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j-graysonlibrary · 1 year ago

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 35

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 35 under the cut

Chapter XXXV:

Pangu had not given himself time to think about them out of fear of it distracting him but, seeing them in the moment brought the rush of emotions back to him. His worry, his anxieties, his premature mourning, and the absolute horror at having, possibly, been the cause of their deaths.

He jumped to his feet and ran over, bringing them both into a hug. “I am so glad you are okay!”

“We were fine,” Kira said and patted him on the back, “You were the one attempting to fight the fire lizard on your own, crazy.”

“Yeah, if anyone was worried, it was us,” Baiya seconded with a laugh.

Pangu pulled away, not caring that his tears were flowing. They were probably making pretty definitive streaks on his face, through the dust and smoke. “I watched the tower collapse. I had no idea what happened to you two…”

Kira gave Baiya a quick look but then returned to Pangu. He slapped a hand on his shoulder and smirked. “Like I said, we’re fine.”

Baiya nodded and the relief finally washed over Pangu entirely. His breath hitched and he grabbed his partner by the sides of his face and yanked him into a kiss.

“Well,” Kira said, turning his attention to the women on the ground, “I do have some bad news, unfortunately.”

Pangu parted from Baiya and turned to hear it.

“What?” Loa asked as she rubbed circles along Phay’s back.

“We went to find the lord of Cidney and, well…he’s dead.” Kira leaned against some nearby rubble and crossed his arms over his chest. “He and a handful of his guards were crushed by a collapsed ceiling so…”

“Who will take care of the city?” Loa asked.

“I will,” Phay answered as if it was obvious.

Kira offered, “I can bring over your troops or, at least, some of them. That way you can have a group you trust with you.”

“Well if you are staying here then so am I,” Loa insisted. “Someone has to make sure you do not overexert yourself.

Baiya watched his sister and debated whether he should object to her suggestion or not. She was grown, after all, and she could make her own decisions. Not only that but she was capable of defending herself and she was acting out of more than just self interest. She loved Phay, yes, but she also loved Agni.

His chest ached but it was pride, not worry.

“You will be alright?” he asked anyway.

She stood up and nodded with a smile. “Can I borrow my brother for a moment?” she asked Pangu and he gladly stepped to the side so she could hug him.

Pangu moved closer to Phay and helped her to her feet. “So, what will you do about Phaos? Lord San?”

She sighed and brushed off some soot from her armor. “Probably send an envoy, just to see. I worry Ashoka will have him on her side.”

“Speaking of,” Kira said with a finger raised, “Where did she go?”

“I do not sense her anywhere,” Pangu noted, “She must have fled.”

“Or died.” Phay seemed a little too eager about that being the case.

“Either way, she is no problem for you at the moment.” Pangu gave a weak smile. He did not get the feeling the disciple was dead though she was probably injured from the fall. Whether she came back at all was of no real concern though since she would be in no position to harm Phay.

***

Only Phay went with Kira through the miasma portal so he did not have to spend too much of his energy after the Salamander ordeal. Plus, she was the only one who was really needed on the other side.

Her encampment was far larger than the last time they had been and, even more surprising, it had not been moved. Kira glanced around as the soldiers quickly took note of their presence. He stayed back as Phay was welcomed like a hero and her second-in-command filled her in on everything that had happened in the past few months.

If he was to take even a quarter of the people back through a portal, he would be spent.

Just as Kira started to debate the maximum number he could support, one of the soldiers walked up to him. Or, he assumed they were a soldier until he actually turned his head.

“You?” he remarked with surprise as Ishtar, dressed in light armor with her hair tied back, stood at his side. “I nearly didn’t recognize you in that.”

“It is a different look,” the woman said, setting a hand on her hip. “Took some getting used to.”

Kira arched an eyebrow. “What made you?”

“There is no money in the underground while everyone is focused on whether or not Agni will even exist by the end of the year.” Ishtar made it sound as if her business was solely the thing that mattered but Kira remembered her face when she spoke of Merra’s plans for the country. Perhaps she only cared about Agni so long as it benefited her but there was some pride laced in there too.

“Alright well, speaking of money, you still owe me some for batting Merra’s army back.” Kira smirked.

“I never offered a bonus,” Ishtar countered, “But perhaps I could spot you a few coin. After all, I heard you killed one of the Heavenly Princes. What a terrifying Chaaya you have become,” she spoke with a crooked smile.

Kira snickered. “The worst the land has ever seen.”

Ishtar was among the group that came with them, once Phay was done explaining the situation to her troops. Her second-in-command helped to divide the soldiers accordingly and Kira opened a portal back to Cidney with a hefty breath.

As expected, it nearly depleted him but Pangu was quick to run to his side and offer some of his energy to compensate. Normally, Kira would have pushed him away and told him to keep it but, in that instant, he really needed the help—as much as it pained him to admit.

“Ah, Baiya, I see you two are back together,” Ishtar said, making her way over to their group while Phay reconvened with Loa.

“Who…?” Baiya had to do a double take. “Ishtar?!”

“I was surprised too,” Kira admitted as he removed Pangu’s hands from his. He would take no more than what was absolutely necessary. There was plenty of miasma in Cidney to siphon anyway, he thought and then returned to the topic at hand: Ishtar. “She is a noble Agni soldier now.”

“Do not misrepresent me,” she scoffed before her eyes landed on Pangu. “Oh, the ex-Xiang.”

“…Did we know each other before?” Pangu asked, clearly worried. He wasted no time covering for himself with an explanation, “I lost my memory and not every event or person has fully come back.”

When all three of them laughed, he was further puzzled.

“We did not meet,” Ishtar said, “Though I was promised a meeting with you the last time you were in Cidney…”

“Do not,” Baiya warned while Kira cackled.

“What does it matter now?” he challenged, “Pangu will not be scandalized.”

“I…” Baiya started and then stopped, resorting to a disgruntled huff.

Pangu glanced between them and then set a hand on his lover’s arm. “Does this have anything to do with why you and Kira were gone for so long when we were here?”

“Yes, they killed my men and threatened me,” Ishtar blurted out though she seemed wholly unbothered by their past troubles. In fact, she kept a smug smile on her lips the entire time. “I was looking to cash in on your body parts—nothing personal—but these two got wind of it, arranged a meeting with me, lied about kidnapping you to sell you to me, and then attacked once I arrived. As I said, they killed my men then held me at the point of a blade and told me to leave you alone or else they would kill me next time.”

Pangu’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Baiya who would not make eye contact. “Baiya!” he half scolded and half laughed, “Why did you keep this from me?”

“He did not want you to think badly of him. He was still trying to impress you,” Kira said, “I even wanted to kill Ishtar then and there but Baiya was the one who said no. Because he did not want to dirty his hands more than necessary just in case you did find out.”

“It is a good thing too,” Ishtar cut in, “Not just for the fact I enjoy living but if you had slit my throat then, the two of you would have been lost once Pangu bit the dust.”

“You know, it is strange that you have no questions about his resurrection,” Baiya said, furrowing his brow.

“I have already heard. How it happened, I do not know—nor do I care, really—but the point remains. I gave you both jobs and information so I am sure you are glad you kept me alive. I suppose we should all thank Baiya’s crush on the Xiang.”

Even Pangu laughed, slapping against Baiya’s arm all the while. The Agni disciple could only sigh and hang his head.

Phay and Loa circled back to them, ready to say their final goodbyes. Baiya hugged his sister once more and they left the city in the Agni lord’s capable hands, knowing that they would see her again soon. She was both essential for further planning against Merra and she now had the link to Salamander as well.

Ishtar waved, beside the rest of the Agni soldiers, as they passed through the miasma portal.

Once back in the caves, there was an immediate need for rest—especially for Kira. Pangu kept his arm on him as they landed on the other side of the abyss and he scanned the room for Raine, trying to force his eyes to adjust.

“We are back!” he called out when he did not hear anything for a while.

“Kira!” Raine sounded first as he ran over, “What happened? Where are the women?”

“My sister and Phay stayed behind to plan and organize,” Baiya answered, “Salamander chose Phay.”

“Knew it,” May announced with a snicker before the wind left her sails, “Aw, wait, so no more girl time.”

“You still have me,” Chandes chimed in.

“What happened?” Raine’s voice went quiet, asking only the returning group. He pulled Kira into his arms, offering his body for him to lean against.

“Kira brought over Phay’s army to Cidney…” Pangu sighed. “It took a lot out of him.”

He had drawn in a lot of miasma to compensate for his lack of energy. If he was anyone other than Kira, Pangu would have been terrified he would die of miasma poisoning by the end of the night. Yet, even though he knew he was stronger than most in that regard, he still struggled to see him in such a state.

“…s’ fine,” Kira argued with a grumble.

“Get him to bed,” Baiya told Raine and the first disciple nodded.

They retreated down the tunnels and Baiya and Pangu were left to answer all the questions. It was kept brief since it was becoming, more and more, clear that Baiya was exhausted as well.

When the two returned to their room, they finally met with Kaz and Viren.

“Oh, we did not hear you come in,” Kaz said, a look of concern and slight frustration on his face. He was sitting next to Viren who was laid back, resting with his eyes closed. It was obvious he was not asleep only by the way his brow moved in response to the talking and commotion.

“Still feeling drained?” Baiya asked and joined them on the bed. He, too, was ready to sleep so he settled next to Viren.

“Mmm…yes.”

Pangu looked at the three of them, especially Viren, and his heart felt as heavy as a boulder. He knew he needed to work on planning their next move but all he really wanted to do was spend time with them.

But there would never be enough time for all he wanted.

Even the next day, as soon as he was out of his room, he was spirited away by Gong and Parvati who said they needed to discuss something with him.

His mind was still on Viren and how sluggish he was but he tried to focus on his old mentor, especially with the overly serious look on his face.

“You did an amazing job on freeing all of the Great Spirits,” he opened with, “but some of us believe it may not be enough still.”

“Me and my sisters,” Parvati elaborated.

And, as though she were summoned, Devi joined them. Pangu expected more but it was just the eldest that showed up.

“Mother has regained some strength and willpower from her children being set free,” Devi said and clasped her hands together, “But if she is to return to how she was before all of this pain and suffering…then…”

Pangu looked between them and noted the somber expression shared between the Mistresses and even Gong. He frowned. “Then what?”

“We are all a part of Shakti, Pangu,” Parvati said and grasped his shoulders. “When she was first wounded by the loss of her children, she felt so alone and despaired that she bled out miasma for a century.”

“And, eventually, some of that miasma responded to her loneliness,” Devi continued and pointed at her own chest, “I came into existence.”

“And, mother lost some of her sense of self and her memories in the process,” Parvati sighed, releasing Pangu before saying, “It was the same with each of us. We were all made when her anguish built up too much and had to be released. She, quite literally, cut out her pain and we are the result. But, along with being the emotions she no longer could handle, we are also her. She cannot return to her old self while we still exist.”

Pangu heard his blood pumping in his ears and he continued to look back and forth between them. “So you…intend to die?”

“We will not kill ourselves in a hurry,” Devi stated with a chuckle, “but, without us, Shakti may still be vulnerable compared to Tiandi. Our sacrifice may be necessary.”

Gong spoke up, “It is not dissimilar with Tiandi.”

“I did hear from Badou that a part of Tiandi was placed into each of you…so…” Pangu paused. “Does that mean, since Zhu is dead, Tiandi is, actually, stronger?”

“Probably.” He nodded. “However, if we want a chance to actually kill Tiandi then he will need to be whole as well.”

Pangu looked down at the floor, almost wanting to laugh just so he did not have to cry. “So you all need to die in the end?”

“We are prepared to return to mother,” Devi mentioned and glanced to Parvati who, in turn, looked to Gong.

“Yes,” she agreed, “And I am sure the idea of being separated from that Tian aspect is rather compelling, even in the face of a second death.”

“It is.” Gong smiled but he could not keep it up. “Pangu, I know you wanted to save us as well but…some sacrifices are necessary to ensure the greatest amount of lives is protected.”

His wording made him think of Kira and Viren. And himself. He also realized that, had he just meditated on it a while longer, Gong could not survive the final fight with his Tian aspect still in place. But the Mistresses, he had hoped, could have been saved…

Pangu exhaled the same time Kira did from the far side of the cave system, tucked away in another room. He had been asked to visit with Shakti and, along with her, there was Kali, Chandes, and Ziyi. Their reason for calling their Chaayas was quite the same as why Pangu had been summoned by Gong for their meeting.

Ziyi looked between the Mistresses and held Browly in his arms despite the dog’s struggles to free himself. “Wait, so you will all be gone?”

“We will return to Shakti and be one,” Kali restated.

“Had this been your plan all along?” Kira asked with a raised eyebrow. If so, he would have liked to have known, even if it would not have changed his approach to things much.

“It was always something they spoke of,” Shakti answered and shifted her gaze between Kali and Chandes.

“Ever since I was born, the rest realized how bad of a mistake it was,” Chandes said and chuckled. “But, seriously, we knew we were taking power and memories from mother we just…couldn’t do anything about it.”

“With the four Great Spirits now free, it seems like there is a real chance at victory over Tiandi,” Kali continued, looking at Kira. “I…I had not ever dreamed a day like this would come. Had you asked me a year ago what I assumed the future for us and Shakti looked like I would have told you that there would be more Mistresses and that we might, eventually, overtake Tiandi by pure force but…”

“Aww, are you getting sentimental, Kali?” Chandes snickered.

The Mistress hissed and swatted at her. “You really are annoying,” she said before returning to face Kira. With a hefty sigh, she mumbled, “I suppose I should thank you or whatever for sticking by Shakti even if you did things in the most convoluted way possible. You still freed the Great Spirits…”

“No need to thank me,” Kira responded with a crooked smile.

Kali’s brows pinched together and her jaw set. “Just accept the thanks.”

Ziyi, completely ignoring them, continued to stare at Chandes. The Mistress, despite having just said she would no longer be around by the end, seemed as carefree and happy as always. It made him doubt what he had been told.

So he asked for a little clarification. “So, are you going to die or just, sort of, disappear…?”

“Oh, can’t wait to get rid of me?” She challenged with her hands on her hips.

“Obviously,” he replied and set his dog down. Of course, he ran directly up to Chandes and begged for her attention.

She picked him up and held him, rocking him back and forth while his nub of a tail wagged. When he licked her, she laughed. “Well Browly will miss me at least. Won’t you, buddy?”

Ziyi rubbed his knuckle along the corner of his eye, catching a tear before it could fall. “You will be back with Shakti so you will not be entirely gone. I bet you will find a way to reach out and give me nightmares or something. No way you would ever completely leave me in peace.”

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years ago

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break my mind’s eye VI — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Coffee was not the only thing bitter this morning. An irritating three hours ago, Yoongi had been wrapping the final works of the—at least what he and everyone else in his team considered—a successful raid. Fourteen hours achingly squeezed through the exhaustion in his veins to bust this den and it was a popular one at that. Around ten dealers were arrested that night.

Only two got actual jail time. The only reason was because they both had companions with them that night under the age of eighteen and one of them was the culprit for a former models’ murder.

Other than that, the den was closed down to keep up appearances. Most of the dealers had the infamous phoenix tattoo to symbolize exactly who they were working for. However did they get enough proof to finally expose Jeon Jungkook?

Not a fucking chance.

He dragged himself into the precinct with a heavy head and tar-like coffee in his hand before slouching onto his chair. A sweet pile of files on his right which were happily ignored. Yoongi could also painfully notice that Namjoon was desperately trying not to ask him about the raid even though every twitch in his eye wanted otherwise.

Darkened and deep set eyes shot a slight glare at the younger male. “Go on.” He rasped.

Namjoon looked almost a little innocent with his huge glasses on staring at him like he was not so deathly obvious about his curiosity. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to so get it over with so you can cover for me while I take a fucking nap.” The older male patted the pile of files which was now going to the others’ responsibility solely because Yoongi had information Namjoon could not gain. If he could even call it decent information.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in closer resting his elbows on the table and forgetting whatever he was working at the computer. “What happened?” He whispered more enthusiastically now.

“Everything and nothing.” Yoongi seethed, anger burning through the unwavering heaviness of his body. “We checked all the stages. Did everything we needed to do and got more fucking eye witnesses than any task force has ever done. Except our captain decided it was the perfect time to act like a damn saint by letting most of them go on fucking technicalities.” Fingers curled up into tight fists just retelling the whole story. So much work had been placed to take this den down and for what? Sleepless nights and back to the square one?

His heart leaped a little for once hearing someone else verbalize the captains’ clear goal to ensure that Jungkook was never exposed again. “You know why they do it, right?”

The older male shook his head with a light stammer. Yoongi was the one who trained Namjoon in the field which was the only reason why he was assigned to be his partner over anyone else. He could always keep him in line. But now he worried whether there might be a dark truth laced in all his words. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” He muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his coffee.

Namjoon let out a small sigh of defeat glancing over at the precinct around them. It took any person with common sense to notice a few who were drowning their insides with coffee to stay awake after a failed raid. A small part almost felt relieved that others now knew the things he went through after his failed undercover mission. That knowledge something was wrong but you could not do anything about it. The curse of being part of a system which Jungkook already ruled since birth. “What can we do then?” He asked more to himself than the other.

“Yoongi…” Tapping of footsteps broke their conversation for a minute as one of the detectives, Minnie walked to their desks. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.” Her eyes flickered to the two men who stared at her in utter confusion.

The dark haired male peered at the woman through his fringe already noticing Namjoon stiffen at the sight of the detective. “What now? I’m not really in the mood for more disappointment.” Yoongi leaned back and tolerated the little glare the younger male gave him for speaking to Minnie in that manner.

“You’ll want to hear this. It’s a message from the big chair.” She muttered before turning on her heel to walk out of the building.

Namjoon immediately gave Yoongi a pleading look to go follow her, thighs bouncing in place out of his curiosity.

Yoongi kissed his teeth before averting his gaze in annoyance. “I’m too old for this shit.” He got up from the chair with his cooling coffee.

“You’re a year older than me.” His brows furrowed.

“I meant mentally.”

Out in the spring like air of the smoking zone, Minnie hugged a brown envelope as the two men walked out eying her in pure puzzle. Her nose flushed without her jacket but the nerves that built up in her body made it difficult to care. “I don’t know why they gave to me.” She shook her head. “I thought I was let off from this but—” The woman handed them the brown envelope.

Yoongis’ forehead remained permanently knitted as he accepted the envelope as Namjoon took his coffee from him carefully. He pulled out one single piece of paper. A hand-written letter.

‘I am fully aware of Mr. Jeons’ actions under the blanket of extortion and public sympathy. The raid was planned to be a publicity stunt to impress me somehow but I have been observing this world for as long as I can remember. The police force vows on survival. They want to protect their children from being taken, wives from being defiled. It’s every man and woman for themselves in front of this power. Unfortunately this means we must play the same game of deceit and secrecy to truly achieve the victory we all want.

Hence this letter to you. Gather a small team that you can rely your life on for this mission. There will be materials and sources given to you throughout the month and I suggest you find a dispassionate body whom you can trust to slither into the enemy crowds. There we shall begin the first careful steps to our goal.

Burn this letter as soon as it is read.

May God be with you.’

“Fucking Christ.” Yoongi whispered re-reading the letter ten times before finally understanding the sudden weight dropping on his head. The signature did not lie either. He had seen that so many times in recent weeks it was engraved in his mind at this point.

Minnie shook her head again, a mixture of fear and concern reflecting in her eyes. “I didn’t know who else to trust.” Gaze flickered from Yoongi and Namjoon who still were not able to formulate any kind of proper response. “I’ve already been to the rings undercover, I won’t be able to risk it. Namjoon got too close as well.”

Namjoon swallowed the small lump in his throat at the mere memory of his time deep inside the Jeon Cartel. As much as he wanted the glory of walking back to that place to make things right. It was too much risk. This time they were going against all the usual protocol that ever existed.

Only person left was one who had not truly been seen on the inside was—

“You’re shitting me.” Yoongi sighed out the words. He understood the stakes of spreading this information to far too many people. In fact even the man himself could not name anyone who could be more trustworthy than Namjoon and Minnie. Most of the precinct were hell bent on bruising their knees for the captain while some others preferred the older mayor. It was an unbreakable web of lies and unfair distribution.

“Sorry, Yoongi.” Minnie muttered.

“You did the right thing.” Namjoon quickly interjected. “Anyone else would’ve just shown this to the captain.” He nodded towards the letter.

Without another response, Yoongi pulled out his black lighter and flicked to expose the small flame. His eyes fixated on the bright shade of yellow a little dulled out from the daylight before touching the edge of the paper. He kept a hold of it until it was absolutely ensured that the erupting fire devoured every words. Throwing it in the bin, he sighed deeply when he stared at the two youngers. Whatever tired looseness his body adorned a while ago now faded away with a new anxiety. Not really anxiety but a concern. The results of their last raid did not exactly boost his self-esteem in being able to achieve a large feat. Digging his hands into his pockets, cool wind flowed through his black shirt making him shiver a little. “When do they want us to start?”

Minnie looked around for a moment; more a sign of precaution but a lot of the precinct would be stuck inside the building or on patrol. “There is an inside source who’s been working with the mayor for a few years now and they say that he’d be able to get you a pathway into the cartel.” She rubbed her arms to give herself some type of warmth from the air that only seemed get colder.

“What kind of a source?” Yoongi squinted his eyes. The mayor was not wrong in saying they were a regular in Jeons’ exposure to the public since they already had a solid source.

“I couldn’t get everything but you need to cut any outside ties this month onwards.”

He scoffed with a smile. “It’s cute you think I have other ties.”

A month had gone by before Belle could even take a few breaths. During work hours, it was easy to forget her personal life for several hours and just focus on seams linking with colours, blending into an assortment of something beautiful. Somehow the more perfect her works were the more she felt in control of the world around her.

