put me in his mouth! And you said he will surely eat me!”

“Well sure, I thought he already had, we all think that! Well, Everyone in the castle! That’s what giants do with treats. We just taste so good, and they like how it feels to have us in their bellies!” She turns to Lana, “Isn’t that right!”

Lana placed her hand on her forehead, “Of course we love it, but Connor wouldn’t do that to someone scared!”

“And like I said, you smell like you were doused in Connor’s favorite salts! I made them myself to make his treats taste even better! And you’re dressed as a treat, how was I to know you were… um… forced into this. Do you need some ice water? You’re sweating a lot. ”

“They dressed me as a sacrifice… they want to get me killed! Over a freaking accident!”

Dani laughed again “Killed!? Did you miss the part where I’ve been eaten? Do I look dead to you?” Dani then realized that she should be more mindful and patted Naomi on the shoulder, “You’re not gonna die. I don’t know why you ended up here but whoever dressed you like this didn’t want you to die. They know Connor wouldn’t ever kill a human! Unless you’re an assassin, but I don’t think you are.” Then more seriously she added, “But if you try to run, that might happen. There are some giants around who would happily have you as a snack for real. Connor isn’t one of them. And neither is Lana.”

“You mean like that really scary chef…”

Dani immediately knew who that is and looked like she might laugh again but stopped herself and glanced to the side, “I’ve worked with a lot of Syor... and Birgit… she seems the type, but she knows better. She’s been here for decades. We can both promise you she’d never kill you, she likes her job too much.”

“Syor? You mean giants? She’s the scariest I’ve seen so far…”

“Yes, Birgit is a Syor, the more um… scary kind of giant. And I won’t deny that Birgit is one of the scariest and yet one of the least likely to hurt a human. Oh and her majesty is Syorian. I ask again, do you want some water?”

“Honestly I want fig wine from my home, but water will do.”

“Oh, we don’t have fig wine, but we have figs! I like them with goat cheese and honey! Or just roasted with honey. We can get you some!”

“Figs would make me feel better… they are a cultural food to us.”Naomi said softly.

So Dani called for a servant to bring that snack and some juice to drink, having previously read islanders are fond of fruity drinks "Feel any better?"

“These aren’t like the ones from the islands… but they aren’t bad… this place is so scary…” Naomi said again.

"Repeating that won’t make it less so. You need to think about something else,” Dani suggested.

Naomi sighed, “Easier said than done... This place is so overwhelming.”

Lana spoke up, “I would assume it would be to someone unfamiliar with giants. But as Dani and I have both said, Connor won’t hurt you. How about we try to talk about something else. What led to you leaving the islands? It’s not all that common from what I know.”

Naomi was hesitant, but sighed, “I... was starting my new job as an ambassador... I already had worked on careful negotiations at home and it was decided I was ready to negotiate trade with Naterhu.”

She paused to fidget with a fig, trying to think straight. Trying to focus on what she was good at. “We had heard there was a kingdom north of Naterhu called Yorsani, but we wanted to focus on good relations with the one closer before sending ships further north...”

Having peeled off all the skin and removed the stem, Naomi had started removing some of the small, soft seeds, her hands getting juices from the fig on them as she did so, “I always dreamed of working in politics, especially international... even though the islands don’t interact with other nations much it sounded so interesting... I guess... I guess if I’m some sort of... gift... to the king here... I’m just going to be a pet now instead.”

Dani smiled, “Don’t look so glum! This place is great! The giants love us treats so much they will give us the best things. I have gotten language tutors and rare books... You’ll still have access to stuff to learn about other cultures just like you would as an ambassador... you’ll probably have access to learn even more unique things!”

Naomi frowned, “Treats? That’s what I’m to be to the king?”

Lana chimed in immediately, “Connor would never do that against someone’s will. You are not a treat unless you make the choice to be. You are a guest. Someone to talk to... A companion. Not just some treat to sample or some simple source of entertainment.”

The nervous island girl went quiet for a moment before continuing, “Dani you sound so happy with how you live... but this is a far cry from what I wanted for my life. I wanted not just to learn about other cultures, but interact, to handle the challenging situations that arise... to make a difference at the very least for my people, maybe even in the world as a whole.”

Lana arched a brow, “You have a very strong idea of what you planned for your life. Not many know that in their youth. Not many can state it so strongly when stressed.”

One fig now plucked of seeds, Naomi picked up another, “With everything that’s been going on, the lack of information while I was being transported... it’s all I focused on. I didn’t want to think about where I was being taken or what might happen... so I focused on that instead. I thought how even though by family has very different ways of making a living I studied the species of the islands, worked on cultural exchanges to resolve the ongoing issues with the werejaguars and have them more welcome on the big island. I was going to resolve the hostilities with a neighboring island to make ships like my father’s safer. That would increase the hauls of fish and being able to follow the migrations would eliminate the bad season for fishing. I studied the beastfolk of Naterhu, which I learned you call nemeran, and would arrange trade deals that would suit each of their needs instead of just focusing on human trade. I even made sure before my first trip to Naterhu that I knew exactly what body language and even ways of dressing may be seen poorly so that I would make a good impression and seal an important trade deal... and eventually make a name for myself, someone important, and all of this... all of this ruined by a stupid dog!”