Boyoung came in and out of the boutique to give her updates on the things that could be done about the cake, flowers or the general décor. Guest list had pretty much been determined by her save for Taehyung and Saito with a slightly awkward explanation of her parents’ death.

Today in the cool day Belle gazed at all the designs for the Sangria House mixed in with Spring Line. She opted to display all the Sangria House dresses towards the end during the fashion show so it could add a showstopper. The lavender one especially caught her eye already imagining Jimin wearing the get-up with some matching jeweled earrings. Dainty fingers brushed across the silk, a softened smile playing on her lips.

“Your first line.” Saitos’ voice broke her out of her little trance. “How does it feel?”

Belle looked over her shoulder to see the woman adorned in a similar lavender pant suit as she padded closer to the displays. “Terrifying.” She breathed out, the corners of her lips twitching up. “It feels like I’m jumping headfirst into cold water.” More like a vast ocean that was so deep that she might drown if she was not careful. Though she would dive into this pool any day.

“Speaking of diving headfirst.” The older woman smirked before the sound of something swishing touched Belle’s ear.

She fully turned around to see Saito hanging a covered outfit on rack before unzipping it down and pulling a pure white piece. A majestic dress bigger than any of the designs they had for the line, multiple georgette layers with slight elegant frills at the ends, a diamond encrusted waist line with a sweetheart neck. The whole piece was simple without any extra glitz and glamour aside from the waist.

“What do you think?”

Belle breathed out a chuckle, eyes not being able to tear away from the dress despite the simple look. “It’s beautiful. What’s this for?” Wide eyes searched the older womans’ expression who merely laughed at the girl.

“Well what else? It’s your wedding dress. If you want anyway.” She shrugged, her gaze now trailing down the long length before fixing the fabric a little so it displayed perfectly. “It’s a little simple I know but if Boyoung told me earlier when the wedding was going to be, I would’ve worked on it a bit more.” Saito spoke about it in such a casual manner.

Little did she realize the jolt of tears flooding in Belle’s eyes when she heard that the other designed and made this whole dress for her. “You made this for me?” She whispered, a small droplet threatening to fall down her cheek.

No one asked Saito to do so nor was she forced to make one either. But the woman did it anyway without any prize in return. She did not ask for her body or her mind as a way to repay her actions. Just an act of kindness.

“Actually I did it so you could do something for me.” She pouted a little before glancing around the boutique longingly. “I can’t have this boutique forever and I’m not exactly getting younger either.” She chuckled, patting the work table like it was her first born child. “Do you mind taking care of her? After I’m retired?”

Belle’s heart almost sank for a moment knowing there was always a catch. Except Saito once again showed she was nothing like other people in her life. Her chest felt like it lost all room for her overflowing affection. Legs rushed over and Belle said nothing but wrap her arms around the woman, squeezing a little tighter than normal. Now that her senior couldn’t look at her expression, all the tears she desperately tried to keep in now came flowing down her cheeks.

All these walls breaking down, there was one dark truth touching the tip of her tongue. The wedding dress Saito worked so hard on. All for a wedding that wasn’t even real. What Belle wouldn’t do to just blurt it all out right now and let the bleeding wounds heal for once but it can’t be done.

The world was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She never experienced that sentiment so strongly until now.

Saito giggled rubbing her back soothingly as she attempted to give her comfort while also holding a humungous white dress. “I’m not dying, sweetie.”

Belle laughed through her tears, quickly wiping them away when she pulled out of the hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Marriage getting you all emotional?”

“You can say that.” One way to describe the hell she got herself into.

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male who somehow gained the audacity to disturb him in his office. Fingers stilled around the pen he was holding to sign a few hand-written letters to some associates. A warning to take caution for the coming days due to the raid in one of their biggest dens.

Taehyung scoffed lightly at the blunt response. “Why not?” He folded his arms together in front of his chest. “I spend hours in a day doing absolutely nothing. How long do you expect me just sit idly here?” The man looked and felt sicker by the day which the doctor explained was the body clearing itself out. Not really the most reassuring explanation but he knew at one point where all the sick feelings dissipated because he was properly distracted by something. Someone more like.

He dropped the pen on the table now unable to concentrate on putting the words together especially since this wasn’t exactly Word Document where it could be easily deleted. “I don’t want you in here either.” Jungkook retorted. “But you’re also not the most trusted person to be left alone right now so I’m left with no option other than no.”

“Then a guard can come with me.” Taehyung shrugged. Truth be told the man had no intention of doing what Jungkook had been wary about. Of course it’d be a lie to say there was not a gnawing feeling in his stomach as if something was missing. But right now that was not the goal.

“I suppose you expect me to pay for this outing as well, yes?” He winced.

“You are marrying my sister by force. So yeah you’re paying for both our life insurance as far as this whole fuckery is concerned.”

Jungkook cocked a brow hearing the male’s challenge. Maybe one shot to the leg would have helped him relieve any stress but he hated how much Taehyungs’ eyes resembled Belles’. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed the phone roughly and put it to his ear. “Mr. Kim…I’d like to book a private room in your house this afternoon. Sorry for the late notice.” He glanced over at the male, pressing the phone on his chest. “Who did you want?”

“Angel.”

Of course the fucker had to choose the most expensive angel in the goddamn registry. The crime lord took a deep breath to calm his fury before placing the phone to his ear, an award-winning smile on his lips. “The golden member. Angel…put it in under Kim Taehyung…yes…thank you, Seokjin.” Hanging up the phone, he merely glared at the older male. “They’ll be ready for you in the evening same time as the last one. Look presentable and for the love of god…” His glare sharpened. “…play nice.”

With a detached hum, Taehyung rushed out of the office skipping at every step to finally go outside of this place and to see the beautiful golden lady in the Sangria House.

Her heart jumped a little hearing that Kim Taehyung was going to visit the private room again and asked for Angel personally. She tried not to have favourite customers but truthfully the brunette had been the most comfortable to talk to. Most people would ask her questions on her talents in the bedroom or how much each service would cost. To many a golden angel was a literal cash cow for the owner so everyone grew curious as to just how much they were worth.

Months maybe years of training involved to be that perfect inhuman being who could make everyones’ dream come true if they had the right funds.

As any other work night for her anyway, Angel would pad into Seokjins’ office adorned in her signature golden dress which was soon going to be updated by a growing popular designer.

Knocking three times against the dark wood she heard the familiar voice invite her in. Clicking the door open, the girl closed the door behind her and stood in the center of the room like her normal routine. Head bowed, fingers intertwined with one another as she slowly bowed in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve received the list for today.” Seokjin muttered still looking a few paperwork as the angel raised herself up to her perfect posture.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Angel nodded.

“You don’t have to call me that behind closed doors, Angel.” He sighed knowing there was no way the member would listen to him anyway. Keeping up formalities according to her had been a way to ensure she did not take her current state for granted. “There’s a special task I’m giving for your session with Mr. Kim.”

“What is it?” She gained that slight bit of comfort to look him in the eye. Not that it was abnormal but usually Angel was in more sleep appropriate clothes or none at all when they had casual conversations.

Seokjin opened one of the doors in his desk and pulled out a vial with a dark purple shaded powder inside. He swirled the little particles in front of the curious girl. “This is a powder to help Mr. Kim feel more…comfortable during his session.” His voice lowered the slightest as if he was spewing a small secret.

Angel received many unusual requests from customers but rarely from the owner himself. He was always a simple man who found solace in his business. No funny work behind the scenes ever. Except now. Brows furrowed slightly but the woman nodded nonetheless not entirely having any choice but to agree. She gently took the powder before hiding it inside her jeweled hands. “How much do I give him?”

“It’s quite a weak dose so the entire vial should do the trick.” He smiled reassuringly however Angel did not feel quite consoled. “Mix it in his tea so it’s easier to take in.”

The woman felt the vial getting heavier and heavier in her hands as the realization became clear she was about mix a strange substance in a customers’ tea. Something about it felt strange. Angel remembered spending nights inside a club where she would catch bartenders sprinkling things into girls’ drinks but she wasn’t able to say anything to stop them.

Either way the golden lady took a deep breath before giving her husband a large smile and nodded. “Of course.” Angel bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin reached out and brushed his long fingers against her softly painted skin. For a moment behind closed doors breaking some of the walls of formality so he could truly show some care for the people he watched over. “Be safe.”

The heaviness in her hands now seeped into her chest when she sat inside the private room awaiting Taehyung. Except the vial was still clasped in her clutch while her eyes fixated on the tea pot. Seokjin never showed malice towards anyone let alone someone who barely visited the Sangria House. Maybe it wasn’t harmful at all and the methods just seemed controversial in her own mind.

Angel never lost anything from trusting Seokjin in the past so why should this be any different?

Taking another deep breath, her bangles tinkled as she popped the cork of the vial. A light lilac steam flowed out of it when Angel tipped open the tea pot lid and sprinkled the whole substance into it. Seokjin advised her not to have but one cup to ensure she did not lose her own sense while attempting to entertain the man on whatever he needed.

Whatever he needed.

What did he need?

Their first conversation was mostly soft conversations that merely scratched the surface because they both held dark secrets that neither wanted to admit in the first meeting. At least that was why Angel suspected from the slight emptiness behind his eyes. Like he lost a part of himself once.

Maybe tonight Taehyung grew curious of something more than talking.

It was rare for her to do anything but talk, dance or play the gayageum for whoever she entertained due to the high prices for something else.

Then again Taehyung was Jeon Jungkooks’ brother-in-law. The young man could buy the entire Sangria House if he wanted as Seokjin liked to joke about sometimes.

Pulling her back from her trance in thought, the door clicked open and Angel shot up. All her jewellery and the details in her dress welcomed the familiar customer like tiny little wind chimes. Walking to the center of the room and her composure back to normal the woman bowed with the utmost elegance. “Welcome, Mr. Kim.” She grinned.

Taehyung immediately grew speechless when he walked into the private room. Despite the constant mental conversations he had in his mind that he should be calm and collected, once he saw the golden lady, his heart leaped and his stomach filled with butterflies. Really who could blame him? She literally glowed like a goddess even the sun must be in love with her.

Not that he was too. But he still grew a little obsessed at admiring her every feature.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestured towards the space reserved for him.

The male stammered a little having mentally slap himself before giving her a nod and a friendly smile as he situated himself at the table. Angel sat next to him to ensure that the experience was as intimate as possible. Except now Taehyung felt the room was way too hot for him to tolerate.

With a slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, Angel poured the tea for the both of them and offered one to Taehyung which he accepted.

Almost immediately he took a sip to somehow alleviate the initial awkwardness of the session. Unfortunately Taehyung ended up downing the whole drink like some kind of tequila shot.

Angel tried to suppress the light giggle that tried to pass her lips and refilled his cup again. “What did you want to do today, Mr. Kim?” She asked with the most perfect smile, fingers perched carefully on her lap.

A light warmth passed through his body as soon as the first cup settled in. Whatever anxiety he had melted slightly; enough for him to give the girl a smile without feeling like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman before. “I—I actually just wanted to talk again.” Taehyung swallowed thickly wondering how stupid it must sound coming to a place like this only to make conversation.

Belle always tried to make him feel at home but it only made him feel worse. He could see how exhausted she was working all day and night while still attempting to keep a happy smile on her face for everyone else. For him. Not to mention the wedding creeping closer, Taehyung could almost feel the weight she must have on her shoulders.

The golden lady nodded in acknowledgement, loosening her posture just the slightest to ensure more comfort. “I’ve heard the other angels talk about Mr. Jeon and your sisters’ wedding.” Her eyes widened a little. A small tinge of excitement burst inside her at the excitement of it all. “Weddings in the Jeon family have always been so regal, a lot of the juniors were talking about their own ceremonies being that way.”

Taehyungs’ heart sank a little seeing how happy the woman got with the wedding. No part of him had the courage to stop her from talking about it; the way her eyes sparkled and her smile melted into something more genuine rather than calculated. He smiled politely before taking a generous swig of his tea, once again unable to determine just how little tea was actually inside it. “What was your wedding like?” He asked watching her refill his drink at perfect timing.

Now Angel could not escape steering away from the question considering she brought up the topic. “I didn’t have a ceremony.” She smiled. “It was a legal signing and…a few witnesses.” She muttered remembering Jimins’ welcoming grin when he saw firsthand the confirmation of her freedom.

He stared at the woman noticing the little tinge of sadness in her smile. A feature eerily familiar in his younger sisters’ smiles too. Except his heart did not sink too much after he drank up the third cup. In fact nothing much happened. His body seemed to come to a full stop in feeling down to his toes almost seeming non-existent. He had to wiggle them a little to ensue himself they were still there. “Their wedding will be beautiful.” Taehyung had a bitter taste in his tongue speaking of it. “You can come. I’m sure Belle would love to have you.”

The woman stammered a little before chuckling nervously. Angel never really attended events unless Seokjin was invited so she could go as a plus one. Despite their ‘marriage’, she was still to be considered an employee and not Mrs. Kim. “I think I might be working on that day.” She spoke honestly.

“What if I took you with me?” Taehyung asked, the words slipping out of his mouth with more ease now.

Angel quickly refilled his cup again not wanting to be a sub-par hostess before politely smiling at the male again. “I can’t go to outings without my husband.” She muttered.

“Husband…” He scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. “Right…sorry.” Once again Taehyung turned to the comfort of chugging the entire cup of tea. His fingers feeling numb and his ears a little blocked but in a comforting way. Like a warm blanket around him after a walk in the cold day. “Do you ever think about running away?”

“Running away?” She searched his expression which had been growing softer and his body looked more casual.

“Yeah…” Taehyung pushed out a small chuckle. “You know, away from everything. Just…to the country side somewhere and just live there all your life with no troubles.” He threw his head back a little and closed his eyes to relish in the distant dream.

Angel giggled lightly. “What about your sister?”

“I’d take her with me.” He replied without hesitation. “She always told me about wanting to go in the mountains and sewing all her clothes from there. A secret designer hidden deep in the mountains.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the dream. Maybe there were some days where the girl wished to leave all of this behind and live somewhere no one could ever touch her again. Where she could be free. But her current life held far too many responsibilities. Seokjin protected her from a worse fate and that was something Angel could spend the rest of her life repaying him for. “It sounds wonderful.”

Taehyung drawled out a deep hum before chugging down another cup he couldn’t keep count of. At this point his head and body felt like they were floating on a fluffy cloud that kind of smelled like jasmines. While his vision was hazier than ever creating a slight glow onto Angels’ face making her look literally like her namesake. A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drooped. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered.

Angel giggled shyly, lowering her head a little. “And you’re very handsome.” She patted the back of his hand.

“It’s just my luck…” He let out a deep sigh of defeat. “The first person I end up liking…turns out to be a married woman.” The male pouted, eyes trailing down her form not being able to hide all corners of his interest as the strange tea now flooded inside him. “If only we could just—close off the real world for a moment.” His finger seemed to gain the same loose mind and traced the back of her soft hand. “And I could show you how much I like you.”

The girl gently pulled her hand away and placed it back on her lap. Smile slowly faltering into something less genuine. “I can do whatever you want, Mr. Kim. But there are still rules.”

“What if what I want is against the rules?” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head as he searched her expression.

“Then we call security.” She chuckled nervously.

He laughed making his throat feel incredibly prickly. Shoulders shook as he coughed knocking the empty cup over accidentally which Angel quickly set up again. “It’s fine.” Taehyung raised a hand before filling up the tea cup himself albeit while shaking.

Her chest rose and fell watching him down another cup.

As soon as the liquid went down, he coughed again while pain settled in his chest. “Think I might be allergic to jasmines.” Taehyung stared at his cup with a small giggle passing his lips. “Anyway what was I saying?”

Angel had to remind herself that it was not fully Taehyung’s fault for the behavior he began to portray. Except that didn’t change the sinking feeling in her gut as the comfortable bubble they had between them now seemed to melt before her. “You were talking about what you wanted to do.” She answered in a small voice to keep her normal composure.

“You said you’d call security.” His voice grew a little raspy before he coughed again. “Does that mean holding your hand is against the rules?”

She nodded. “That rule is more applied to members like me.”

“Married members.” He traced his finger pad around the brim of the small cup. “But do you ever think about breaking the rules? Just a little.” Taehyung smirked shifting a little closer, his hand once again sliding to her part of the table. “

Angel attempted to smile again before shaking her head. “I’d rather not, Mr. Kim. Responsibilities are important to have—so we don’t get out of control.”

“Fuck responsibilities.” He scoffed leaning back. “I tried being responsible. Being the perfect son…always choose the best path, always be the better cause you are better.” Brick walls inside him turned to paper as anger now burned through it with ease. “All the while my little sister tried so hard. She’s perfect. The best person I’ve ever met and they fucking called her worthless.” Tears melted at the brim of his eyes spewing all these unsaid words. “Then they died…” Taehyung chuckled, vision growing blurry. “…leaving their daughter thinking they never loved her. Responsibility killed my family. They had the responsibility to make the perfect son and look what happened. They never taught me to live without them. Responsibility destroyed my baby sisters’ life.” He winced.

Despite the poison in his body, Taehyung still had that truth suppressed unable to word it out. Your sister is this mess because of you. Because you couldn’t be better. The heat burst through his loosened body unable to control or suppress the urge as he knocked the teapot and cup off the table with the back of his hand.

Pot shattered and cup cracked the male was overwhelmed with another coughing fit that stung his chest.

Angels’ eyes now glossy attempted to hold both her hands up to calm him down. “Taehyung, please.” She whispered. The woman dared to touch his shoulder while his head was lowered on the table. Her heart jumped when she saw the light splutter of red falling from his plump lips onto the wooden surface. Letting out a shaky sigh, she cupped both his cheeks to make him face her gaze. “Taehyung?”

His whole face looked like an utter mess, eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears and his lips trickling with his own blood. His chest was on fire and he couldn’t help but laugh a little again, teeth stained slightly. “This is what happens when you just talk.” Taehyung growled out. “Everything becomes a fucking mess.” He winced and pushed her off of him not wanting to face her while in this state even though his whole body had no energy to truly care.

“Help!” Angel yelled and almost mere seconds passed with the door bursting open, two guards walking inside. Following them was a concerned Seokjin padding into the room to check on her first.

“Did he hurt you?” His hand hovered her cheek.

She shook her head. “He’s sick, something’s wrong.” Angels’ gaze flickered from the blood splutters on the table to the young male being carried on each side by his arm.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin caressed the top of her head. “Take him to the Jeon household immediately. I will call Mr. Jeon to ensure he’s prepared with a treatment for him.” He explained in a much calmer demeanor than Angel was in at the moment.

One of the guards acknowledged his order before Taehyung was dragged less than gently out the door leaving Angel in her pool of anxiety.

“Keep a stiff upper lip, darling.” Fingers tapped on her chin to make her meet his gaze. “We can’t lose our focus, yes?”

Angel shook her head out of habit. The woman let her heart grow too soft for a man she only conversed with twice thus far. It was too dangerous to make herself dwell on the matter when he was—as much as it ached a little so say it—just a customer. She had responsibilities whether Taehyung or even she liked it or not. So Angel merely bowed and continued to get ready for her next session.

Afternoon faded into evening and evening faded into night but no sign of Taehyung. Worry creeped up as the hours passed by with Belle’s thoughts only growing darker instead of more optimistic. Of course she did not stop herself from scolding Jungkook for a few minutes about letting him go out to Sangria House.

The man simply reassured her that one of his guards were present outside of the House if something were to go wrong.

Adorned in her nightgown, Belle refused to rest on her bed despite Nana attempting to convince otherwise. She paced around the room with warmth spreading through her palms from the tea cup in her hands. Fingers tapped against the sides and the worry continued to infest throughout her entire body.

Then the door downstairs opened with a thud.

Slamming the cup onto the table the woman rushed out of the bedroom down the stairs, somewhere in the back of her mind hoping to see her brother safe and sound. Unfortunately luck was not a constant in the Kim Family when she saw Jungkooks’ guards carrying Taehyung inside.

Breath caught in her throat Belle took a few quick steps closer and drops of blood staining his chin and shirt like he was punched through his teeth. “What happened?”

“People at the house said he drank something and started acting weird.” One of the guards explained crudely while they moved to Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jungkook appeared from behind them, looking far more exhausted than ever.

Belle tried to clip her tongue from any more backlash on his decision and followed suit to her brother’s bedroom.

The maids pulled over the blankets so he could be plopped onto the soft surface, causing him to grunt a little under his breath. Belle pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor as the blanket loosely covered his body now.

“Didn’t they tell you what he drank?” She asked, pressing his hand against the male’s forehead but his skin wasn’t any more heated than normal.

“We have someone from our private med coming in tonight.” Jungkook padded into the bedroom after sending the guards out. The male had a slightly casual tone about him despite seeing the worry shaking from his future wife. Maybe he should have made more effort in feeling sorry but he knew this would happen. “He’ll be fine, baby.”

Belle refused to respond, eyes merely focusing on Taehyung who was having trouble keeping himself awake. He needed to be okay. He just had to. The wedding date slowly slithered closer now to a point where she felt like suffocating. Her brother was the only thread of hope she could hold onto to give her strength but now it just felt like they were back to square one all over again. Was this what Jungkook wanted? If Taehyung never got better than the girl would have no chance whatsoever to get away from him. She wouldn’t have any other choice but to stay here.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered every now and then seeing a blurry vision of dark hair and white clothing. For a moment he already confirmed his own death assuming maybe the figure before him was an angel. Except a few seconds he noticed Belle’s familiar features. “’m sorry…” He whispered.

She shook her head brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t apologize.” The last person Belle blamed was Taehyung. He wasn’t the one who made them stay here. He wasn’t the one who made the deal nor did he agree to it on his own accord.

Minutes passed before one of the guards walked in announcing that a medical apprentice arrived to the premise to help them out. A little irritated, Jungkook told them to bring the person in. The downside of private meds was that they always had to protect their own backsides from being seen by prying eyes in mob leaders’ households. They would then send apprentices to do the job for them especially if it’s not a serious case.

Through the door walked in a raven haired male with a white shirt and some pants on looking the complete opposite of what any med should look like.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first day.” Jungkooks’ eyes judged him up and down right through his very core.

The apprentice cleared his throat as he stared down at his outfit. “It wasn’t really my shift tonight, sir. I was told this was an emergency.”

“Mi amor, this isn’t the time find out who the next top model is.” Belle retorted walking over to the entrance as she gave the apprentice a small friendly smile.

Jungkook noticed the guards’ eyes widen a little at the way she spoke to him. Not to mention the little nickname blatantly spewed in front of most of the staff.

“They said he drank something strange—”

The apprentice nodded looking over at the tanned male struggling to sleep peacefully, body jerking as he coughed. “My supervisor said it was a new drug that was sent to him for testing once. Manufacturer didn’t have a name but he called it Shade Terror…” He looked at both Jungkook and Belle. “May I?” He gestured to Taehyung.

Belle saw the apprehension in her fiancées’ expression. Granted the woman would be hesitant to let a trainee try and help her brother but she couldn’t just let him stay in pain until something else was available. Reaching out, she gently held onto his pinky and ring finger as a silent way of pleading that he let the man help Taehyung.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Yoongi…sir.” He bowed once again to enhance a vulnerable state in front of him. His face did not exactly scream ‘meek’ after all.

The young lord nodded and gestured towards Taehyung so he could start with his work. As soon Yoongi situated himself next to the bed, Jungkook turned his head to face Belle for a moment. On any other day a new face trying to do medical work under his roof would have gone through hundreds of investigations and gun to their head while they worked. So why was it Jungkook couldn’t find the courage to do the same now? Especially when Belle met his gaze and gave him a light smile to quietly thank him for agreeing.

Detaching their hands Belle walked back to the other side of the bed and watched Yoongi press his fingers against the side of Taehyungs’ neck. His way of working was definitely a lot more careful than that of a more experienced doctor but it looked far more reassuring. He placed a small wooden box on the nightstand before flicking it open and pulling out a vial filled with a pale blue milky liquid.

“We need to make him sit up.” He spoke in a slightly shy demeanor.

Belle nodded and gently pulled Taehyung up to a sited position as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her older brother whined light under his breath before lulling off to a messy sleep again.

Yoongi pulled the cork off of the vial before forcing the mans’ mouth open by pressing through his cheeks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured the liquid down his throat before clamping his mouth and nose shut forcing him to swallow it down.

She wanted to protest for a moment but immediately saw how Taehyung tried to resist the medicine, thrashing about on the bed until the blanket was almost off the bed.

Once the apprentice pulled away her older brother drowned into a coughing fit.

“He might vomit for a while to get the toxins out.” Yoongi spoke as he clapped the small box shut.

After a few more minutes of whining and light thrashing, Taehyung finally breathed out into a calmer state of relaxation before lulling off to sleep again.

The apprentice was about to walk out of the room before Jungkook stepped in front of him, hands pressed firmly against his chest.

“You’re staying here until we know he’s okay.” His glare shot like daggers, distrust practically oozing through his veins at the strange face.

Belle wondered a little to herself how he had so much trust issues for this apprentice but had all the confidence in the world to marry her without any knowledge of how she was. Either way for once she could relate to his suspicion. If the ‘antidote’ somehow made Taehyung worse then she’d want Yoongi in the mansion, accessible for proper punishment.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder to face the young woman who had a much kinder expression but even she grew hardened at the sign of distrust. Not that the man could truly blame her, for all they knew he could have gave the tanned man poison. So he nodded and stood back waiting for a few guards to lead him to a guest room. Weeks of training to just get enough inside information on Jungkook instead he was now literally invited into their home as a guest for the night. Granted on darker circumstances but it deemed to be a strange step forward.

Morning rushed in with a light warmth and Belle persisted to stay in Taehyungs’ bedroom the whole night despite everyone else’s attempt at convincing her otherwise. For a few hours she was able to travel back to a simpler time when she would snuggle into her older brothers’ bed whenever the darkness got difficult to deal with alone. Taehyung kept her in his arms all night telling her she was worth so much more than what their parents pushed on the girl.

What he didn’t truly know was that his love was strong enough to be all she needed. At some point Belle stopped longing for her parents’ validation knowing there was one amazing person already treating like she should be.

She wanted to do the same and make sure he knew in all this mess there was one person who always loved him more than anything.

Gold peeked through the curtains when the older male shifted in his position, eyes opening to a silhouette sleeping next to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips seeing the familiar face. For a few moments, Taehyung could pretend they were a normal family again without the real world around them trying to crumble it down or tear them apart. Those few minutes were sacred until he saw the shining ring around her finger. The ring she probably never wanted but took so he could heal. Now as his smile disappeared and his eyes burned, he was painfully reminded of the sacrifice Belle was going to make in a few days.

Taking in a deep breath, Belle slowly moved herself awake widening her eyes a little before she met with Taehyungs’ gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” She giggled tiredly.

“Just checking if you actually did that.” Taehyung smiled again.

“You look better now.”

“I feel better. Aside from the vomiting, this room stinks.” He winced not wanting to look at a soiled bin on his side of the bed.

Belle shifted to lay on her back with a relaxed sigh. Eyes flickered over to her phone for the time; only a few hours until she had to go to work. But she could risk a few minutes for this rare moment where it was just the two of them. No maids, no guards, no Jungkook. Just a brother and a sister. “What happened, Tae?” She whispered.

“It wasn’t me.” Taehyung answered simply. “Seriously, I went into Sangria House and talked to Angel and…drank jasmine tea. I don’t think I’m allergic to jasmines.”

“The private med that came in said it was the symptoms of a drug.” Belle turned her head to meet his gaze. He had tried to lie about these things before but she could tell he had no idea this would happen to him at all.

“Jungkook probably asked them to slip something in my drink.” He scoffed.

It wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing the man had done in his lifetime especially from the things Belle had seen and heard in this house.

Her silence seemed to trigger a spark inside Taehyung’s body as he searched her expression. “You’re thinking that too, aren’t you?”

Belle swallowed down her words despite how strong they wanted to be sung across her tongue. “He’s a horrible man…but he can’t be that desperate to be married…I think.” Her brows furrowed not sure of anything she spoke out.

“He was desperate enough to put a ring on a stranger.” He retorted.

She hated how closely their thoughts aligned. There were so many things wrong about this situation but if this was true then Jungkook may be worse than he lets on in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” A smile stretched across her slightly chapped lips.

“You matter too.” Taehyung felt that familiar choke in his throat like his grip slipped and he was forced to watch Belle fall into this abyss. “You mean so much to me. How am I supposed to feel better if you’re hurting in the process?”

Belle quickly moved her gaze to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m not hurting, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers with his trying to give him some form of reassurance.

“Morning…” Jungkook walked through the door of the bedroom, now in a fresh new suit and curled hair with a glass juice in his hand. “How’re you feeling?” He asked albeit not in the most compassionate tone.

“Fine.” Taehyung muttered.

The woman shifted to sit up on the bed, straps of her nightie falling over her shoulder as she stood up. “He only drank the jasmine tea in Sangria House.” Belle spoke simply. “Is there a special recipe that we should have known about?” Her arms folded over her chest, eyes growing a little sharp pointing at Jungkook.

“Jasmines and water?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know drugs more than a lot of people. What do you think that—Shade Terror thing could’ve been?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.” Except Jungkook may have had a small clue on what exactly was mixed into Taehyungs’ tea. The question he did not know the answer to was why. True Seokjin had some less than kind methods for people who might be treating his angels improperly. Maybe Taehyung did something that he was not saying to anyone.

Somehow Jungkooks’ lack of knowledge created more suspicion than there was due between the siblings. Belle padded closer to the male who immediately caressed her forearm. “You didn’t kill the medical apprentice yes?”

“Not yet.”

She looked over her shoulder giving her older brother a small smile. “We’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

For the first time in a while, Taehyung had a more relaxed heart looking at his sister despite the man next to her making his blood boil at the same second.

Belle pulled Jungkook towards the bar gently with a deep sigh.

“There’s something else.” He broke the brief silence immediately.

“What did you and Seokjin talk about that night?” She turned to face him properly.

The curly haired male scoffed lightly, placing his glass on the table. “It was business.”

“Seokjin owns a brothel, you own a cartel. What kind of business would you two be talking about exactly?”

Jungkook had to admit to himself, the woman was more intelligent than she let on and he wondered whether that was useful or more dangerous in this particular situation. “You think I had something to do with your brothers’ problem?”

“Yes.” A deadly silence plunged into the room as the guards and maids now felt far too comfortable to be in the living room. “Now answer my question.”

The male sighed knowing there was no reason to embarrass himself by trying to lie to a woman who had already seen his true colours. “We were discussing a new drug that Seokjin wanted to distribute through our cartel. I suppose he wanted to use it on his customers as a test run.” He shrugged.

“So you knew this might happen to Taehyung?”

“Of course I didn’t know it could happen to him.”

“But you knew the testing was going on and you still let him go to the House.”

“I’m not his father, Belle, it’s not my responsibility to keep him in check.” He gestured roughly towards the room.

Belle scoffed bitterly. “This is the responsibility you got when you decided to stick your fingers into our lives.” She took a step closer. “No one asked you to do all of this. We had the money to make all of this go away.” The heat spread through her so fast, her fingers began trembling and her head grew heavy. “So don’t fucking act like this is some big inconvenience only to you.”

Their conversation broke apart and attentions turned to the raven haired male standing just a few inches away from the bar as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry…I was called.” Yoongi replied simply, pretending he didn’t hear the answer to Namjoons’ burning question about Belle and Jungkooks’ sudden relationship. Hands settled behind his back and a neutral expression plaster across his features, he waited for one of the dual powers to speak up.

Belle faded back into a soft expression before smiling at Yoongi like she had not been incredibly distressed a few seconds ago. “I wanted to say thank you. My brother is all better now.” She walked away from the counter, closer to the raven haired male. “How much do we need to pay you?”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. “My supervisor told me not to ask for any payment—”

“But you came all this way…” She muttered.

“An invitation to the wedding perhaps.” Jungkook spoke up now, leaning on his hands against the edge of the counter. “Your supervisor could come along as a plus one.”

Yoongis’ lips parted as he met Belle’s gaze who gave him an encouraging nod. An invitation to a stupid wedding did not seem like a prize of any sort but he assumed being a guest to such a prestigious ceremony was a gift. Either way he couldn’t exactly disagree to the offer now that it was on the table so he gave them both a smile that could constitute as grateful. “Thank you so much…I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come to the event.”

“I’m sure he will.” The other male gave him a forced smile despite being hyper aware of the eyes that were on them when Belle snapped. Everyone would remember now. The girl who walked in here being manipulated slowly grew hardened to her struggles and had every ounce of courage to fight back. It was a red flag shouting at him to pull the trigger…prevent any more problems from arising. Except he loved the anger. The fire in her eyes gave him life and vigor, he couldn’t just take it away. Whether that would be a good decision or bring his downfall was up to fate now.

Night fell cloudy as Boyoung entered the Jeon household just two days before her nephews’ big wedding.

Belle sat in her bedroom watching her dress getting steamed by Nana while she sent a few emails confirming the date of the Spring Line fashion show. Since Saito placed her own hand into the line, the venue and date had to be perfect enough for the most important guests to arrive during that time. The show was going in over three months but her anxiety creeped in already.

Last time the woman had a fashion show, she missed it completely on account of getting her brother to a safe place. That was one of the smaller ones though. This one would have designers from far and wide coming in just to see these designs on show, critics, celebrities and a venue so majestic Belle almost got nauseous just looking at the pictures. It was going to be the pivotal moment of her career. If this went well then orders would come in like a waterfall and her name would be solidified in the industry.

She had to force herself to take a deep breath before her whole body exploded in her heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement.

“Belle, dear.” Boyoung knocked twice before peeking through the open door. A smile immediately tugging at her lips when she saw the younger female.

She peered through her glasses before closing her laptop and placing it on her nightstand. As soon as the girl tried to get up the older woman put her hands up.

“Please sit, darling.” She giggled padding over and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Boyoung placed her purse on the soft surface before pulling out a steel container. “I know you can buy your own but just for tonight.” She removed the lid to show that it was filled almost to the brim with pomegranate seeds shining a little like rubies in the light.

Belle tilted her head before chuckling softly. “What is this for?”

“Eat a lot of pomegranate seeds from now on.” Her eyes widened a little from her own excitement, placing the container in her hands with care. “It’s going to help with bearing a child.”

If the anxiety was strong before, it shot through of her head now making her entire body tremble. Belle hoped her true reaction did not seem too obvious when she forced to smile at the woman. She knew a lot of families vowed to traditional means to help bearing children but that was not what shocked.

Bearing children.

Children.

Making lives.

Bringing more innocent lives into this world.

Into this mess.

It was now more than ever Belle could relate herself to Persephone. Being given pomegranates to make her stay in the Underworld permanently. She was never going to escape this place if she had Jungkooks’ child in her belly. The woman would be bound to this world, etched on it like the phoenix tattoo on her fiancées skin.

Whether Taehyung got better or not. There would be no escaping after that.

“I’ve never seen Jungkook happier than I have now.”

Because he’s getting exactly what he wanted all along.

“You really made a difference.” Boyoung patted her cheek, eyes looking a little glossy as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Belle sighed lightly with a shaking smile still struggling on her face. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

The older woman nodded glancing behind to see the gorgeous dress hanging on the large stand, chuckling. “I’ll leave you to your privacy…while you still have it.” She teased.

Once Boyoung left the room, Nana paused in her work and looked over at Belle with a worried expression. Much to her heartbreak the young girl broke into silent tears as she placed the contained on the nightstand. Placing the steamer down she padded over to her mistress and said nothing but pulled her in for an embrace. “You’ll be okay, dear. You have a strong heart.”

Then why did it feel like it was crumbling to a million pieces from too much pressure?

“Her older brother?” Namjoons’ voice spoke through the phone.

Yoongi shook himself slightly to fight away the cold despite the confines of the glass booth around him. “Yeah he’s been living in the Jeon mansion for a while I’m guessing. Belle also said something about her having the money. Her brother might have had a debt of some sort.” He glanced around the darkening streets spotting only a few stumbling groups passing by in a fit giggles. “Jungkook refused the money…”

“Leverage maybe? To marry Belle?”

“Yandere move.” He muttered under his breath. “Whatever’s going on, Jungkook seems a little soft for the girl.”

“That’s never good.” Though Yoongi could hear the slight bounce in Namjoons’ tone.

Soft meant weakness. A word hardly associated with Jungkook under any circumstances but now it might strike a ray of hope. “Belle’s smart though. She was able to fish out information on Seokjin making the new drug…and she wants me to stay in the mansion tonight too.”

Silence plunged between the call for a few minutes before Namjoon spoke again. “You think she’s suspicious?”

“I think she’s careful. After that whole Sangria House drama, she probably wants to keep her brother safe so having a medical apprentice seems the way to go.” He hung his head slightly irritated that these were all assumptions at this point. Yoongi thought Jungkook would be hard to read but now he had to be careful of the new queen about to be crowned in the cartel. “I know it’s not enough—”

“No, you kidding? That’s a lead. Jeon weddings are where the family is going to be most vulnerable. Meaning no executions, no drama, it’s all about the celebration.” Namjoon explained almost in a whisper which meant that the male must have still been in the precinct working. “It’s the perfect time to get on their best side.”

Yoongi nodded quickly moving to hang up before he heard Namjoon make a noise again. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

He smirked. “I’m always careful.”

Belle got herself adorned in a simple mustard body con dress with some light makeup and her hair done loosely as she walked down the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. Two guards stopped her at the front asking it was too dark for her to be out. It was a spur of the moment decision to just get out of the house on her own accord for once.

Except she knew she had to be smart about it. Going out at night when so many people knew her face and name now was risky. But she didn’t want any of the guards to be stuck to her the whole time.

“Yoongi will come with me.”

The older male barely managed spent a few minutes on his own after the short conversation in the phone booth with Namjoon. He merely walked out of his bedroom for a moment to check on Taehyung before Belle dedicated him to a night out.

“The–the medical apprentice, ma’am?” One of the guards stammered.

“He looks able-bodied and Taehyung’s crashed for the night. It’s only a couple of hours, gentlemen, I’m sure the world won’t end.” A few more minutes of jabbing a sharp expression towards the guards they eventually caved and told her the car was coming in soon.

Yoongi only had his white shirt which was re-washed surprisingly quickly by the maids so he would not smell putrid by the day. It was like living in a house of robots who just did what Jungkook asked. Except for this woman. She looked like the only person moving in real time.

Once the car was pulled in, Belle asked Yoongi to drive since she felt a little too anxious to concentrate.

“Where to?”

“Sangria House.”

Without asking any questions, Yoongi drove on with a heavily engraved memory of where the location was. The car ride itself was deeply silent making the male incredibly aware that he was completely alone with Belle. Would it be too quick to just tell her what’s going on? It didn’t seem like she had any worries defying Jungkook but that could mostly just be so she could act as a balance of power in the cartel.

Best to stay quiet, he told himself.

The car stopped in front of the establishment causing Belle to let out a deep sigh. “Could you wait here?” She asked in a soft tone now. “I’m sorry to pull you into this but I think it’s better if I took someone who wasn’t directly Jungkooks’ guard for this meeting. I promise I’ll explain your absence to him.”

When the woman gave him a reassuring smile, Yoongi felt his heart sink a little. One thing he despised about himself is how easily he could see something broken behind a persons’ eye. He would see it in the seventeen year old school girl who had to explain how her principal called her into his office every week but it was never because she was in trouble. He would see it in the convicted young man who tried to recount the events that led to him murdering his uncle. He saw it here and now. That broken nature all in a smile that meant she tried to survive something that was too much to take. Or was trying to survive. Despite the pressure of thoughts in his mind, he nodded in agreement before Belle walked out of the car.

“Ms. Belle!” Seokjin announced as Belle was escorted into his office by one of the white angels. Another junior angel poured them some tea in two cups before bowing and leaving the room. “Please sit.”

Swallowing down, the woman padded over to the table and carefully sat down on one of the chairs feeling a light breeze in the room. She regretted not getting a shawl of some sort but this was meant to be a quick meeting.

“Some tea?” He gestured with that same trained smile he always had for all his customers and business partners.

Belle stared at the filled up and merely smiled. “I’ve grown a little wary of tea at the moment.”

Seokjins’ lips twitched a little almost losing the calculated grin he adorned so gracefully. “I suppose that’s understandable.” He chuckled under his breath. “Though I assure you I don’t drug valued partners.” He nodded to himself. “But we’re not really talking about the tea here. What did you want to talk about?”

“Sangria House has been a pride and joy for tradition and beauty, yes? But you also want to influence the future generation which is why our partnership exists.” She leaned back on her chair. “Have we not made sufficient dresses?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head.

“Does it not look expensive enough?”

“It looks absolutely marvelous.”

“Then why is it, Mr. Kim, that you seem to need another business transaction with my future husband?” Belle tilted her head, searching his expression.

Seokjin chuckled lightly. “I am an active businessman, Ms. Belle.”

“An active businessman who tries to distribute a faulty product.” She continued simply. “I’m not an expert on drugs and do correct me on this but aren’t drugs supposed to make you feel good? At least on the first day, one should not start coughing out blood and losing their mind.”

“It still has its tweaks.” His smile slowly started fading away for a moment.

“Then fix it before you test it on the wrong people.”

“Madam, are you suggesting I stop making this business transaction with your fiancée? Wouldn’t that be unfair to Mr. Jeon? Having this discussion without his approval?”

“I think Mr. Jeon needs a little bit of unfair in his life.” Belle smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to pause any discussions or testing on this transaction until ours is finished. I’m a little possessive like that, I prefer full focus.” She scrunched her nose. “Once we’re done with the Spring Line show and all is successful, you can begin…your experimentation as you please. Does that sound fair enough?”

Silence plunged into the room as Seokjin had to collect himself for a few moments at the proposal thrown at him. “I can see why Mr. Jeon took an interest in you.” He chuckled a little nervously. “Alright…as a way to sincerely apologize for my actions, I will halt any discussions on the new product with your husband. All the focus will be on our line…Madame Belle.”

Jungkook never truly cared about the complete wellbeing for Taehyung. It was all conveniently to keep the deal alive. So if she couldn’t win with him on a personal level then maybe damaging him on a business level might just give her leverage.

Was this going to help her life with Jungkook become more pleasant? No. Not at all.

But this was her only way to take control of something again. Jungkooks’ successes in getting money from this new drug now relied on her milestone, not his power.

A few more formalities and Belle was led into one of the private rooms where she saw Jimin sitting with a bright smile waiting for her.

The lavender adorned male immediately got to his feet, bowing down until he was almost on his knees. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It was like all the responsibilities and pressures on her shoulders immediately pulled off of her when she walked into the room. Inside these walls the woman could forget the world outside just for an hour.

Belle hated to admit that she had been visiting Jimin in secret for the past month now just after her work so it could be passed off as overtime. It was sneaky behavior and she despised stooping to such a level but she had to. Getting out of that house and being out of the boutique just for a while was exactly the time Belle needed to feel sane. Forgetting ones’ problems never solved them but she wanted the weight off. Jimin knew exactly how to do that.

Once the lavender angel slid the doors close leaving just the two of them.

All responsibilities were gone.

Just peace.

Eventually the fantasy hour had to finish. Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped out of the establishment, rain pouring down violently in the dark night. One of the guards from the House gave her an umbrella and led her to the car where Yoongi jumped out of the car to open it for her. A silly move since now he was drenched.