"Wow... that... um. That sucks. I do love my life, but I chose it. You had yours taken from you by those... those assholes! Connor should eat them!"

Lana immediately interjected, “Absolutely not.”

Naomi stared at Dani with a horrified expression.

In response to both reactions, Dani added, "He wouldn’t kill them!"

Lana shook her head, “Still no, Dani.”

Naomi sighed, “I have a lot to think about.” Lana smiled warmly at Naomi, “Indeed you do. Let’s get you to a washroom, get the fig juice off your hands, get the bath salts off that are meant to flavor you off, maybe some floral scented soaps instead. And a different outfit... Maybe something colorful that covers you a bit better so you feel less exposed.” Lana stood from her seat, making a gesture for Naomi to follow. “Maybe the hot water will help you relax,” Lana said as she opened the door to the human sized passageway in the wall, “We’ll take this path so you don’t have to see any giants at full size… or be carried.”

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#giant tiny #size difference #terrasyor #syor #connor and naomi #special gift #naomi #king connor #soft vore #gt vore #gt #g/t #giant/tiny #my stories #my writing #syor hybrid #syorian #connor the giant #my stuff

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homosexualmanslaughter · 2 years ago

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A Long Post About Where Kendall Is After Episode 2 (with some Shiv analysis, too)

I wanted to make this post because I’ve seen such a wide range of perspectives on Kendall’s behaviour after episode 2, and I agree with almost none of them (lol). Don’t get me wrong, I love to read them, but as a Recognised Kendall Scholar, I wanted to share my own thoughts. As I’ve said before, I know I’m completely biased and blinded by love when it comes to him, but I hope what I have to say still has some relevancy. I’m also very aware that whatever happens on Sunday might make this all obsolete, but it’s fun to write about him regardless!

Okay, so the thing that made me really want to write all of this is because I’ve seen a number of people interpreting Ken’s mention of Connor and Rome’s abuse during the karaoke scene as selfish, cruel, manipulative or sinister. I know very well that he had his own motives and biases during that scene, but maliciousness and cruelty? I just don’t see that.

To me, Kendall is clearly angry on their behalf. And this makes sense to me, because he’s the one of the four of them who the ‘fight’ response to trauma. He is the one who can see how fucked up their lives are, and has been able to from the start - hence his guilt and cognitive dissonance that drives his entire character. Why wouldn’t he get angry knowing that the brothers he loves were hurt?

It’s Connor - as the one whose abuse consisted of being sent away and who, despite his brain telling him otherwise, is desperate to be cordial with Logan - who wants to sweep the abuse under the rug and “keep things nice”. It’s Roman who - heartbreakingly - refuses to accept that it was abuse because he believes he deserves it. Kendall is the one who knows how much they’ve suffered even if they won’t say it. So he is determined to make Logan hear it. He’s clearly still manic right now and probably still using, so he’s in that same confident and reckless state of mind that we saw in Austerlitz - ready to talk his shit to Logan without fear and without much thought.

He is very full of rage, yes, and of course this is the motivation for his rant. He is rightfully fucking angry about what Logan has done to him, to his sister, to his brothers, to his brother’s institutionalised mother. These people he cares about. I don’t think it’s pitying and cruel. I think he’s genuinely angry, for them.

And yes, maybe in an ideal world he would’ve handled it with more tact, been more respectful and sensitive towards Connor and Roman’s privacy. But he is not a trauma therapist. He is not a professional arbiter here. He is an abused person, whose siblings were also abused, and he is in a small room confronting their shared abuser. It’s perfectly plausible and valid that he would be angry and not thinking tactfully.

And, honestly, from a dramatic standpoint it would’ve been really fucking weird, jarring and out of character if Kendall had taken the time to ask Rome and Connor for their consent, and then done an aftercare check in with them afterwards. That’s not what the construction of the scene allows for, and it’s written in a way that heightens the drama and allows us to see these people at (almost) their most vulnerable.

I’ve seen people claim that the karaoke scene demonstrates a lack of empathy from Kendall, but I think the amount of anger he obviously has about how Logan treated that poor woman with mental health issues, and how he responds to Rome’s trauma in particular (“don’t fucking touch him!”) is evidence of how MUCH empathy he has, not how little.

And him ‘talking over’ Con and Rome’s trauma in a way, doesn’t suggest to me that he lacks empathy, just the opposite. As the Fighter, compared to Roman the Fawning and Connor the Fleeing, of COURSE he’s gonna shout and bawl and make his voice heard, because that’s his role. It’s empathy that’s just expressed through anger and protest rather than tenderness and restraint.