“Sometimes chivalry can die, you know.” Belle chuckled a little watching the poor thing shiver as he started the car.

“Believe me, ma’am I thought the same thing as I walked out.” Yoongi couldn’t hold in a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. God, was this woman a fucking siren or something? “How was your session?”

She nodded before looking out the window at the blurry view outside. “It was nice.” The right corner of his lips twitched a little.

Yoongi hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head, glad he had to fully focus on the road and shiver throughout the whole car ride.

Belle chuckled flicking the heater on and directing the vents towards him. “I just talk to them unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“I’d look like an ass if I assumed something like that, madam.” He spoke before taking a deep breath as he felt the calming heat touch his skin.

“Please call me Belle, I sound like such an aunt when people call me madam.” She briefly held his arm creating more warmth for him.

Yoongi almost felt a little deprived when she pulled her hand away. “Belle…right.” He scoffed out a small breathy laugh.

The mustard adorned woman relaxed into the seat a little with a long sigh, her sweet smile disappearing a little. “I like talking to them…him, it’s just one person. It—it’s the only place I can really talk to someone without…feeling like something’s going to go wrong.” Her brows furrowed as she swallowed. “It might sound a little stupid.”

“No…” He jutted out his bottom lips as he shook his head. “No it’s not stupid at all.”

Belle trailed her gaze to face his expression, raven fringe hovered over his eyes but he seemed to see everything on the road with the way he was driving. “You think so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “In the world you live in…I can’t exactly antagonize you for talking to someone just to relax or feel sane at the very least.” He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help where you can.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” She muttered.

“I should probably thank you for not letting Jungkook kill me that night.” He smirked.

“Well you did dress up like an idol reject.” Belle giggled.

“Point taken.”

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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mrslackles · 4 years ago

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what do you think are gg's biggest flaws?

Ooh, Anon! It’s like you’re in my head.

I’m busy making a video (that will probably never see the light of day) about this -- my distance from the show has really helped with some super objective clarity -- so I’ll use my notes from that to help me answer.

I’ll preface this by saying what I was most shocked by after putting down all the points was that Rio isn’t even mentioned until really far down??

Anyway, let's get into it.

These are Good Girls' greatest flaws in my opinion (and relative to season 1 -- while I think it had its flaws too, the list is far smaller and I think that's a separate post)

1. It didn't stick to its guns

What set this show apart from others in the 'Everyday person does crime (poorly)' genre was its comedic lightness, strong friendship element, relatability and emphasis on girl power.

a) By season 2, the lightness was already slowly disappearing to make way for season 3's darkness. (Quite literally; this show said sunlight scenes for WHO.) It also stopped being as fun. Remember how it genuinely used to be fun? I mean let's not forget The Best Scene Ever where Ruby shoots Big Mike by accident and we all laughed our asses off. (Compare and contrast to a similar-in-tone-and-context scene -- or even the whole episode -- like Boomer popping up behind them as Rio's package in season 3.) I think season 3 had some great lines and laughs, but in general, the fun element was completely missing for me.

b) As was the friendship. We already know Annie and Ruby basically became Beth's backup dancers in season 2, but at least then they still seemed to have some type of agency. In season 3, they rarely question Beth's (truly questionable) decisions, don't talk to her about shit like why she's still with her horrible husband and have very few true friendship moments as they did in season 1.

c) Which made it less relatable, but what also contributed was the major plot holes (it's less easy to relate when you're constantly having to remind yourself to suspend your disbelief). And, to be honest, their stupid actions. Just the most common-sense things weren't followed, like not taking your children to a crack den or not putting a hit out on a gang leader. It's frustrating watching a TV show -- where characters are supposed to learn things, have arcs and improve over time -- and feeling like you have more logical sense than all the main characters in every scene. (WHO would think a hitman was going to use a sniper rifle on people in broad daylight on the side of the road???)

d) You don't have to look any further than the title or the stans who shout "THE SHOW IS ABOUT THE GIRLS" -- or, hell, the first 10 seconds of the show where Sara is literally talking about the glass ceiling -- to know that the main characters being women is very important to the show. If not formally feminist, it was at least supposed to be empowering or feel like "girl power" (a term I hate, but we won't get into that now).

And I think it did it pretty well in season 1 -- it actually played on my favourite theme of the show, which is the world's perception of these women being what ultimately allows them to get away with so much. (Rife with opportunities for commentary about white privilege, but also a genius way to upend patriarchal beliefs.) But more and more it seemed like the show was asking you to accept empowerment as simply "these things are being done by women, yay".

And, well.

2. Its marketing

I'll keep this one short because I think we all know how messed up this situation is. Basically they're selling a show (every week!) that they're not making while ignoring all feedback on every social media platform. Which brings us to...

3. The marriage of Death

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times -- Beth's character development starts with getting rid of Dean. Her growth is stunted by him on multiple fronts and it's frustrating to viewers since she's constantly put forth as the main character. Not to mention how the audience, separately from Beth, was originally conditioned to see Dean as the scum of the earth (think of scenes like him crashing his car because he was perving on a woman jogging) so keeping them together is really... a choice. To actively root for this marriage (which seems like what the show wants, at least for the protracted moment) means either thinking Dean is a great person (which, as I said, we've only seen the opposite of) or believing he's all Beth deserves. Which leads me to...

4. Beth's (socio)path(y)

Is sociopath a 'good' word? Probably not. Have I seen dozens upon dozens of posts talking about whether Beth is one? Yes. And I see it from a huge variety of people -- from viewers who just binged the show last weekend to those who've been watching for years, the question keeps coming up. And I entirely blame the writing of the show that, by the way, I don't believe is deliberately creating Beth to get this reaction. I think she's written (and, to an extent, acted) in a way that is much too aloof and I'm not convinced it's meant to come off as cold and unfeeling as it does. Everything else leads me to believe that the audience is supposed to root for Beth, but it's just so difficult.

Beth does a lot of messed up shit that requires dialogue to sympathise with her and the inner workings of her mind, but in the later seasons Beth rarely gets to express herself verbally. And every time she does get to speak about her emotions, the dialogue is a pick-your-own-adventure between "She's in so much denial", "This person feels no emotions" and "I'll go find an analysis/fic later to explain this" (scenes like "Nothing" or "I was just bored"). Compare and contrast with some of the great scenes in season 1 where she emotes, like her paralysing shock after they first rob the store or admitting she enjoys crime, or (one of my favourites!) the one in the park where she's mimicking the other mothers beside her.

5. Brio

I said in the beginning that I was shocked Rio doesn't get mentioned until this point and that's because I've always felt like he was an integral part of the show. When people say the show is about the girls, they're truncating -- the show is about the girls getting into crime. That crime is represented by Rio over and over again -- they never bring in another criminal at his level (which is another one of its flaws, but that's also a different post); Rio is it.

And though I stand by Rio's importance, the truth is that Brio isn't as essential to the show, by which I mean that if all of the above were done well, it wouldn't be as sorely missed. In lieu of riveting plot, a fun friendship, character development and empowerment, most viewers have glommed onto Brio like a lifeboat (or ship, heh).

Unfortunately it's also what the show has most stubbornly refused to develop significantly.

It's honestly a toss-up for why I feel Brio is a flaw: is the flaw that they got together? That they never got together well enough? That the writing keeps bringing in these 'chemistry-filled' scenes that are ultimately filled with air?

I don't know. Maybe all of them; maybe just one, depending on the day.

6. Its criticism falls flat without intersectionality

This is a big one because Good Girls is *trying* to do something very clever. As mentioned previously, my favourite theme of the show is how the women's apparent innocence/vulnerability in the eyes of society is their biggest strength. The show plays with this and other interesting themes with varying levels of success, but ultimately they all fall a little flat when they don't feel intersectional.

When Ruby gets sidelined. When Turner, who sees and all but calls out by name Beth's privilege, is portrayed as the villain. When Rio is told he's gonna "pop a cap" in his young child's "ass". When the racist grandma becomes a sympathetic character whom we must later grieve. (And she really didn't have to be racist, now that I think about it? It was just that one line for laughs and that was it.) When, despite the real-world implications, Dean can loudly announce in a store that he's buying a gun to kill someone with and the show just glides past it. When Ruby has to grovel for forgiveness from Beth for trying to protect her husband and family from the system, with no acknowledgement from Beth about how their realities are different. When Rhea gets booted off the show as soon as she's done serving Beth's plot. When Rio gets treated like a prostitute for absolutely no reason. (Oh, and is accused of raping Beth and is literally spoken of as an animal and starts only existing in zero dim lighting as a one-dimensional stereotype... the list goes on.)

7. PR/The actors

I'll risk my life here to sprinkle this in because I do think it's a massive problem. The Manny/Christina of it all is just the tip of the iceberg (although wtf Good Girls? There's nothing you could do to get these two into an interview together??). The main actors do the bare minimum to promote the show and it's weird. I also think it's the height of unprofessionalism to keep characters on the show against the wishes of the majority of the audience just because you enjoy their actors (Boomer confirmed; Dean highly suspected). While, on the flip side of the coin, limiting a character's screentime because you aren't best buddies with them. Having less and less Rio when he's such a fan favourite is dumb; as is not including him in any series marketing material. It feels personal and that isn't how a TV show should be run.

8. The entire hair and wardrobe department needs a stern talking-to

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bagog · 3 years ago

Text

What On Earth Has Happened

Hey, no story here, no experiments. Just a play by play of an awful year in my life. Please don't reblog. Trying to just get it down in one place for people who care about me. Long, sob-story beneath the cut.

Air - 'Things are looking up!' I had started to drift a bit from tumblr. The porno purge came and a lot of my friends trickled off the platform after that. I went back to school, attempting to score myself a Masters degree in something that would pay enough to get me out of Student Debt. I was doing great, picking things up fast. I got a new job at a company doing pretty menial work, but the people I worked with were great conversationalists. The work didn't involve dealing with customers at all, paid well, and was small and accomplishable tasks. Essentially I was being prepped to take a better position at the place once I had my Masters. Covid happened, then. Earth - 'The Whole World Sucks Right Now' My company was "essential," so I continued going to work, now on weird schedules. The company I worked for was profiting off Covid, all the while making fun of it as an overblown conspiracy, even as their own epidemiologist urged them to take better precautions. Work became hard to swallow. Water - 'When your lowest place could be lower' The apartment I shared with my boyfriend flooded. The lowest place in any sewage system is typically the bathtub, such that if it backs up, it does so into that tub. Our lowest point is the toilet. So the apartment flooded. Three times. Roots growing through the sewage outflow meant that, often, you needed to wait a solid hour between toilet flushes, or else the toilet would back up with such gusto the sewage would slosh down the hallway and into the living room. We mopped many times. The problem was finally fixed 8 months later, necessitating our having to camp because our house had no water. Fire - 'To destroy all you've done' One afternoon, I smelled burning. Going to our bedroom, I found our shelf a column of flame. I could barely breathe for all the smoke, but I managed to grab a blanket and beat the fire out. On the other side of the room, the pages of the books upon another shelf had begun to crisp from the heat, the blinds on all the windows were warped. The whole apartment had been about to go up. I'm kinda scared of fire now. Heart - 'When moving is too much to ask' Personal health sorta hit a new low. Migraines kept me out of work for two full weeks. I have seasonal foot pain, I always assumed from hiking for a living in my 20s. Turns out it was gout, all the while. Gout is exceptionally painful: it's like a messy pile of razor blades in the ball of your foot every time you step down. At work, I could barely stand. Walking from my car to the door became something I needed to psyche myself up for. Not a lot can stop a gout flare-up once it's in full swing, so I just had to wait it out. For a month. Two. Some of the worst sustained pain I've been in. Little did I know that, in January, come the kidney stones. Kidney stones feel awful. Feel like total shit. Gout and kidney stones are comorbid--brought about as a result of the meds I take to help me focus. So any day I don't drink enough water is a day when my kidneys or my foot just starts aching. But going back to September of 2020... Homophobia - 'goddammit' Finally things are looking better. I'm limping quickly again. Then I am called into the HR office. I am told that two sexual harassment charges have been brought against me. I'm told that one individual has alleged that I, while in the restroom, used a reflective toilet brush to attempt to peep him under a stall wall. I did not do this. I do not understand--reflective toilet brush?? wtf. The second allegation: I just straight up looked over a stall at a guy. I didn't do this either. I'm asked to defend myself, I ask who or date or time of day. I am given nothing. I remark that I don't think I'm tall enough to see over the stall, and I do not understand about the toilet brush. Of the ten minutes of the meeting, I spend 8 of them trying to get my head around how a claim about a reflective toilet brush has me here. "Would you like us to go now to see if you're tall enough to see over the stall? If that would help your defense?" says the HR head. "Yes, I

would," says I. We did not go. I am told that the accusers have no reason to be collaborating, or to even know each other made a claim. This is bullshit, because it was a company of 80 people, and only a quarter of those employees used the restroom where my alleged harassment was to have taken place. Before I am dismissed from work for the day to go home and wait to find out if I'll be fired or not, I march into the HR office once more and say "I hope none of this is happening because I'm gay." The HR head looks positively offended. I got fired cuz I'm gay. Next day I got a call. They'd come to the "objective truth" (that phrase is burned in my mind), and were terminating me. Apparently they discounted the toilet brush rumor, after all. But they really honestly believed I looked over the stall at a dude. Nightmare - 'No Fear One Fear' Let me tell you something: this is a nightmare. This is my honest-to-god nightmare. I've been terrified of getting accused of something in a bathroom since I was 11 years old. I am incredibly self-conscious and careful in public restrooms. To be fired? From a place full of people I like? And all of them will think I'm a pervert. My boyfriend worked at the same place. He would now have to work there every day dealing with people looking at him and wondering what he must think of his boyfriend. That sent me on a spiral. I'm still out of work, almost a year later. It would have been the worst mental health crisis of my life if it wasn't for my boyfriend, my support network, and the meds I've finally been able to get ahold of. Oh, also. My two accusers? Were roommates. HR knew they were roommates. They basically collaborated on a story to get me fired. The story circulating around the place (I still have acquaintances I talk to working there) has dropped the reflective toilet brush entirely. I guess they thought it was too unbelievable. So anyway, the people who accused me are now telling a different set of events than what I was told. Absolute horse shit. Tried to go to my city's human right's council to see if my situation warranted further attention. I gave my side of the story--including tales of the straight manager who had had enough harassment charges brought against him that he was no longer allowed to meet female staff--which indicated I'd been treated differently and wrongly. My old job made an impassioned argument that the committee violated their First Amendment rights(?) ('Freedom of speech' is the biggie with the First Amendment, for people who cba re:USA). I won the vote!! But one member of the committee was missing. So there weren't enough people for the vote to pass. Dismissed. We took it to the EEOC to make an official federal complaint. Just a week ago, an agent of the US Government patiently explained to us that these laws are literally designed to fuck over the worker and protect the employer unless they are epically stupid, and unfortunately, mine had not been epically stupid. So there's nowhere to go, no recourse to be had. It's over, I guess. Family - 'How to sum it up quickly...' My family hit me with the old soft-disown. No more calls, no more communication. They think they are loving me by not having contact with me. By depriving me of my family, they hope it will make me realize that the path I'm on is destructive, and I'll return to them living an upright life. No. I'm living an upright life, now. And if my family can choose to throw me away, then they are not a family I choose. Then my dad hit me back two months later, absolutely gaslighting me and pretending we never had the disown conversation at all. Reality - 'I don't know who I am anymore' I have trouble knowing what's real, anymore. Every message my dad sends on the surface seems loving and supportive and plaintive. I feel I must be the one in the wrong. I got fired for bullshit reasons. It doesn't feel real. "My family can't possibly have ceased contact with me: that's one of those things I know can never happen!!" But that did happen. So what else that feels real, actually isn't? I do

mean to be so dramatic, and I won't apologize for it. But I truly do feel like my mind has been pretty thoroughly unseated by the last year. Whoever I am, I'm becoming someone different. More distilled, at very least. I've discovered a lot of things about myself: trauma that has likely led to a lot of my mental health problems. Discovered I actually have RAGING ADHD, and it has robber me of a lot of things I wanted to do, and now is sort of consuming me completely. I'm looking for help. Trying to get better. Here's hoping. Every bold point above could be its own book, for all my thoughts about them. But enough of that for now. Love you. Thanks for reading.

#personal #depressed writing #life update #2020 sucked

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witchyintention · 4 years ago

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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕥?

As of late many have found themselves taking steps into the wondrous world of witchcraft. However it is a lot more than just an aesthetic. It is a lifestyle that is both beautiful and dangerous when you don't know what you're doing. Witchy Intention is to help guide you in your craft and teach you through my experiences and research. Along with many other experienced witches through interviews.

When you hear someone say witchcraft you instantly jump to satanic or devil worship but truth be told it's not. Satan is a figure in Christianity and has absolutely nothing to do with witchcraft. So what is witchcraft you ask. Witchcraft is an earth based religion or practice, and has been practiced in almost all the societies and cultures across the world. Though each craft is different according to local beliefs and traditions.

According to scholars of witchcraft, it was a belief system whose origin predates the majority of well known religions. It dates back so far many do not know the exact date, but we have seen it in many cultures such as ancient Egyptians. It also has been evolving since then and its present form is quite different from what it was thousands of years ago. And different areas practiced it differently. Even today from person to person and Coven to Coven it is practice differently. To each their own. It's a unique experience in itself.

In the ancient times, Witchcraft was known as ‘craft of the wise’ as the wise persons were those who followed the path of nature and were in tune with its forces, had the knowledge of herbs and medicines, gave wise counsel and were held in high esteem as Shamanic healers and leaders in the village and community. They understood that nature was superior to human beings and that human beings were simply one of the many parts of nature, both seen and unseen that combine to form one whole. As Chief Seattle said, “We do not own the earth; we are a part of it.” They understood that what we take from nature or use, we must return in kind to maintain the balance and equilibrium. The modern man has, however, forgotten this and has paid the price in the form of many ecological and environmental disasters.

Unfortunately for the past several hundred years the image of the witch has been associated with the evil, heathenism and unrighteousness due to prejudices created by the Christian church. Somewhere along the line Christians accused the Pagan Horned god as the devil because these pagans didn't believe in the same god as them. So what does some Christian of high power do? Calls it devil worship. Despite the fact the bible never tells us what Lucifer looks like upon going to hell.

However, as of late people have started understanding and practicing witchcraft as the true religion of God and Nature. There is renewed interest in witchcraft and witches profess to believe and practice the craft with a sense of pride and confidence. The believers in the New Age movement have understood witchcraft in its true perspective.

Modern witchcraft attracts believers from all walks of life and positions in society all over the world. They come together to understand the life, nature, evolution and mysteries of the universe through witchcraft. Witchcraft is the most democratic religion and practices in the world. There is no rigid dogma and no hard-line regime except for a simple premise that we should not do evil and if we do, know it will come back in multiple. Though not all witches bide by this but many of us do. Secondly, we should not misuse the generosity of nature by disturbing its balance. This is certainly something we all bide by.

There are many forms of witchcraft like I had said earlier it differs from person to person. I will have a separate episode going into the top most popular kinds of witches but for now let's just explain a few things. A lot of other belief systems have set rules of what is good and what is bad, think the ten commandments, or Orthodox Jews are not allowed to use anything mechanical on the Sabbath, or Muslims are only allowed to eat certain parts of the animal. Witchcraft isn't like that. It's more about the big picture and how our actions contribute to that big picture.

I would also like to clarify that being a witch doesn't mean your Wiccan or even pagan. You can very much still be Christian and practice the craft. Remember I said witchcraft was all about the mother earth along with whatever god or gods you worship. This includes the Christian god. I personally know a few Christian witches.

However note that if you are a Christian witch you will be working with only that god. If you plan to work with other gods perhaps you need to rethink your religion's standpoint. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me" is one of the Ten Commandments found in the Hebrew Bible at Exodus 20:2 and Deuteronomy 5:6. With that said the craft is something unique and interesting but be careful because it is real and it can be dangerous.

When new witches find themselves wanting to get into the craft but they really have no idea where to start. Try the history. There is a lot more history than I could even hope to cover in a single session. This is nothing more than an introduction to it. When you are learning about its history you will find many different kinds of practices.

Though it's perfectly fine to be drawn to a practice and wanting to do it. Make sure you first do research on whether the practice is a closed or open practice. Closed practices are closed for a reason and most times you have to have approval to practice it and be sworn in. So if you find yourself wanting to do a closed practice make sure you do the research on how you can do it and do go through the proper procedures.

Some might not let you in at all. For example Voodoo. Voodoo is one of the ones you work with your ancestors, an African folk magic. Those gods (spiritual beings? I really don't know.) are not going to be very accepting of one who is of European descent because your ancestors did their ancestors wrong.

If you are considering the craft, know this, you will spend your whole life learning about the craft. Even the most seasoned of witches are constantly learning. The craft in a sense is like a hypothesis. You will constantly be learning, writing down your findings, doing this and that, to see if it works and figuring things out as you go. But before you even think about getting a head of yourself you need to do lots of research. Don't think 'oh I read a book I can now do a spell'. Witches read a lot. Even if we have already read something on a topic we will keep on. Cross reference everything you read. There is plenty of false information. Especially on the internet, but there are some good sources too.

You need tons of training and maybe even guidance from established witches before you cast your first spell. However we know full well that you learn by doing. So go for it but start with small simple spells. Note that writing a spell or doing a spell does not require a coven, animal bones, and full moon, as fun as nights involving these can be. In fact many witches don't have covens and many do not use animal bones.

Sometimes it’s not about forming the biggest circle under a full moon, but just having a good time with other witches. Or even yourself if you prefer to do Magic solo. It's fine and very much acceptable. But coven or not it's always fun to do with friends. Nothing's like dancing around a bonfire with your best friends.

Practicing can get expensive. I mean you're going to spend a lot of money on books. Though the internet had everything you could possibly need, nothing beats a good book on witchcraft. I mean who doesn't want a bookshelf full of witchcraft research. Then the actual items you'll need will cost you. Even if it's not aesthetically pleasing. People tend to go a cheaper route using things for the dollar store or reusing sauce jars. Which is good but you will still spend a pretty penny because you'll constantly be getting new ones. Jars break, candles melt, herbs are all used up and crystals can and will break. And no your practice might not always be aesthetically pleasing or photo worthy at all time. Truth be told it can be a bit messy, kinda like arts and crafts. Then again witchcraft is both an art and a craft so it makes sense.

Not all witches are female. Whether you are male, nonbinary, trans, genderless, or anything in between, you can be a witch. It's true that there is a beautiful history of women and witchcraft but magick is genderless. Magik does not care about your gender, sexuality, or religious beliefs. Magik is also not good nor evil, it all depends on how the protactioner is using it.

Popular belief also tells that you have to be born into a witch family or your ancestors have to be a witch for you to be one. That's not true. I have said it once and I have said it twice. Anyone can be a witch.

Hexes, they are real. Sorry if this scares you, but hexes, cast to inflict misfortune on others, are indeed real. Some witches but not all believe Magic used with ill intent will come back three times on the caster. Some call this The Rule of Three some call it karma. Either way just know it will come back to you some way or another, even if it's by a return to sender spell.

One of the mean teachings of witchcraft by most forms is what you put into the universe is what you get out of it. If you put positivity into the world you'll get positivity back. The same could be said about negativity. But then someone will say 'Oh I have been putting positivity in the world and nothings happening.' If that's the case the negativity you've been put into the world prior to it is still trying to catch up to you. So keep up the positivity even if it's hard.

You don't have to wear all black. There isn’t a standard dress code for witches, and while it’s absolutely acceptable to wear black from head to toe, there are just as many witches who prefer a sundress and sandals as there are who like black fishnets and velvet.

Black cats are not needed either. Though there is nothing wrong with having a black cat and being a witch. Both have been misunderstood for their supposed evil intentions and connections to dark magic for centries.

Remember real magic isn't some Harry Potter mumbo jumbo either. Though let's face it, we can all still pretend that's what it's like. I do. I know the difference between real magic and what the church and Entertainment make it out to be. But I still enjoy the fiction as much as the real. But we do use wands. Though not all of us do and if anything it's to help control where our magic goes to say.

Black, Grey, White, Evil or Good Magic are terms I personally do not use. Some people use these terms, but they probably shouldn't. To start, they have racist undertones. Rituals that are mistakenly believed to be bad are labeled black magic often come from traditions such as Hoodoo, which is traditional African folk magic, that is also a closed practice. Another thing I have said before is that Magic and Witchcraft alike are not good or bad, it's all on how the protationer uses it. I personally tend to stay away from these labels simply because I do not like the negative feeling given and the story behind them. But that is just me, I would hope many follow in those footsteps but not all are going to. I fully understand that.

✩ Don't Steal Other Peoples Work ✩

Written:

May 24, 2020

By:

Reine Alicis

#real magic #grimoire #sigils #sigil magic #witches of tumblr #real witchcraft #triple moon #prophecy #celtic #greek patroness #witch blog #witchcraft blog #high priestess #witch community #witchcraft 101 #witchcraft info

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stellocchia · 4 years ago

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You know what? I just realised that the Red Egg is just another morally gray character who’s actually justified in it’s action if you look at them from it’s point of view...

(Just a disclaimer: this whole post will be sarcastic and made to point out some inconsistencies I’ve seen in various apologists arguments, I’ll try to make it clear troughout, but still, bear this in mind. It is also a critique of the FANDOM and NOT OF THE CHARACTERS)

Now you’ll ask: how can we justify the actions of a manipulative weird ass Egg/plant thing that feeds on human flesh and is Hell bent on world domination? Well, you’ll see that some arguments can be made in favour of it that are absolutely identical to some of the most popular ones that have been made about other well known characters (such as c!Dream or c!Techno, maybe others... I’ll see as I go).

Discussion under the cut... this will be a long one.

First argument: The Egg was always clear about it’s intentions. The Egg never hid from it’s followers (or allies if you may, after all power imbalance is rarely taken into account when analyzing relationships in this fandom...) that it’s objective was to expand, eat and unify the server under it’s guidance. This in and of itself, of course, already justifies somewhat the Eggs actions (after all, this argument is what “justified” Techno’s actions on november 16th and forward, why shouldn’t we apply it to other characters?). Honesty after all is always a good justifications for someone’s wrongdoings, no matter their impact on others.

Second argument: The Egg’s true objective is unity, which is ultimately good. How do we know that’s the Eggs true objective? Well, it’s the one that BBH, main interpreter of the Egg, insists most about. The Egg followers want to create unity under the Egg, easy as that. And unity being necessarily a good thing (as told to us by Ranboo with his “no sides” ideals and Dream with his “one big happy famaily” statement) means that the Egg at least got good intentions. Also wanting to unite people under your rule or system of belief is in no way tyrannical or wrong, and violence is always justified if your objective is ultimately positive (this is why, after all, neither Dream nor Techno or Phil were in the wrong when imposing their ideologies on others trough means of extreme violence and this is why Dream’s actions can not be defined as tyrannical while his ultimate objective was ultimate control)

You may wonder though, before we get to the next point, how can we just entirely trust the Eggs words with absolutly no critical analysis of it’s actions and without consulting any pov external from that of it’s followers? Well, that’s simply because we have absolutely no reason to believe the Egg is in any way an unreliable narrator, therefore we can take anything it says, either out loud or to it’s followers, as the absolute truth. Also we can assume without watching any external pov that anyone opposing the Egg is inherently biased, therefore it’s entirely useless to try and understand their point of view. (We have other examples of character like this in the story already, such as: Technoblade, Phil and Dream. Any statement they make can be taken as absolute fact regarding their motivation, actions or ideologies and any statement opposing what they say is to be discarded as biased or worthless)

Third argument: The Egg has given a lot to it’s followers, therefore is deserving of their absolute loyalty and it’s absolutely justified in harming them in retaliation if they shift sides (aka if they betray it). Now, I know what you’re thinking: “This sounds very manipulative and not okay, you can’t simply buy someone’s loyalty or friendship! They shouldn’t owe you if you give them something freely!”... well... you’re wrong. The Egg has given them so much! It gave them the power to achieve any of their desires and offers to do so for anyone who’d follow it. It even helped BBH when his best friend Skeppy got infected by healing him and giving BBH a cause to believe in and a group to belong to. It did so for Ant and Punz too, as well as trying to do so for many others. It just asked for their love in exchange! Can’t believe some people like Puffy would just stop loving it once she recognized that that relationship had changed her into someone she didn’t want to be! The Egg is fully justified in wanting her dead after her betrayal... (much like Techno and Phil were absolutely justified in Doomsday and in working with Dream as Tommy had betrayed them with no valid motivation whatsoever. If they’d killed him as he was on his last life they’d also be justified)

Some may wonder why is the Egg also justified in wanting to kill Tommy or in hurting Sam since they never technically betrayed it? Well, Tommy is annoying (God this actually hurts to write, it’s so damn stupid) and also a liability. For the Greater Good some sacrifices must be made and it’s fine for things to get destroyed or people to die as long as it is for a just cause. Also Sam getting hurt was just an unfortunate but necessary thing for him to learn his lesson not to oppose the Egg and be a hinderance for it. (Again: the abolishment of governaments was the ultimate and undoubtedly good objective of both Doomsday and the November 16th war which makes any and all casualties and propriety damage in both of this events excusable. Also it has been proven already that the only True and Right way to teach a “lesson” is trough violence by characters such as: Dream, Phil, Techno, Niki and Jack and confirmed by: Ranboo and Hbomb, we can therefore assume that this is true and also justified. If a character is considered an annoyance the justification points for using violence to teach them a lesson is doubled!)

Fourth argument: The Egg has often been used or talked about as a tool to get power, this is dehumanizing and it grants it free range to utterly detroy anyone who it percieves to have done so. While the precedent for this point is very muddled and hard to prove and The Egg has only gone after one of the people (Tommy) who wanted to use it for profit, it’s still worth pointing out and can be used as an excuse later on. Do we have no proofs of this happening? Do people start actually considering it a living breathing evil creature as soon as it shows to not be an inanimate plant and actually start immediately treating it as such? Has this never been pointed out by the Egg or it’s followers and has the Egg never expressed feeling uncomfortable with people’s views of it as well as ingoraging some of them itself? None of this matters! As long as The Egg starts expressing a belief that this happened way after with nothing to back it up it will still be to be taken at face value and it will be a valid reason to demonize any and all people who oppose it! (While an argument can actually be made for the Egg being dehumanized as it in no way, shape or form presents any similarities to an actual human, not from a moral, psychological or physical point of view, there are actually 0 proofs of this happening with our precedent for this point which is Techno, aside from his say so, this point is, however, just as valid for him. It doesn’t matter if something never happened as long as Techno perceives it as if it did).

The trauma that the dehumanization and betrayals may have caused could also be used as a further justification for all of the Eggs actions, though only if it is shown in the most mainstream and romanticized version of it and none of the ugly/debilitating aspects of ptsd are ever presented in any way (*cough* Ranboo, Techno and Phil to varying degrees *cough*), we don’t want such a sympathetic character lashing out, not being Sad all the time, shutting people off, being rude, being brash or talk too loudly, it would just ruin it all for everybody. Also the trauma should possibly not affect it in any significant ways and never actually be brought up if not in eloquent monologues to other characters for maximum effect (*cough* Techno again *cough*)

So, let’s recap: The Egg may be considered morally gray (no more or less then other characters though as only one shade of gray exists) as it did some things that may be perceived as excessive (mostly harming Sam as he is a conventionally likeable character who also has no amnesia or other mental health issues and, therefore, is the only type of character who’s feelings should be taken into account), but it’s mostly justified in it’s doings.

If none of this arguments seem to make sense and you think they don’t excuse the Egg’s actions (aka a demonic being with no sense of human morals) they should also be considered utterly worthless for any other character (all of them way more worthy of being held accountable for thir own actions) as well...

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years ago

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so I wrote most of this...four days ago, and then somehow didn’t get around to finishing it until just now, which feels super weird because after writing this I started getting worried about future episodes again for a variety of reasons, and of course now we’re at T minus 10 minutes? (honestly if I’m somehow late for my own funeral I’m pretty sure no one will be surprised.) but I still wanted to post this to go over some of what I liked so much about episode 4, even if...I am no longer anywhere near as confident as I was a few days ago about where the show might be going. whatever.

***

I’ve done almost nothing for the past day or so except chew over episode 4 some more, partly trying to figure out why I liked it so much when it was broadly very divisive, and I realized that a lot of what I’ve been feeling from this episode is relief.

the thing is I’ve been paranoid since at least Infinity War about Marvel doing setup that looks like it’ll lead to a big payoff and then nothing (Loki’s death, but also Gamora’s and maybe Vision’s, and the general fact that the “fix” to IW was convoluted, took place much later, and caused as many problems as it solved, and just, Endgame in general), so I don’t really trust Marvel that way anymore. plus Marvel has pretty badly fumbled a lot of different things in the past, especially on various social issues, by introducing unfortunate implications that apparently didn’t occur to them even though they’re obvious to literally everyone else...stuff like Thanos’s “sacrifice” of Gamora, or how the Flag-Smashers were portrayed and Karli was a villain for no real reason, or how it would’ve been so easy to add a couple lines in WandaVision that would fix the whole thing where the Maximoffs weren’t just whitewashed but they also voluntarily worked with Nazis and they whiffed that too.

so, while I’ve been enjoying the show, a lot of that enjoyment has been based on meta I’ve seen and me sort of going “this interpretation is really cool and it makes a lot of sense, but at this point I can’t know if it’s something the showrunners are doing on purpose or if they sorta accidentally implied depth where there wasn’t any and it’s not actually leading anywhere” with things like the TVA being very clearly authoritarian but also supposedly the good guys, Loki being constantly described as an awful person, Loki sometimes being manic or incompetent, etc. etc. etc., along with the similar interpretation of “sure, we fans know all this stuff about how Loki is not an awful person actually, thanks, and the people who arrested him aren’t automatically Good Guys just because they’re in opposition to him but casual viewers--including not-casual-but-not-fannish viewers who should really know better--have not figured any of this out and so the show needs to go out of its way to demonstrate things that are obvious to us” but I wasn’t sure. the second half of episode 1 made me feel pretty good about where the show was headed as far as Loki’s characterization and emotions were concerned, but the more lighthearted aspects of 2 and 3 had me wondering again.

so then what happens in this episode?

the TVA goes fully mask off. the Time-Keepers are in fact fake, the Sacred Timeline by extension is also basically fake, the people who work there are all variants, the ones we know (C-20, B-15, Mobius) show grief and anger over the lives that were stolen from them, Sylvie is arrested as a child who did absolutely nothing wrong (and then put through the same process Loki was in episode 1, which is cool because a lot of it was kinda played for laughs then but showing the same things happening to an innocent child also serves to reframe what happened to Loki as, hmm, not that funny after all maybe!), Renslayer is willing to prune innocent people--friends and coworkers, even--just because they learned too much, all the sinister propaganda WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SINISTER

Loki gets very serious very fast in this episode. he displays a lot of genuine emotion and trauma but he mostly does it in a calculated way that shows just how fast his brain works and how he’s always, always thinking about what other people want/expect from him. (like--even the complaint about too few guards seems to fall into that category, given that he only says it after Mobius insists he must be wanting to make some kind of quip!) his self-image is garbage but through Sylvie he’s starting to maybe work on that. he goes up against multiple armed enemies while completely unarmed and holds his own until he gets a weapon. he pushes back when it matters and doesn’t just accept everything Mobius throws at him. he lies, pretty competently (the fact that Mobius doesn’t believe him is...really not his fault, considering Mobius wouldn’t believe him at first about the truth either, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t planning to believe anything Loki outright told him), when it actually matters, primarily in what sure seems like an attempt to protect someone he cares about.

and Mobius. says that Loki WAS RIGHT. ABOUT THE TVA. FROM THE BEGINNING!!! I would still love to hear him say explicitly, look, I said a lot of shitty things to you and tossed in some actual physical torture at the end there oops but the vast majority of it was stuff I didn’t really mean and was only saying to get a reaction and/or information and of course it turns out I was wrong about all the TVA stuff, so I want to say for the record that I was wrong about you personally in many different ways and I’m sorry. (which, honestly, would probably be very awkward for both of them because I doubt Loki has much experience receiving genuine apologies.) but I’m mostly okay with it if he doesn’t, because I feel like you were right from the beginning, and by the way you can be whatever you want does a decent job of implying most of that. (...enough for casual viewers to pick up on it? well, I’m not hoping for miracles but sure, probably some of them.)

in other words? all that stuff the casual viewers were missing (not helped by misleading statements from the showrunners), about the TVA so clearly being bad guys, and Loki being a pretty decent person who presents different versions of himself in different situations and also has some shitty coping mechanisms, and the other Loki variant also not being evil just because they were trying to take down the TVA? we were right. that is, in fact, how the showrunners intended all those things to be taken. they didn’t want to come right out with that stuff at first because they wanted to tell a story and have some twists, and the fact that these things were twists for casual viewers is exactly why it was frustrating to a lot of fans, because it felt like obvious things were being misrepresented or overlooked. I still think that’s reasonable, because see above on why Marvel doesn’t necessarily deserve that trust, but at this point I’m a lot more comfortable believing that this specific show more or less knows what it’s doing.

I mean, yeah, there were some cool fan theories that went nowhere, like the whole thing with the broken TemPad, and I agree that was dumb and it’s very annoying that it really was just sloppy writing, but I guess specific things like that just...don’t bother me as much as more systemic, overarching elements like the characterization of Loki and the TVA. and yes, of course I’ll always be annoyed that we’re apparently never going to get explicit confirmation that Loki’s alliance with Thanos was coerced at best. but, you know, what we got isn’t nothing.

#loki #loki show #loki spoilers #mobius m. mobius #sylvie #marvel cinematic universe #meta #loki meta #my meta #I should add links but uh...maybe later

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thedykeprincess · 4 years ago

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So you were disappointed in Throne of Glass...

(DISCLAIMER: This post does not intend to offend anyone who loves ToG. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and likes and dislikes and is allowed to express that. This post is meant to share books that have similar qualities to ToG for people who were disappointed in the series, like myself, but anyone who does like ToG can absolutely find great recs here! However, if you don’t want to hear anything ToG critical I recommend skipping over this post. Thank you!)

So last week I finally got rid of all my ToG books. I was mostly relieved that I now have more room on my bookshelf but I also felt a little sad. It was a series I really enjoyed when I first read it two years ago, and on some level it will always have a special place for me. It was one of the many books that got me back into reading after a five year slump, it’s the reason I became friends with the wonderful Nicole (@/rainbowbooktheif on Instagram) who was the first person irl to make me feel less alone as a bookish nerd, and it, unintentionally, helped me hone my critical reading skills. However, I slowly began to care less and less for the story and characters as the series progressed and ended up not reading the last two books because I just stopped caring. I wondered why a series that I loved so much in the beginning went down hill so fast for me, but in the process of falling out of love with ToG I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt this way about the series! The lack of diversity (and misrepresentation/mistreatment of diverse characters when they were there), sexism, lazy editing and lackluster world building, among other things, came up many times for me and other former ToG fans when discussing why we became disappointed in the series. But the pitch for the book (badass morally gray assassin taking down a tyrant king for her freedom, so cool!) and some of the elements (romance, female friendships, magic, trials) sounded so amazing even though in the end it was executed poorly. So, I decided to compile a list of books that I have read and loved that have some elements and themes of ToG. This list is by no means exhaustive and is limited by the books that I have read (which is not many when you look at how many books exist in the world) so I would love to see your recommendations! Please feel free to add onto this post any recs that you have! Now onto the list!

1) Graceling by Kristin Cashore

I read this book the summer before I started ToG and completely loved it. It was one of the early books that got me back into reading and it was honestly the perfect book for that. It was exciting and I couldn’t put it down. It follows an assassin for a tyrannical king who begins to realize her own gifts for killing are more then she ever thought they could be. Cashore does a fantastic job developing the lead character Katsa and the ways that she dolls out information to the readers slowly is impeccable. While this book is technically the first in a trilogy of books taking place in the Graceling world, it can be read as a standalone fantasy (which I feel like are very rare). Another part of this book that I really loved was the romance. I usually don’t read very many straight romances (due to the sexist/problematic aspects many of the ones that I’ve read have) but the relationship between Katsa and Po is honestly a breath of fresh air when you’re used to a lot of toxicity and sexism with cishet romances in books. The two take care of each other and their relationship is very balanced. There are no gender roles pushed on either of them and they truly grow to become a team throughout the story and it’s wonderful to see! I would consider Katsa and Po, while canonically cis (there isn’t any explicit queer rep in this book), both quite androgynous characters who often express themselves in a fluid manner which I really appreciate. Over all this is an amazing classic YA fantasy that everyone should check out!

Synopsis: “Katsa has been able to kill a man with her bare hands since she was eight—she’s a Graceling, one of the rare people in her land born with an extreme skill. As niece of the king, she should be able to live a life of privilege, but Graced as she is with killing, she is forced to work as the king’s thug.

She never expects to fall in love with beautiful Prince Po.

She never expects to learn the truth behind her Grace—or the terrible secret that lies hidden far away . . . a secret that could destroy all seven kingdoms with words alone.

With elegant, evocative prose and a cast of unforgettable characters, debut author Kristin Cashore creates a mesmerizing world, a death-defying adventure, and a heart-racing romance that will consume you, hold you captive, and leave you wanting more.”

2) Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake

This book is the first in a five book series about three royal sisters raised to battle it out for the throne. I must admit the first book in the series is a little lackluster due to the fact that it’s setting up a lot but the second book just blows everything out of the water in a fantastic way. This series is dark and bloody and intriguing. I got completely hooked on this series and it brought out a lot of emotion to the point where I was gasping and shouting and throwing my book around as I was reading it (I got very invested)! I think that’s one of the things SJM can do well is get you hooked on her characters and Kendare can do the same (if not better). I love the dynamic between the sisters, this book does a great job at exploring the darker side of familial and female/female relationships (mostly platonic.. there isn’t very much queer rep unfortunately) that I really appreciate. The magic system and wolrdbuliding are also something that I enjoyed and I though was quite well done. Kendare does a good job at weaving in worldbuilding and magic system seamlessly into the story and I love that so much. Three Dark Crowns is just a fun and exciting series that I think anyone who loves fantasy YA should check out!

Synopsis: “ In every generation on the island of Fennbirn, a set of triplets is born—three queens, all equal heirs to the crown and each possessor of a coveted magic. Mirabella is a fierce elemental, able to spark hungry flames or vicious storms at the snap of her fingers. Katharine is a poisoner, one who can ingest the deadliest poisons without so much as a stomachache. Arsinoe, a naturalist, is said to have the ability to bloom the reddest rose and control the fiercest of lions.

But becoming the Queen Crowned isn’t solely a matter of royal birth. Each sister has to fight for it. And it’s not just a game of win or lose…it’s life or death. The night the sisters turn sixteen, the battle begins.