Rome screams at Jess - a staff member - to bring him a car, but it’s because he’s anxious to get to his brother’s wedding rehearsal. Ken is lying to his siblings, but it’s because he thinks he can free them and “take them all out of it”. These men contain multitudes. They are both arrogant and narcissistic. They are both damaged and vulnerable. They both have empathy.

Ken loves his siblings more than he loves himself. When he rages on behalf of Roman and Connor instead of bringing up his own abuse, it’s not because he thinks they’re weak or because he believes that his abuse didn’t happen, it’s because he is angry that the people he loves have been hurt. And yes, he’s rightfully angry about his own treatment, but he is surrounded by the people he - as the fighter - has been taught to view as needing defending. And he wants to defend them. I don’t think this means he views them with contempt. It’s love, just expressed in the most tragic way, heavily informed by the roles they’ve been forced into and have internalised since childhood.

And on Shiv, her relative silence in the karaoke scene compared to Ken’s rant is interesting. She’s really living up to her role as ‘freezer’, compared to Ken the fighting, Roman the fawning and Connor the fleeing. But like Kendall - the ‘strong dogs’, the killers - she does have venom of her own to spit. I keep seeing this idea that somehow she and Kendall don’t know that they were also abused, and that ‘abuse’ was something only reserved for the weak dogs, the ones who were sent away: Con and Rome. I don’t think this is true, I think Ken absolutely knows that he was abused, especially post-Chiantishire.

For Shiv it’s a more recent and complicated acknowledgment. She was never hit, she was never sent away, she wasn’t emotionally tortured with the same rigour as Kendall was. But she knows that Logan was cruel to her. For her to consider it abuse? I think that’s new, and I think the divorce lawyer situation has made her realise just how deep her own hurt lies, and she’s not afraid to tell Logan about it. However, I think for her to realise the depth of her own abuse will take time, and she’ll have to confront and reconsider her role as the ‘favourite child’.

I think this concept of Shiv as ‘the favourite’ colours Ken’s perspective, when we’re thinking about his lack of recognition of Shiv’s abuse during his big rant. He knows that Logan is cruel to her, we know he does - “calling your daughter a coward until she cries? Big man.” - but I think it’s also valid to say that he - and all three brothers - don’t appreciate the extent to which she was abused, too. And does misogyny play into this? I think it does, a bit. But for me it comes down to the persisting childhood dynamics of the four of them.

Shiv’s abuse is low down on the list for Ken because Rome and Connor’s traumas are so much more visceral and immediate. They were plain to see. Shiv was ostensibly the favourite, physically unharmed, and maybe all three brothers still feel a degree of envy towards her for this. I can see how people read it with misogynistic undertones: Rome was hit, Connor was sent away, Shiv - to them - had all they could ever want, to be loved, to be prized. They saw her (and maybe still do) as a daddy’s girl, who doesn’t understand what they’ve been through.

But I think as an adult Ken definitely understands her trauma with more empathy than he might have done as a jealous kid. “It’s you now” he says to her, and he knows what that entails. I think that if Connor hadn’t cut him off, and he’d just had endless time to list off his complaints, he would’ve raised Shiv’s trauma too. But in the end he didn’t need to, because she fought her own corner and aired her own grievances, the strong dogs protesting against their treatment, with Shiv giving a ‘fight’ response to Logan rather than a fleeing, fawning or freezing response for possibly the first time.

I’ve also seen people who believe that Kendall should’ve mentioned Logan’s abuse of Iverson as his main complaint, but I think that all these mentions of Iverson misinterpret the situation. This is a conversation between four children and their father. The love they have for each other is different to the love they have for their partners and children. It was Connor’s party. It was very much Sibling Trauma Time. Kendall was sitting in a room with only his siblings and father, knowing that he is the only one (because of drugs or mania or nihilism I don’t know) who is prepared to say the uncomfortable truths. The pain he has on Iverson’s behalf is for another day, another party.

Logan is in that room to ‘apologise’ to the kids. Ken wants to know what he thinks he’s apologising for. As someone who works with scripts for a living, I think to bring up Iverson in that room would’ve broken the promise of the scene. The promise of the scene being that it’s a space for the siblings to air their dirty laundry, to say what they want to say about each other and their father. Iverson, or anyone else, does not factor into that scene. Obviously Con’s mum is the special exception, and I believe it’s mentioned because it creates a connection between her and Kendall - their shared experience being Logan using their mental illness against them.

I think I’m going to write a follow-up post to this, exploring Ken’s new motivations in terms of the buyout, his new relationship with the CEO pipe dream, and what it means for his character going forward. But for now, I hope this was an interesting read!

#kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #connor roy #logan roy #connor’s mother #meta #season 4 #succession spoilers #succession meta #succession

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