The last queen standing gets the crown. “

3) The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

So a little disclaimer, this book is one of my favorite fantasy books of all time. I read it over the span of a few months last summer (its a long one guys...800+ pages) and it was one of the greatest, most well thought out fantasy books I’d ever had the pleasure of reading. I loved the characters, the world, the plot, the magic system etc. I loved everything! There’s some great political intrigue, dragon riders, epic battles, prophecies, weddings, funerals, romance and just general badassery and kickassery happening. Shannon clearly put so much time and effort into this book and it shows. That kind of dedication that shows is something that I really appreciate in a book, especially a fantasy book. Another aspect that I loved so so much is the diversity in this book. It came so naturally and didn’t at all feel like tokenism. The characters, with their differing genders, ethnicities, sexualities, ages, and nationalities etc, and their relationships with each other are truly what made the story. This book also has one of the BEST f/f romances I’ve ever read (as a queer woman I really loved that representation so much and felt very connected to both of those characters). Priory is a long one but if you have the time I highly recommend it.

Synopsis: “ A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens.

The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door.

Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic.

Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

Meanwhile, the divided East and West refuse to parley, and forces of chaos are rising from their sleep. “

4) Truthwitch by Susan Dennard

As a queer woman, I’m always a little on edge when someone mentions f/f friendship in a book. This is entirely because of the erasure many many f/f romances experience when they are just brushed off as friendships (we’ve all heard the term “gal pals”). It’s frustrating and even though I love a good f/f friendship when the f/f romances get erased and replaced by friendships it gets exhausting. However, Truthwitch is a true f/f friendship that I can fully get behind! Dennard is an author that I had been following for writing tips for a while before I finally picked up her book. I knew that she’s someone who is invested in making her series diverse, even if she herself doesn’t fit into those categories, and accepts criticism because she want’s to do her characters justice. That’s something I really appreciate seeing from white cishet authors and is one of the reasons I picked up Truthwitch. It’s so much fun and the heart of the story truly is the relationship between the two leads Safi and Iseult. Their friendship reminds me a lot of my relationship with my friends. Books about f/f relationships (romantic or otherwise) are few and far between so I really love that this book exists. Strong platonic relationships are so often pushed aside for cishet romantic ones so it’s SO refreshing to see a series where the book would not exist without Safi and Iseult’s bond. They are truly soulmates and their relationship with each other is the most important one in their lives and that is just beautiful. Not to mention this book has got an awesome magic system and is building up to an amazing fantasy series! There’s pirates, priestesses, princes and, of course, witches! It’s loads of fun all around!

Synopsis: “ Young witches Safiya and Iseult have a habit of finding trouble. After clashing with a powerful Guildmaster and his ruthless Bloodwitch bodyguard, the friends are forced to flee their home.

Safi must avoid capture at all costs as she's a rare Truthwitch, able to discern truth from lies. Many would kill for her magic, so Safi must keep it hidden - lest she be used in the struggle between empires. And Iseult's true powers are hidden even from herself.

In a chance encounter at Court, Safi meets Prince Merik and makes him a reluctant ally. However, his help may not slow down the Bloodwitch now hot on the girls' heels. All Safi and Iseult want is their freedom, but danger lies ahead. With war coming, treaties breaking and a magical contagion sweeping the land, the friends will have to fight emperors and mercenaries alike. For some will stop at nothing to get their hands on a Truthwitch. “

5) Monstress by Marjorie Liu (Writer) and Sana Takeda (Illustrator)

Another disclaimer! This book is my favorite graphic novel, period. There is really nothing like Monstress out there and I think that it’s criminally underrated. Liu and Takeda are the perfect combo of writer/artist to make this GN come together. I’m constantly in awe of the world, characters, and story Liu built and the frankly stunning art Takeda creates to go along with it. It’s steampunk and dark and dirty and beautiful. The lead character, Maika, is one of the few truly morally gray characters that I’ve read. Her decisions will make you question if you’re a good person because you still love her despite the fact that she just killed that guy... and that guy... and those other guys. This graphic novel series is very reflective of the dark animes (like Tokyo Ghoul and Castlevania) that we are seeing more recently and I personally believe Monstress would make a fantastic animated series if it were ever to get an adaption. This book has also some great representation of queer women (Maika herself is a queer, disabled, WoC). It’s totally the norm for the world and all of the lead female characters are queer, which I just love. This story has amazing woldbulding, magic, characters etc. It’ll give you everything from giant dead gods, to talking cats with multiple tails, to demonically possessed teenage girls who need to eat people. It’s honestly amazing. (I would give a major trigger warning for blood/gore so as long as you know you can handle that I think you should check it out!)

Synopsis: “ Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900's Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, MONSTRESS tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers. “

6) The Bridge Kingdom by Danielle L. Jensen

I never thought I would love a cishet romance as much as I love this one but here I am. The Bridge Kingdom is not really the kind of book I would normally pick up but it was on sale on kindle so I thought “why not!” And I was not disappointed. This story follows the assassin princess, Lara, who was raised to be married off to her fathers rival kingdom and kill the king. However, things get sticky when she begins to actually fall for the king and starts to realize that her father isn’t exactly who he says he is. Not only was this romance steamy as hell (this is an ADULT book folks so there are some explicit sex scenes, beware) but the world is super cool. The political intrigue was something I really enjoyed and I loved to see the world unfold from Lara’s eyes. I also totally loved Lara’s character. She’s complicated and cutthroat but ultimately want’s to do what’s right and is a character made to change and develop. I usually don’t go for that character trope that Lara fits into (beautiful and badass and despite being the MCs they somehow end up being very bland...) but Jensen managed to create a very mature and ever changing version of the YA trope that I ended up loving completely. If you love steamy fantasy romances with cool worlds and intriguing characters this is absolutely the book for you!

Synopsis: “ Lara has only one thought for her husband on their wedding day: I will bring your kingdom to its knees. A princess trained from childhood to be a lethal spy, Lara knows that the Bridge Kingdom represents both legendary evil - and legendary promise. The only route through a storm-ravaged world, the Bridge Kingdom controls all trade and travel between lands, allowing its ruler to enrich himself and deprive his enemies, including Lara's homeland. So when she is sent as a bride under the guise of fulfilling a treaty of peace, Lara is prepared to do whatever it takes to fracture the defenses of the impenetrable Bridge Kingdom.

But as she infiltrates her new home - a lush paradise surrounded by tempest seas - and comes to know her new husband, Aren, Lara begins to question where the true evil resides. Around her, she sees a kingdom fighting for survival, and in Aren, a man fiercely protective of his people. As her mission drives her to deeper understanding of the fight to possess the bridge, Lara finds the simmering attraction between her and Aren impossible to ignore. Her goal nearly within reach, Lara will have to decide her own fate: Will she be the destroyer of a king or the savior of her people? “

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tinyshe · 3 years ago

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Story at-a-glance

In the spring of 2021, the Biden Administration said it was seriously looking into establishing a vaccine passport system that will allow unvaccinated individuals to be legally treated as second-class citizens

In Israel, vaccine certificates are already required for entry into many public spaces. Activists warn it’s become a two-tiered society where the unvaccinated are ostracized

The public narrative is not only building prejudice against people who refuse to wear masks or get an experimental vaccine, but is also using healthy people as scapegoats from the very beginning, blaming the spread of the virus on asymptomatically infected people

With the rollout of vaccine certificates, we are stepping firmly into discrimination territory. The last step will entail persecution of non-vaccinated individuals. At that point, we will have replicated the Nazi regime’s four-step process of dehumanizing the Jews, which ultimately allowed the genocide to occur

Vaccine passports are about creating justification for segregation, discrimination and elimination of certain groups of people, in this case, people who don’t want to be part of the experimental vaccine program, which identifies them as noncompliant with top-down edicts

This article was previously published on April 6, 2021 and has been updated with new information.

As predicted in 2020, vaccine passports are being rolled out across the world, including the U.S. As reported by Ron Paul in his Liberty Report,1,2 which streamed live March 29, 2021, the Biden Administration said it was "seriously looking into establishing some kind of federal vaccine passport system, where Americans who cannot (or will not) prove to the government they have been jabbed with the experimental vaccine will be legally treated as second-class citizens."

While Biden has yet to formally announce such a program, Paul warns that if it happens, this system "will quickly morph into a copy of China's 'social credit' system, where undesirable behaviors are severely punished." I've been saying the same thing for many months now, and there's every reason to suspect that this is indeed where we're headed.

Indeed, listen to Ilana Rachel Daniel's emotional plea from Jerusalem, Israel, where a "Green Pass" is now required if you want to enter any number of public venues and participate in society. Daniel, who emigrated from the U.S. to Israel 25 years ago, is a health adviser, activist and information officer for a new political human rights party called Rappeh.

The COVID-19 data simply don't support the rollout of this kind of draconian measure. In the absence of a serious, truly massively lethal threat to a major portion of U.S. citizens, having to show vaccine papers in order to travel and enter certain social venues is clearly more about imposing top-down government control than safeguarding public health.

We're Looking at the End of Human Liberty in the West

Mandatory vaccine passports will be massively discriminating, and are quite frankly senseless, considering the so-called COVID-19 "vaccines" don't work like vaccines.

They're designed to lessen symptoms when the inoculated person gets infected, but they do not actually prevent them from getting infected in the first place, and they don't prevent the spread of the virus — which is being proven by the number of fully vaccinated people who not only are coming down with the Delta variant of COVID, but are being told they can spread it to others.

With statistics like this, vaccine passports are nothing but loyalty cards, proving you've submitted to being a lab rat for an experimental injection and nothing more, because in reality, vaccinated individuals are no safer than unvaccinated ones. It's a truly mindboggling ruse, and unless enough people are able to see it for what it is, the world will rather literally be turned into a prison planet.

In Israel … we're hearing from activists that it's a two-tiered society and that basically, activists are ostracized and surveilled continually. It is the end of civil society, and they are trying to roll it out around the world. ~ Naomi Wolf

As noted by former Clinton adviser and author Naomi Wolf, mandatory COVID-19 passports would spell the "end of human liberty in the West." In a March 28, 2021, interview with Fox News' Steve Hilton, she said:3,4

"'Vaccine passport' sounds like a fine thing if you don't understand what those platforms can do. I'm [the] CEO of a tech company, I understand what these platforms can do. It is not about the vaccine, it's not about the virus, it's about your data.

Once this rolls out, you don't have a choice about being part of the system. What people have to understand is that any other functionality can be loaded onto that platform with no problem at all. It can be merged with your Paypal account, with your digital currency. Microsoft is already talking about merging it with payment plans.

Your network can be sucked up. It geolocates you everywhere you go. You credit history can be included. All of your medical and health history can be included.

This has already happened in Israel, and six months later, we're hearing from activists that it's a two-tiered society and that basically, activists are ostracized and surveilled continually. It is the end of civil society, and they are trying to roll it out around the world.

It is absolutely so much more than a vaccine pass … I cannot stress enough that it has the power to turn off your life, or to turn on your life, to let you engage in society or be marginalized."

Largest Medical Experiment in the History of the World

As noted by Donald Rucker, who led the Trump Administration's health IT office, the individual tracking that goes along with a vaccine passport will also help officials to evaluate the effectiveness and long-term safety of the vaccines. He told The Washington Post:5

"The tracking of vaccinations is not just simply for vaccine passports. The tracking of vaccinations is a broader issue of 'we're giving a novel biologic agent to the entire country,' more or less."

In other words, health officials know full well that this mass vaccination campaign is a roll of the dice. It's the largest medical experiment in the history of the world, and vaccine certificates will allow them to track all of the millions of test subjects. This alone should be cause enough to end all discussions about vaccine mandates, yet the experimental nature of these injections is being completely ignored.

Again, by shaming people who have concerns about participating in a medical experiment and threatening to bar them from society, government officials are proving that this is not for the greater good. It's not about public health. It's about creating loyal subjects — people who are literally willing to sacrifice their lives and the lives of their children at the request of the government, no questions asked.

Vaccinations Are the New 'Purity Test'

Wolf also points out the horrific history of IBM, which developed a similar but less sophisticated system of punch cards that allowed Nazi Germany to create a two-tier society and ultimately facilitated the rounding up of Jews for extermination.

Suffice it to say, some of the most gruesome parts of history are now repeating right before our eyes, and we must not turn away from this ugly truth. Doing so may turn out to be far more lethal than COVID-19 ever was.

The short video above features a 93-year-old Holocaust survivor who compares mask wearing to, as a Jew, having to wear a yellow star to mark their societal status. However, back then, everyone understood what was happening, she says.

At no point were they lied to and told that wearing the star was for their own good, which is what's happening now. So, in that respect, the current situation is far more insidious. She says the "hypocrisy in the public narrative," which claims that we need to wear masks to protect the old, "is absolutely unbearable." "I would love to die in a state [of] freedom," she says, "than live like this."

She adds that at her age, her life expectancy is short, and she would gladly exchange her death for the life and happiness of the next generations. She wants the younger generations to have the freedom "to live their lives, as I have lived mine ... To see people defile their children with masks is something totally unbearable to me," she says. Vaccine credentials, in my view, are even more comparable to the Jewish yellow star, but in reverse.

Not having the certificate will be the yellow star of our day, which will allow business owners, government officials and just about anyone else to treat you like a second-class citizen and deny you access to everything from education, work and travel, to recreation, social engagements and daily commerce — all under the false guise of you being a biological threat to all those who have been vaccinated.

According to the public narrative, vaccine certificates are a key aspect of getting life back to normal, but the reality is the complete converse, as they will usher in a markedly different society that is anything but normal.

Florida Bucks the Trend

As a resident of Florida, I must applaud Gov. Ron DeSantis who announced March 29, 2021,6 that he would issue an executive order forbidding local governments and businesses from requiring vaccine certificates.

He followed up with that order April 2, 2021, saying he was calling on the state legislature to create a measure that will allow him to sign it into law. Unfortunately, U.S. District Judge Kathleen M. Williams issued an injunction August 8, 2021, against enforcing the order; whether DeSantis chooses to fight to keep it is yet to be seen.

"It's completely unacceptable for either the government or the private sector to impose upon you the requirement that you show proof of vaccine to just simply participate in normal society," he said at the time he announced the order.

But, no matter what comes of DeSantis' order, other states and countries that do decide on such a requirement are also bound to face the problem of black market vaccination certificates, which have already started emerging.7,8

As reported by the Daily Beast,9,10 a number of health care workers have been caught bragging about forging vaccination cards on their social media channels. Apparently, they have not yet realized the public nature of the internet, but that's beside the point.

In Florida, a man working at a web design company was fired after posting a TikTok video advertising fake vaccine cards,11 and in Israel, where the two-tier society is already forming, a man was arrested for making and selling forged COVID-19 vaccination certificates, which are now required for entry into restaurants, bars, clubs, hotels, swimming pools and other public venues throughout the country.12

Around the world, people are also being arrested for administering fake vaccines13,14,15,16,17 and selling bogus COVID-19 tests.18,19

Eugenics and Hygiene Obsessions

While it's often considered bad policy to compare anything to the Nazi regime, the comparisons are growing more readily identifiable by the day, which makes them hard to avoid.

Aside from the parallels that can be drawn between mask wearing and/or vaccine "papers" and the Jewish yellow star, there's the Nazi's four-step process for dehumanizing the Jews,20 — prejudice, scapegoating, discrimination and persecution — a process that indoctrinated the German people into agreeing with, or at least going along with the plan to commit genocide.

In present day, the public narrative is not only building prejudice against people who refuse to wear masks or get an experimental vaccine, but is also using healthy people as scapegoats from the very beginning, blaming the spread of the virus on asymptomatically infected people.

With the rollout of vaccine certificates, we are stepping firmly into discrimination territory. The last step will entail persecution of non-vaccinated individuals. This in and of itself also harkens back to the Nazi regime, which was obsessed with "health guidelines" that eventually led to the mass-purging of "unclean" Jews. As reported by Gina Florio in a December 2020 Evie Magazine article:21

"When Hitler first came to power in Nazi Germany, he kicked off a series of public health schemes. He started by setting up health screenings all over the country, sending vans around to every neighborhood to conduct tuberculosis testing, etc.

Next up was factory cleanliness — he launched a robust campaign encouraging factories to completely revamp their space, thoroughly clean every corner … After the factories, the next mission was cleaning up the asylums …

What started as seemingly innocent or well-meaning public health campaigns quickly spiraled into an extermination of races and groups of people who were considered dirty or disgusting. In short, the beginning of Hitler's reign was a constant expansion of who was contaminated and who was impure …

We're seeing an obsession with covering our faces all the time so we don't spread disease or deadly germs; most public places we walk into won't even allow us to enter without slathering our hands in hand sanitizer; and people act terrified of someone who isn't wearing a mask.

Nobody can say with a straight face that this is normal behavior … We're even seeing people advocate for some kind of tracking device to show that a person is vaccinated or 'clean' enough to enter a venue … Let's hope we can all learn the lessons from the past and we don't witness history repeat itself."

History Is Repeating Itself

Indeed, everyone calling for vaccine certificates — which became part of the public narrative early on in the pandemic — is guilty of following in the well-worn footsteps of this infamous dictator, repeating the very same patterns that were universally condemned after the fall of the Third Reich.

Highlighting them all would be too great a task for one article, so two glaring examples will have to suffice. In December 2020, Andrew Yang, an entrepreneurial attorney with political ambitions, tweeted the following:22

"Is there a way for someone to easily show that they have been vaccinated — like a bar code they can download to their phone? There ought to be … Tough to have mass gatherings like concerts or ballgames without either mass adoption of the vaccine or a means of signaling."

Signaling what, if not your "unclean" biohazard state? In his March 2021 Tweet, law professor, political commentator and former U.S. attorney for the Western District of Pennsylvania, Harry Litman, was more direct about the ill intent behind vaccine certificates, saying:23

"Vaccine passports are a good idea. Among other things, it will single out the still large contingent of people who refuse vaccines, who will be foreclosed from doing a lot of things their peers can do. That should help break the resistance down."

Comments like these demonstrate that vaccine passports are about creating justification for segregation, discrimination and elimination of certain groups of people, in this case, people who don't want to be part of the experimental vaccine program.

The justification is that they're too "unclean," too "unsafe" to freely participate in public society and must therefore be identified and shut out. In reality, it's really about identifying the noncompliant.

During the Nazi reign, those slated for segregation, discrimination and elimination were identified by their affiliation with Judaism (there's controversy as to whether Jewishness is an issue of race, ethnicity, religion, national identity or familial bonds, which you can learn more about on JewInTheCity.com,24 but all were relevant criteria in the Nazi's hunt for Jews).

Today, the global elimination strategy foregoes such identities, and focuses instead on identifying who will go along with the program and who will be a noncompliant troublemaker.

In short, vaccine passports are a device to identify who the loyal subjects of the unelected elite are, and who aren't. Those unwilling to enter the new world of technocratic rule without a fuss are the ones that need to be eliminated, and willingness to be a test subject for an unproven experimental treatment is the litmus test. It's really not more complicated than that.

Are You Ready To Be an Outcast?

This is essentially the conclusion drawn by Mike Whitney as well, detailed in an article25 posted on The Unz Review. I would encourage you to read the entire article as it succinctly summarizes the reasons behind the current censorship.

In his article, he points out that behavioral psychologists have been employed by the government to promote the COVID-19 vaccination campaign and maximize vaccine uptake. They also have a "rapid response team" in place to attack the opinions of those who question the "official narrative."

Mike also highlights a National Institutes of Health report26 titled, "COVID-19 Vaccination Communication: Applying Behavioral and Social Science to Address Vaccine Hesitancy and Foster Vaccine Confidence," which lays out the intent to turn vaccine refusers into social outcasts as a tool to coerce compliance.

"This is very scary stuff," Whitney writes.27 "Agents of the state now identify critics of the COVID vaccine as their mortal enemies. How did we get here? And how did we get to the point where the government is targeting people who don't agree with them? This is way beyond Orwell. We have entered some creepy alternate universe …

If behavioral psychologists helped to shape the government's strategy on mass vaccination, then in what other policies were they involved? Were these the 'professionals' who conjured up the pandemic restrictions?

Were the masks, the social distancing and the lockdowns all promoted by 'experts' as a way to undermine normal human relations and inflict the maximum psychological pain on the American people?

Was the intention to create a weak and submissive population that would willingly accept the dismantling of democratic institutions, the dramatic restructuring of the economy, and the imposition of a new political order? These questions need to be answered …

Vaccination looks to be the defining issue of the next few years at least. And those who resist the edicts of the state will increasingly find themselves on the outside; outcasts in their own country."

Will You Obey?

As detailed in an internet blog titled, "Will You Obey the Criminal Authoritarians?" the 1962 Milgram Experiment (embedded above for your convenience), tested the limits of human obedience to authority, proving most people will simply follow orders, even when those orders go against their own sound judgment. They'll commit atrocious acts of violence against others simply because they were told it's OK by an authority figure.

We've already seen examples of this during the past year's mask mandates. Suddenly, people felt empowered to verbally harass, pepper spray and physically attack others simply for not wearing a mask. Families were kicked off planes because their toddlers wouldn't wear a mask. People were even shot for the grievous "crime" of not wearing a mask.

If those things were allowed to happen over mask wearing, one can only imagine what will be tolerated, if not encouraged, when vaccine certificates take full effect. The most obvious answer is to take a firm stand against devolution into inhumanity, regardless of whether you think COVID-19 vaccinations are a good idea or not. The question is, will you? In many ways, the months and years ahead will test the ethics and humanity of every single one of us.

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 years ago

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Return to Me - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Revenge and Reformation

A/N: Don’t keep scrolling! This is the next chapter of Return to Me, even if there is no gif of Poe on this one. Poe’s not in this chapter, only mentioned, so I thought I’d use a gif of my faceclaim for Lin Ral for this chapter, just to remind you what he looks like and because he’s in this chapter a lot. I promise, there is a lot of Poe to come in the next chapter and he’s mentioned quite a bit this time, so don’t get too sad or mad with me! Anyways, this chapter sets up a lot to come, so let me know if anything is confusing or you have any questions. As always, lemme know what you think and if you wanna be tagged! I love you all!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,278 Synopsis: The shelter of Serenno provides the reader and the Resistance with a chance to recoup, albeit with a few surprises. A plan still needs to be made to defeat the First Order, and the reader finds help in this planning from an unlikely source.

Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @daniellajocelyn, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mother raced forward and wrapped you in a tight hug. You hugged her back, reveling in the scent that was absolutely your mother: the flowers that grew in the fields around your house, and crisp watercress. You pushed her back a second later and studied her face, trying to determine whether she was real or just some strange illusion.

“Wait, I— Hosnian Prime. You were supposed to be there. I thought you two were . . .” you stumbled over your words. Your mother, Osira, frowned and took your hand in hers, giving it a loving squeeze.

“We were, but we took a trip to Serenno a day before the attack,” she explained.

“You’ve been here this whole time?”

“Yes. We’re alright,” she said, wrapping you in another hug. Your father stepped up and hugged you as well, smiling down at you.

“We tried to contact you on Naboo, but none of our transmissions went through,” Henri said. He and your mother looked at the group you had brought with you, their eyes finally landing on Leia. She smiled and took a step forward to embrace her old friends.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Osira asked with a confused smile and panicked eyes.

“Why aren’t you on Naboo?” your father asked. You looked to Leia for help, but she only nodded her encouragement. There would be no lying to them now, you were going to have to tell them the truth.

“I will explain everything, it’s just going to take a minute, and my friends need their rest,” you said.

“Of course,” Lin said, stepping up. “We have rooms prepared, clothing, food, everything they might need.” Commander D’Acy led the group to the prepared rooms, leaving you alone with your parents and Lin. Thankfully, Leia stuck around to give you some support as well.

“Shall we,” your father said, motioning to the door at the opposite end of the room. You led the way and entered into a conference room. You took a seat at the head of the table with your mother and Leia on either side of you.

“Why can’t we make contact with Naboo?” your father asked first, unable to wait another minute. You shook your head sadly.

“I’m afraid to admit it, but the First Order has invaded Naboo.”

“What?” your father asked in shock, a hand over his heart.

“I was reaching out to Lord Broden when a Stormtrooper cut us off.”

“What are you even doing here? Why weren’t you on Naboo with your people?” Henri asked, his temper beginning to grow as he began a full-blown rant, until he remembered who was around him. He pursed his lips and looked at you angrily, waiting for your explanation.

“I left Naboo to help out the Resistance. It has been clear to me for some time that the First Order is not going to stop anytime soon. I know the senate’s decision was to take no action unless there was outright fighting, but there is no senate anymore. For years, Leia has seen what the First Order is planning, and the galaxy has chosen to ignore it. I may have left my people when they needed me, and believe me, I hate that, but the galaxy needs us. They need the Resistance.”

“Have you reached out to Naboo anymore?” Henri asked. “Surely there is still some hope left there, or we would have heard of its fate just like in the Hosnian System.”

“We’ve reached out a few times, but our messages haven’t gone through, either,” you said.

“How did you all get here? I thought the Resistance had a secret base somewhere,” Lin inquired. You looked over at Leia who nodded.

“A few days ago, I sent my best pilot, Poe Dameron, on a mission to retrieve information that I believed could save the Resistance,” Leia explained. You glanced over at your parents to gauge their reaction to hearing Poe’s name again. Your mother was staring off, her face pale as her eyes bore into the smooth wooden table you sat at. When your eyes trailed over her and found your father, his eyes were cold and hard as he looked directly at you, and the dark leather jacket of Poe’s you still wore over your shoulders. “Poe was captured by the First Order and tortured for what information he knew. Our base was no longer safe at that point and we had no choice but to abandon it. Unfortunately, the First Order was one very short step behind us.”

“I’ve heard of this pilot,” Lin said with a smile. “He’s quite good.”

“He is,” Leia agreed with a gentle smile, also glancing up at your parents. “They must have tortured him for hours because there’s no way he’d give up the Resistance’s location so easily.” You shifted in your seat. Thinking about Poe’s torture made you physically sick, and imagining it going on for hours — you couldn’t bear to think of it.

“So, what do we do now? The galaxy is afraid of the First Order, rallying them together won’t be an easy feat,” Lin said.

“Have you talked to any of the other planets?” you asked.

“No, I’ve been working on making arrangements here.”

“Arrangements?” you asked, but suddenly realized what he meant. “Your father was a senator.”

“Yes, and I’m afraid he was on Hosnian Prime when it was destroyed.”

“I’m so sorry, Lin, I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said with a kind smile. “Like others, I want to avenge my father’s death, but my people’s safety is of the most importance to me.”

“I agree,” you said, leaning back in your chair. There were so many things to figure out, and it was only now that you were realizing how long it had been since you had slept. Your mother patted your shoulder, drawing your eyes to hers.

“No progress can be made tonight with tired eyes and grieving hearts. Why don’t we all get some sleep and reconvene in the morning,” she suggested.

“A wonderful idea,” Leia said, standing first.

“Y/N, come with me, you can stay with us,” your mother said, holding out her hand.

“I will, I just need to check in with Nové.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. Your father’s face had barely changed since Leia said Poe’s name, and you were not looking forward to a lecture tonight. With Leia at your side, you left the conference room to find the block of rooms that Lin had kindly laid out for you.

Nové stood outside one of the rooms, her arms folded across her chest. When she saw the two of you come down the hallway, she met you halfway.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“To get some rest,” Leia answered for you. She smiled at you both as she was ushered into a room by Commander D’Acy. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“Goodnight, General,” you both answered.

“What’s going on?” she asked when you were alone.

“We’re trying to figure out our next step. No one has any leads yet.”

“Your parents?”

“They’re my parents,” you said with a half laugh. “I’m glad to see them alive. My mother wants me to stay with them, I was hoping you had miraculously found some change of clothing in the Falcon.” Nové twisted her lips in an attractive smile.

“I can do you one better. One of Lin Ral’s servants gave me access to Serenno’s best seamstress, the one that designs all of the clothes for Lin and his family. She lent me a few dresses.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ll find you something to wear,” she said, motioning into the room to her left. Laid out on the bed were a few ruffled outfits, the fabrics of which were spilling out over each other to make a rainbow on the bed so that you couldn’t even tell what color the bedsheets were. “I may have gone through more than a few of them.”

“Gearing up for a date with Jessika when she gets back?” you asked.

“Maybe,” she challenged. “And you?” Your playful smile fell, making Nové lose hers, too. “What did your parents say?”

“Nothing, yet. I think they were too happy to see me to be angry that I was gone from Naboo, especially after they heard what happened. But when Leia mentioned Poe their mood definitely changed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing you a nightgown.

“Thank you.”

“I’d invite you to sleep with me, but I know your parents are eager to get their hands on you.” You laughed and nodded your head.

“Yes. Thank you, Nové. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too,” she called.

After changing, you made your way back to your parent’s room. As you stepped in, you found your mother sitting on the bed, nervously fidgeting with her long hair, and your father pacing the room in front of the window. They both turned when you entered.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Osira said, holding out her hand to you. You walked forward and took hers with a smile, sitting down next to her. “Nové was able to find something for you, then?”

“Yes.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am,” you said with a soft smile. Your father was still pacing across the room. “Dad, what were you doing on Serenno in the first place?” you asked. If he wanted to fight, you might as well get it over with.

“Working out arrangements,” he said stiffly, glancing up briefly at you with cold eyes.

“For what?”

“Your engagement to Lin Ral, of course.”

“I haven’t agreed to that,” you said quickly. He scoffed and shook his head.

“What were you doing with the Resistance? You know what that could mean, going against the explicit wishes of the senate,” he spat.

“There isn’t a senate anymore.”

“You didn’t know that when you went, did you?” he asked, turning to look back at you again.

“No,” you admitted.

“I know you haven’t made your decision yet, Y/N,” he said, coming closer to you, “But you know going back to the Resistance was a bad choice.”

“I meant what I said in our meeting. The Resistance has always been in the right. You followed Leia when you were my age, why is it wrong for me to do the same?”

“It’s not wrong, you just need to see where you are more importantly needed,” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes. You pursed your lips and looked off. Your mother stroked your long hair cascading over your back, hoping to keep you calm so that this conversation could end smoothly. “Just, tell me one thing.”

“What?” you asked.

“You didn’t do it for him.” You narrowed your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Everything I did was for the good of the galaxy.” Henri nodded and stood up straight again.

“We all need some rest,” he said.

“Yes.”

You found your way to an attached room with a small bed and a water basin. You washed your face and felt the weight of your exhaustion as you fell into bed. The soft fabric of your dress reminded you of the smooth sheets on your bed back home on Naboo. You longed to be there, away from all of this mess. You snuggled into your pillow, thinking about the only person who could make living in Naboo any better than it already was.

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You awoke early, your anxiety making you unable to sleep any longer even if you were still tired. You crept out of bed and past your parent’s room, as if you were a fourteen year old again. The tall, dark walls of Serenno’s castle left much to the imagination. Every shadow seemed to hold a dark figure until further examination proved it was only a sculpture or base.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You jumped and turned around to see Lin Ral standing a few feet from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright. Are these hallways always so dark?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh, “I’m afraid so.”

“What are you doing up?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you said with a smile. “I can’t stop thinking about Naboo. About everything,” you said, your mind wandering off to Poe and his mission.

“I understand. Do you want to try to contact them again? Maybe a message will go through this time.”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug.

“Couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, what else are we going to do in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed, and you were grateful for the dark halls. Lin led you into a cozy library a few hallways down and got to work sending out a message to Naboo.

“Alright, well the transmission is sent, now all we can do is wait,” he said.

“Thank you.” He settled into the lounge chair across from you. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and you figured he was haunted by memories of his father and Hosnian Prime as well. “And thank you, again, for all of this,” you said, drawing his eyes up to you.

“It’s my pleasure.” The fire lit in the corner of the library left the room warm, and made you feel like you might actually get some sleep. Just as you felt your eyes start to droop, he spoke up again. “I’ve been thinking about how we can stop them,” he said quietly.

“Stop who?” you asked, sitting up.

“The First Order. I know everyone in the galaxy is scared, but I also know that they are willing to fight. Millions of lives were lost when Hosnian Prime was destroyed, but millions more were affected by those deaths. I guarantee there are others out there who want them destroyed just as much as you and I.”

“So, what do you recommend? We already destroyed their Starkiller Base.”

“And the rebels destroyed the Death Star, but the Empire still started to build it up again. We’ve got to put an end to them once and for all.” Your eyebrow peaked a little as you looked at him. His face was stonier than usual, missing its usual composed look. He was hurting and ready to fight. “With the Senate gone, there is no order in the galaxy. That needs to be our first step.”

“I agree, but how do we get people to join? The minute the First Order gets word a planet has joined our fight, they’ll send an attack, just like they did to Naboo.”

“Well, someone has to stand up to them.”

“I know, but we don’t want to put people in danger. We want to be different than the First Order. People need to join our fight because they want to, not because they have to. When Leia asked me to come ba— come to the Resistance,” you corrected quickly, “She wanted me to campaign for her. For too long the Resistance has flown undercover because the senate forbade it from doing anything else. We need to show the galaxy what the First Order is and what we can do to stop it.”

“What, just the two of us?”

“If that’s where we start, yes,” you said, scooting forward eagerly in your seat.

“Where to first, then?” he asked with a smile.

“People we can trust and who would be more eager to help out. Did your father have any friends in the senate?”

“A few.”

“Reach out to them first. We’ve got to get more people on our side before we look at harder targets. People are scared and the First Order is going to come looking for them. If they’re scared, they can be manipulated to their way of thinking.”

“We need to make a stand,” he said.

“And quickly.”

You spent the morning with Lin, planning out who would be the easiest to get on your side, and what help they could bring. You listed names, allies across the galaxy, where weapons and housing could be found, and everything in between. He seemed impressed by your knowledge of wartime rituals but didn’t push to find out how you knew. When Nové found you later that morning, the sunlight was streaming into the library, making the dark corners seem more welcoming.

“Morning,” she said, looking between the two of you curiously.

“Good morning, Nové,” Lin said with a kind smile.

“Morning,” you said as she sat down next to you.

“What’s going on in here?”

“A plan to reform the Republic,” Lin said eagerly. Nové raised an eyebrow at you and you shrugged.

“It’s a start.”

“It is,” she said appreciatively.

“We reached out to Naboo again.”

“Anything?” Nové asked. You shook your head. “Alright, well, your parents are looking for you.”

“Of course they are,” you sighed, standing up.

“Leia has gathered a meeting. I’m sure she’d be very pleased to hear what the two of you came up with.” You looked over at Lin who beamed at you.

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said, standing. He nodded to you and Nové each before leaving the library. Nové waited until he was gone to look at you with wild eyes.

“What’s going on here?” she asked excitedly.

“I told you.”

“The two of you spent all night together?”

“Grow up,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I couldn’t sleep, and he found me wandering the halls. We just started talking and then began to flesh out our plan. Nothing else.”

“Oh, so it’s a shared plan?” she asked with a smirk.

“Well, we came up with it together, so yes.” Nové nodded her head and looked at you curiously. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, he is kind of hot, though,” she said, looking longingly at the door.

“Why don’t you marry him, then,” you said, walking past her. She ran to catch up with you and laughed.

“Granted, he is no Poe.” You sighed and linked arms with her.

“No, he’s not.”

“I don’t think anyone ever will be in your book. Now, let’s get you dressed. We don’t want to excite your parents by finding you in your nightgown all night with Lin.”

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You hadn’t realized how tired you still were until Nové got you back to your small quarters. Staying up all night planning with Lin had been productive, but it hadn’t done anything for your mental or emotional state. Nové asked you a few questions, but you were too tired to answer anything. She picked out a gown for you and practically had to dress you in it herself.

“Think you can walk down to the conference room on your own?” she asked. You yawned through a laugh.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

“It’s just General Organa and my parents, right?” you asked, taking the Holopad from her, looking over the notes you had taken during your meeting with Lin.

“And Lin. And Finn and Rey. And probably a few other members of the Resistance.” You looked up at her and sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Any word from Black Squadron, yet?”

“No,” she said with a frown, “But I’m sure they’re—”

“Of course,” you said, shaking your head. “In here?”

“Yep,” Nové said, opening the door for you.

Gathered around a large table was everyone Nové had listed, including Commander D’Acy and Lieutenant Connix. Your parents were the first to recognize that you had entered the room, and both smiled.

“Y/N,” your father said, pulling out the chair next to him.

“Am I late?” you asked, sitting down.

“No, just on time.”

“Lin Ral was just filling us in on your meeting,” your mother said with an excited smile.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“I think it’s a great idea,” your father said. “It would be a great start to your career in the sena—”

“The part I’m going to play in this is only to restore order to the galaxy. My devotion is still to Naboo,” you said, looking at him seriously. “And as Mom is still the representative of Naboo, I’m sure the two of you are the perfect people to lead the reformation of the senate. Lin and I came up with a rough plan, and of course, I will continue to support this effort, but that’s as far as I will go with this.”

“Very well,” your father said, averting his eyes from you. It was evident that he wanted to argue with you some more, but in this group, and the conviction you spoke with, he knew better.

“Rey, can you tell us anything about what the First Order’s next step is?” Leia asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. Kylo killed Snoke.”

“So, is he in charge of the First Order now?” you asked.

“I suppose. He wants to be in control of everything. He wants to get rid of the ‘old ways.’”

“The old ways?” Leia asked.

“He doesn’t want the Jedi, the Sith, anything. He wants to start over. With him as a leader.”

“And you by his side?” you asked. She looked into your eyes and nodded.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“If you’re here, it means you’re stronger than he is. That means he either wants you by his side or wants you destroyed. Maybe both.”

“Both sound pretty bad to me,” Finn muttered under his breath. You kept back your smile, noticing the flush to both his and Rey’s faces.

“We’ll need to create a new base in the meantime. Once we get Black Squadron back, we’ll regroup and assess our situation,” Leia said.

“What’s wrong with starting a base here?” Lin Ral asked.

“You’re very kind to house us, but we couldn’t put your planet in danger like that. We’d much rather find someplace more remote, in case worst comes to worst,” she explained.

“Very well, but you’ll stay here in the meantime.” He nodded at you specifically and you gave him a kind smile.

“Until we get word from Black Squadron, we’ll stay here. Make sure everyone knows,” Leia said, looking to Connix and D’Acy.

“Y/N,” your mother said, pulling you in close as the room began to clear, “I heard you spent the night with Lin.” You looked at your father who had the same excited expression on his face.

“We discussed plans to restore the Republic, nothing else,” you said, pulling your arm free. “I don’t know if you remember this, but I am still the queen of Naboo. I have a responsibility to my people.” You decided not to tack on ‘if they are still alive.’

“Y/N,” Leia called, drawing your attention to the door.

“Excuse me,” you said, quickly walking over to her.

“I heard about your night with Lin Ral,” she said, leading you into the long hallway. You rolled your eyes and started to argue, but she cut you off. “No, I think it’s a great thing. I need you rallying people together.”

“Leia, my parents and Lin will be doing the rallying, I’m—”

“Just going to go back to Naboo? Watch from afar as balance in the galaxy is destroyed in front of your eyes? That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know,” she said with a knowing glare.

“Any word from Black Squadron?” you asked, looking down and changing the subject.

“They’re safe. Finishing things up on Ikkrukk. Poe wants us to meet him on Yavin 4.”

“I thought we decided against Yavin 4.”

“Well, you know how stubborn Poe can be.”

“Yes, I do.”

“It’s mostly just a visit. Say hi to some old friends, pick up supplies, and pla our next move.” You gave her a skeptical look and she sighed. “I don’t know Lin. I don’t know how trustworthy he is. I know I can trust Kes Dameron.”

“So what will you tell Lin?” you asked.

“Well, we can’t afford to lose allies. We’ll continue to keep an operational base here—”

“And a secret one on Yavin-4?” Leia frowned at you.

“I don’t have much of a choice. I want to put my faith in Serenno and would gladly do it if things weren’t so dire. I’m giving him a chance. That’s the best I can do, but I can’t bet the entire Resistance on Lin Ral’s smile.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Good,” she said with a nod.

“Who’s to know about this secret, real base, then?” you asked.

“Black Squadron, Konnix, D’Acy. Finn and Rey. The few who are left and trustworthy.”

“My parents?”

“Your parents are the senate, just as Lin Ral is.”

“So they’re left out?”

“This cannot fail, Y/N,” she said, taking your hands. “If you can’t handle that—”

“I can handle it,” you said quickly.

“Good. We leave for Yavin 4 at noon. I want you there, but if you can’t keep it from your parents and Lin . . .” she trailed off.

“I can do it. Believe me, I’ve kept plenty of secrets from them before.”

“Very good. I’ll see you then.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #sw imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction

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ruusverd-fandom-blog · 4 years ago

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I just saw two different posts from different authors where people were blaming Geralt for Dara's family being killed by Calanthe because "Jaskier protected the elves by saying they were dead in 'Toss a Coin,' but Geralt ruined everything by telling the truth at the banquet!" and my head almost exploded. I typed this on mobile while angry, so forgive any typos.

Firstly, Jaskier did not intend to protect the elves with his song. He makes it perfectly clear that 'Toss a Coin' was intended to build his own Geralt's reputation at the expense of the elves. He states it clearly when Geralt objects to his lyrics. "Respect doesn't make history." Any other motive is just fans trying to twist the song into something unproblematic. (Also, building his own Geralt’s reputation by further vilifying the victims of a long-term genocide is an extremely bad thing, and there’s no altruistic explanation good enough to justify it, but I digress.)

Secondly, It's clearly stated at the banquet that Calanthe is already in the habit of indiscriminately killing elves in Cintra, even before Geralt tells the truth about Jaskier’s song. Calanthe tells Pavetta to act more like the daughter of the Lioness and Pavetta says “Oh, I guess I better go decapitate some elves and mount their heads on pikes, then!” Filavandrel’s group aren’t the only elves on the Continent, and Geralt did not make Calanthe aware of the continued existence of elves in general.

Thirdly, Dara says Calanthe ordered his family’s death after Filavandrel’s uprising. Filavandrel's group lived in Dol Blathanna, which is in the northeastern part of Aedirn, almost on the opposite side of the continent from Cintra on the west coast, where Dara’s family lived. Filavandrel’s uprising may have led to a mass slaughter in Cintra, but Filavandrel must have brought his group (or at least spread his uprising) to Cintra, not the other way around. It’s extremely unlikely that Calanthe marched her whole army all the way through several other kingdoms to Dol Blathanna just because Geralt mentions encountering a “ragged band of elves” living there almost ten years ago.

Fourthly, if we're going to start throwing around accusations, one has to wonder if Jaskier writing a song portraying the elves as violent, bloodthirsty monsters that revel at a devil’s hooves (while knowing full well they were actually starving refugees) might have had unfortunate effects on the lives of other elves trying to live peacefully in towns or villages elsewhere, presumably including Dara's family. Just to be clear: I am not blaming Jaskier for Dara’s family being killed. That’s on Calanthe and centuries of systemic racism. All I’m saying is that while it’s patently ridiculous to blame either Geralt or Jaskier for what Calanthe does to Dara’s family, of the two of them Jaskier is the one who knowingly promotes violence against elves as heroism, and Geralt is the one who never does. So if you were going to make such a ridiculous accusation, there’s a better person to aim it at than Geralt.

I’m also not saying people aren’t allowed to like Jaskier because of this. It’s absolutely ok to like characters that don’t do 100% good things 100% of the time. All of the characters in the Witcher are problematic to some degree, it’s one of the main points of the series. I’m just saying don’t go so far attempting to explain away the shitty things Jaskier sometimes does and paint him as a perfect, flawless person that you come out the other side defending his vilifying of the elves as him heroically defending them, and don’t start leveling completely nonsensical accusations at Geralt just to make the bard look better by comparison.

(Rewrite whatever you want in fanfiction. Go nuts, have fun. Just don’t post it claiming it to be accurate canon information, because it’s not.)

#the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #not tagging the bard because I'm scared of his stans #the elves show you mercy by not killing you #so you turn around and call Geralt a hero for killing them #when he didn't #wtf dude

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cozycryptidcorner · 5 years ago

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Chapter Six

You miss the party, which is no big deal. Really.

Nothing to worry about at all.

You were just going to go poking around to find all that juicy gossip to bring back home if you ever end up getting off this hellish planet. The glimmering black metal that holds your bathroom mirror is a little too well wielded for you to pull off for a makeshift weapon, you discover, as you try your damndest to wriggle one of the sharper points back and forth to snap off. Curse this excellent example of Lolth craftsmanship.

“Breakfast is ready, ma’am!”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You stare at yourself in the mirror, trying to ignore the dark crescents beneath your eyes, despite however long you had managed to sleep. Given that the last thing you remember before waking up in your bed was being on the train with the prince, it probably means that you had been picked up by someone and brought to your room delicately enough to not be roused. You don’t know how you feel about that quite yet. Not disgusted, no, you don’t feel repulsed by the idea of his hands on you…. Which, in itself, is a new thought that you aren’t sure how to process.

When you leave your room, a familiar breakfast is laid out on the table. Human food, you think, looking over the spread as a pinch of hunger finally squeezes your stomach. You barely manage to thank the maid before you inhale it all, a dull throb in the front of your head reminiscent of a hangover. Whatever that demon doctor gave you yesterday left you feeling like you are starving.

“Blessings, ma’am,” the maid says, handing you a mug of something piping hot. “The keias’ assistant asked me to inform you that your servant is being put under surveillance and repairs.”

“Oh,” you say, a small ripple of relief running through your body. Also apprehension, that’s there, too, because you aren’t sure if what you have been doing is Starward Matchmaker’s Approved™. Issues might arise. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course, my lady.”

You bite down, ignoring the shiver running down your spine at the maid’s words. My lady, she said like you were almost royalty. It feels strange, yes, but this time you think that the maid really believes what she says, rather than spitting out empty promises on the prince’s behalf. “I… I think after breakfast, I’ll just go back to my room and rest.”

“A wise choice, ma’am,” the maid responds, beginning the tedious process of washing dishes.

“I don’t want to be disturbed,” you add, shoveling something else into your mouth.

“Of course, ma’am.”

You finish the food, placing the dishes in the sink and rinsing them because you aren’t a fucking animal, and head back to your room. The lock is thick, you can hear it click as you turn the nob, but you don’t trust it. It’s an illusion of privacy, if someone wanted in your room, all they would have to do is either get one of those old fashioned keys or electronically request permission from someone with access. Easy. But still, you think that the drow maid respects your privacy enough not to come barging in when you’re worming your way through the ducts.

Because, you think, pushing the bookshelf back underneath the metal grate, any control freak would at the very least have some kind of way to monitor all entrances and exits, these bad boys included. Besides the sensor, you mean, quickly disabling it with a flick of your finger against the tablet. Anyone with common sense wouldn’t immediately assume that their charge has somehow hacked their way into their boss’ primary system.

It’s not that tight of a space for you, probably because drows are just a tad bit larger than the average humans, so it makes sense that you’re able to get around without feeling the oppressive feeling of being trapped by metal on all sides. For today, you think that you’re going to investigate that room with that matching serial number, the one on the lower floor, and for that, you will need to find a kind of maintenance tube, preferably one with a ladder. Despite all your other adventures in the atmo ducts from before, the metal in this one is warm. It isn’t distressing or anything; it’s just an odd, so you march on, pausing every so often to look over the map on your tablet. After a little while of floundering around in the breezy tunnel, you find a four-way junction, well, six-way, technically, since up and down are also options.

You wriggle your body around, sliding down feet first, going as slow as you can manage until your foot hits an indent in the metal. It probably isn’t smart to rush downward, but you do, hand over hand, moving downwards as quickly as you would risk. Falling and breaking something is going to be the least of your worries, honestly, because being found in an area where you aren’t supposed to be is high on that getting in trouble list that will not end nicely for you, shattered limbs or not.

It’s difficult trying to find the room without any of the numbers painted on the inside of the walls sucks, because you have to keep careful track of how many grates you’ve passed. Plus, the fact that might not even matter because different suites might have a different number of rooms and, therefore, a wonky set air filters. Still, though, you keep looking down at the numbers on the map, and comparing it to the numbers you’ve passed, and keep going. There- there! Just up ahead, you mentally calculate everything once more, then stop to peek into the room.

At first, it’s a bit difficult to make everything out, but there is definitely someone in there. Someone large, with eight, spindly legs, leaning over a tall desk piled high with tablets, quarry-stone paperwork, and royal stamps. You fidget, trying to find a more comfortable way to spy on your number neighbor without your tablet digging into your thigh. After a moment of absolutely silent struggling, you realize that there is something very much wrong with your friend down there. Namely that they aren’t working anymore, they’re staring right through the grate, head cocked, eyes narrow, and you finally get a good look at their- his face.

Okay, there are two ways this can go about. You can scurry back through the dark like a coward, then deal with the consequences of unwanted questions and tighter security measures, or you can take this situation by the throat and throttle it. Calmly, you kick the grate open, then wriggle your body through the opening, plopping down on your feet and trying to hide the fact that your super cool landing hurt a lot more than you had initially expected it to. But no doubt, it probably looked real wicked.

“Hey, how’s it going?” You ask a very confused prince.

“What were you doing up there?”

“Having a look around the palace?” You say, trying to stick to as much truth as possible.

“You know- you could have asked Elias for a tour.”

“I could have,” you say, thinking very quickly on your feet, “but I didn’t want to bother him.”

“It’s his job to be bothered.”

“Maybe so, but I wanted to bother you directly rather than bother someone else to bother you.”

You figured that admitting- truthfully, unfortunately- that you wanted to see him would at least swing the situation in your favor, and it appears that you are correct. He no longer looks like he’s worried about whether or not you were planning on ambushing him while he was working to take his, uh, stone figurines or something, but you’re definitely not out of the woods quite yet.

“How did you find where I was?” He asks.

Ugh, truth time now. Say goodbye to a loophole that’s undoubtedly going to be fixed in no time. “Maintenance map,” you say, turning your tablet’s screen around and showing him. “I was wondering why my number didn’t match everyone else’s on my floor. Guess I know the answer now.”

He lets out a huff of breath, one that isn’t quite disappointed, but also wouldn’t be labeled as positively thrilled. “I see. And if it wasn’t me who caught you? What if it was someone less… accepting of your species?”

“If it were, I wouldn’t have made such an astounding entrance, babe,” you say, hopping on the smooth petrified wood of his desk, “I ’d’ve scurried off into the dark like a phantom.”

“And you would have been reported,” he says, less convincingly than he was a moment ago. “The whole situation would have been difficult to cover up.”

“Sorry,” you finally give in, “I didn’t know that I was risking you as well as me; otherwise, I wouldn’t have tried anything.”

He remains silent for a moment, you see him mulling over whatever you had said over in his mind, mouth slightly pursed in thought. After a hot, thunderously quiet minute while you await his verdict, your palms start to sweat from stress. You have been pushing his boundaries, you realize, that can’t end well. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone this far, you think, picking at the ends of your nails, so you don’t begin panicking.

“I have something for you,” he says suddenly, and you almost jump out of your skin.

“Oh- um, what is it?” You ask, swallowing thickly, trying to destress yourself before your entire body freezes up and you have a panic attack.

“The human protocol would be not to ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” The prince says breezily, opening one of the drawers in his desk and pulling out an ornately decorated box. “What you told me yesterday while you were, er, rather intoxicated made me realize that this whole situation is rather unfair for you, especially given the amount of trust you would have to exhibit just to cross the border into my people’s territory.”

You can barely remember anything from the night before, just a hazy jumble of colors and voices… and that creature, the one with such a death toll on their hands that there’s order for all ship captains, civilian included, to shoot them on sight. Still, you must have said something for the prince to suddenly be so gentle with you all of a sudden. You accept the gift he holds out, running your fingers over the stone of the box, admiring the golden engravings across the top. Slowly, unsurely, you open it, finding a wickedly long, devastatingly sharp blade lying in a bed of velvet-like material, the hilt intricately shaped to look like a single, golden serpent.

“It’s a thiamas,” he quickly explains, “They were only made during the territorial wars, but the last skirmishes ended centuries ago. Now they collect dust as objects of decoration… but I thought you might appreciate learning to use one.”

“Territorial wars,” you echo, wrapping your fingers around the hilt, “so… they were used against driders?”

“Yes. I would have to train you to use it, of course, and it would be no small task, but you should at least have something to protect yourself with whe- if you decide to stay.”

You look at the knife, at the imperfect curves and bumps in the blade, the gleam of the tip in the low light, how deathly black the crystal looks in your hand. Out of all the gifts you’ve ever received, you’ll be honest, the weapons have always been the best. Tools for you to use as you will, for better or for worse. You don’t expect this to be any different.

“You’re smiling,” the prince observes, “you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly, giving him a little nod.

“Perhaps, since you aren’t busy, we should start training now?”

“Yeah, one sec,” you say, placing the knife back in its case and setting the tablet beside it. “Hold still.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“Depends,” you arch your eyebrows, placing your hands onto his shoulders. “Maybe you should be.”

Then you pull him down, just a bit, enough for you to brush your mouth against his while balancing on the very tips of your toes. It has the desired effect, throwing the prince off whatever rhythm he had been on, his entire body going impossibly still against your mouth. When you part from him, it’s a quick, jerking movement. A soft, huff of breath escapes your lips as you look at his reaction, your heart beating much faster than should be considered healthy.

“That was a kiss,” he says, slowly, as if running through the logic of the action in his head.

“Yes.”

“It’s a sign of affection.”

“Yup.” Is he flustered?

“And… it is often used as a gesture of attraction.” He regards you once more, running his tongue over his bottom lip almost too quickly for your eye to catch.

“So it is,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest.

The very corner of his mouth twitches upward, just slight enough to be easily mistaken for literally anything but a smile. “I have a private training room that is reserved for my use only, we won’t be interrupted.”

You pick up the knife again, feeling the weight of it against your fingertips. “Lead the way.”

It’s a large room, better lit than his office, with sturdy mats covering the unforgiving stone floor. The stone itself isn’t what you would call cold, far from it, actually, but the mats must have some kind of cooling gel or whatever because they feel significantly less hot than everything else. The space is another thing, though, because it’s basically a warehouse. The ceiling towers over you like a cathedral’s, and you’re pretty sure that you’ll hear an echo if you shout. You suppose that driders do need a ridiculous amount of space to train, especially since they can jump a good amount higher than they are tall. It’s actually not bad to train on, you think, stretching your legs out, it’s better than that hellhole Clementine had you in, anyway.

“You can’t be afraid to get close,” the prince instructs, “the one flaw about fighting with a knife is that distance will not be your friend. But since you are so short-”

“Not short,” you can’t help but interrupt.

“My apologies,” he says, “I was under the assumption you’ve looked in the mirror recently.”

It takes you a hot minute to realize that the prince… is teasing you? You look at him, aghast, and then say, “I am perfectly not short where I come from.”

“Not being the shortest person in a species full of short people does not make you tall.”

You place your hands on your hips. “Okay, Mr. Tally McTallface from Tall People Land, how am I supposed to make up for the height difference?”

“You’re going to have to climb up me, whatever means necessary. Give it a try.”

Challenge accepted. You look over his body again, all angles, barely any softness. The joints of his many legs might offer you a decent foothold, but you’re going to have to use something else to haul yourself up. After pondering for a bit, your eyes zero in on the flaps of his clothing, open, begging for a small pair of human hands to grab on. So you give it a try, jumping up, grabbing the open neckline of his robe, and settling your foot up on the flattest bit of his leg, and press the dagger up against his throat.

“A fine start,” he says, clearly unconcerned with the weapon digging into his skin, “but that’s not where you want to aim.”

You slide back down, landing rather gracefully on your feet. “Where should I, then?”

“Here,” the prince places a hand on the very center of his chest, “you’ll manage to hit something vital if you aim here. This is a spot where two bones sit, fused together with collagen. The thiamas is sharp enough and strong enough to pierce through with little effort.”

So you try again, offering no words of warning as you snap into action, repeating your climb but sticking the point right where the prince had been pointing, mere seconds before.

“Better,” he allows, “though you may want to move a bit quicker. Anyone with the bare minimum of combat skills could see your movements before you even make them. Again.”

Finish him, a voice inside you hisses as you jump back down to the ground. So close, so close. Take his heart and leave him bleeding. You try a different approach, this time, leaping as high off the ground as you can manage, bracing your foot right where his hip ends and one of his legs begin, then gripping his shoulder to keep from falling back down. The tip of the dagger slices at his clothing with barely any force, you immediately yank it away in fear of nicking him.

“Again.”

He’s a good teacher, much better than Clementine or the matchmaker rep. You don’t think either would be particularly pleased to hear your observation, but it’s definitely true. While he does believe that skill takes practice, he isn’t nearly as unbearably harsh as the seasoned army vet put in charge of your brief combat training, nor is he fond of physical punishment for your ‘outrageous’ behavior. It’s… actually kind of nice, you realize, because a few hours fly by without you even noticing where the time was going.

Your focus isn’t on avoiding any untempered wack with a cane or an ungodly shock of electricity; it’s on how the prince’s skin feels against yours when you pull yourself up to his eye level, knife in hand. It’s on how his eyes seem to glitter in the low light when you manage to throw him only marginally off guard and nick just the smallest needlepoint of skin. As though you aren’t merely meeting the lowest expectations he’s set for you to accomplish, but like he’s- like he’s proud of what you are managing to do with the time you have had so far.

The idea of someone being proud of you… god, you don’t want to think about that right now. It’s doing something to your insides, making everything all melty, and your eyes begin stinging with something. Sweat, probably.

“Lunch?” He asks, letting you drop back down onto the mat, his hand on yours to slow your fall. “You seem hungry.”

“I feel hungry.” Your body is doing that thing where it vibrates due to a drop in blood sugar, which is basically its way of telling you to shovel food into mouth now please. “But I’m trying to acclimate to the two meal per day schedule you guys have here.”

“Nonsense,” he says briskly, “you shouldn’t starve yourself. I’ll order your maid to bring up some food while you clean yourself up. Unless, of course, you would rather return to your suite for the day?”

Do… do you want to go back to your room? Not really, especially with the matchmaker rep’s shell rotting wherever his assistant sent it. You do need to talk with the prince about what’s supposed to be done with that thing, but you had forgotten entirely about her just now. Plus, food does sound super-duper at the moment, and since you don’t think you can do much until you replenish all fuel gone with the training session, it’s pretty darn easy to decide that you would very much prefer to remain in the prince’s quarters for as long as he’d have you. If someone dares question your judgment… it was all for reconnaissance.

“If your bathtub is better than mine,” you threaten, waggling your fingers, “I warn you, I will only bathe there from now on.”

He seems amused. “I’ll allow you to judge the difference, then.”

The prince’s bathtub isn’t just better than yours, it’s much better. Like, you might have been just a tad bit put off by the luxury of your own apartment, but holy motherfuck, you don’t even know what to do with yourself when you step foot into his bathroom. Maybe wash your hands? Apologize to the polished marble for even looking at it? The bathtub is precisely the size you’d thought it would be, ridiculously large, big enough to fit the prince’s towering frame and then some. To you, it’s essentially a swimming pool, maybe one big enough to do some laps in, and your immediate thought at finally gauging its size was: bubble bath + big tub = bubble mountain.

“Is it better than yours?”

You barely manage to croak out a word in affirmation.

“I’ll leave you then. There should be something in my closet you can wear temporarily, feel free to look around.”

Bubble mountain bubble mountain bubble mountain bubble mountain. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Um,” you take in a shaking breath, “if you could turn on the water while I look for something to change into, yeah. I don’t know how to work the controls.”

“Of course.”

You make your way to the closet, and that almost feels like stumbling into some kind of otherworldly dimension. It’s… large, that’s for sure, and filled from wall to wall with clothing, jewels, weapons, and even armor, but you aren’t confident what exactly you can fit into without swimming in fabric. You pull open a drawer, rifling through different robes and tunics, until you find something that you can at least tighten around your waist so it doesn’t slip off your body like a silken tube.

When you emerge from his closet, the tub is only about marginally full, despite the water from the spout gushing like a goddamn waterfall. It’s… odd, you guess, seeing water used too liberally without any thoughts of conservation, but that isn’t needed here like it is up in space. Thousands of rivers run through the stone and metal, so it’s not like the prince is just showing off how much water he can afford to waste, either. It’s just a thing that’s normal.

You show him what you picked as if you expected him to be at all particular about the clothing you borrow. He only offers a nod, letting his eyebrows arch, and then saying, “I’ll leave, then, come out whenever you feel ready.”

“Right,” you say, reaching down and feeling the water’s temperature. Perfect. Huh. “Will do.”

The water feels glorious against the muscles you hadn’t even realized are sore until this exact moment. Everything melts down into a puddle of warmth, and after scrubbing some soap over your sweaty bits, you lean back and let yourself float. It’s almost like being adrift in space, in an endless void, surrounded by a vast nothingness that makes you feel like a blip in the eternity of the universe. There isn’t anything here to worry about, the matchmaker rep, the admiral, Clementine... even the prince fades away, bleeding out into the water. You take a long, deep breath, closing your eyes for just a moment, and pretend that you’re out doing a run for a local smuggler. Something external is damaged, so you just popped out of your ship to do a quick repair. Everything is fine. Everything is safe.

But it doesn’t last. The water begins to run cold, which you usually wouldn’t mind, except now you’re reminded that you’re here, grounded, and on a mission. The crushing feeling returns, the stress resuming to rest around your body like a smothering blanket. You don’t cry, though, because tears help no one, but you do let out a single, whimpering breath just to get a portion of it out of your system. Get up, get out, you tell yourself, hauling your soaking body out of the tub and onto the slick floor. Dressing isn’t as bad as your brain psyched it up to be since your arms are a tad sore, and you manage to wrap it around yourself enough to the point where, while not particularly attractive, serves its function as a temporary outfit.

You look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath.

Don’t forget to smile, the matchmaker’s voice echoes in your ears.

You leave the solitary safety of the bathroom.

#drider #exophilia #monster lover #monster/reader #monster x reader

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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12 Angry Men: A Product of the Times

Despite what shows like Leave it to Beaver and Father Knows Best would have you believe, the 1950s in America were not a ‘simpler’ time.

The soldiers came home from World War II, the economy expanded, and the nation’s population grew and thrived, all seeming like absolute wins in our nation’s history. The suburbs grew, and the ideal nuclear families began popping up. Everyone dressed to the nines, the War was over, and so was the Depression that preceded it. America was prosperous again.

At the same time, the Korean War began. McCarthyism kicked off a terrified hysteria about the invasion of Communism. Sputnik was launched, the Cold War was off and running, and Americans lived in fear behind their white picket fences. Men went back to work, women went back to the home. Rock and roll was born, and the young people, now called teenagers, started rebelling against the conformity of their parents. Racial tensions began rising. Oppressed people across America began looking to the future for change.

This was the world when 12 Angry Men made its debut in theaters.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Simple.

In order to truly understand and analyze any work of fiction, we must first contextualize it. To do that, we have to know what the culture was like at the time.

Why?

As I’ve mentioned many times on this blog, no piece of media is an island. Everything we watch, read, or listen to is a direct product of the culture it was created in. The creators were influenced by things around them, be they other pieces of media or simply events and attitudes of the time, and as a result, the film, television show, or book is a reflection of the culture, be it critical of it or embracing of it.

Such is the case with 12 Angry Men.

The premise of a jury made up entirely of middle-to-late aged, middle-class white men passing a decision on a Puerto Rican boy from the slums seems, by its very nature, firmly set in the era of the 1950s. The attitudes of multiple jurors seems to emphasize this fact with plenty of prejudice against the defendant for his background, ethnic and otherwise, his age, and even his relationship with his father. 12 Angry Men is definitely a film that is discernibly made in an era that is behind us. To some, that would be enough to seal its doom with the ultimate stamp of disapproval any ‘old’ movie can get: the verdict of ‘Dated’.

As those of us who indulge in older films are more than aware of, sometimes, older movies just don’t hold up quite so well. When that happens, oftentimes the film is referred to as ‘dated’. Oftentimes, the things that people consider ‘outdated’ are things that can’t be helped: slang, clothing, hairstyles, special effects, technology, or even styles of storytelling that were popular at the time of the film’s release.

Therein lies the problem.

By that logic, that definition of the term dated, every single piece of media ever made is ‘dated’ and therefore, nothing is ‘timeless’. This is bad news for every creator of art who desires to make something that will outlast them. If everything is connected to the culture, the times it was created in, then nothing is worth watching outside of the era it was created in. This would lead to many classic films, television shows, and books becoming long-forgotten. Even now, there are many who don’t like watching things made before the date of their birth, claiming they are ‘cringey’ and ‘dated’.

Again, by that definition, they’re right.

Here, though, we have a different definition.

The term ‘dated’, the idea of being directly connected to the era and culture of a piece of media’s creation, is easy to forgive when the ‘datedness’ extends to a mullet, a mixtape, or a money-shot that looks a little cheesy by modern standards. However, that form of dated is not the problem.

‘Dated’ is really only used in a negative context when the movie or show it is describing is not as enjoyable to modern audiences as it was when it was released, suggesting that the passage of time has done more to damage the film than credit it. This definition of the term ‘dated’ exonerates films that have not lost the enjoyability of their core story in the years that have followed.

Being ‘dated’ is far more damaging when it is attached to outdated ideas. It is there that we have our problem.

An outdated idea can damage a film ten times more than any pop-culture reference therein. These are the films based around inherently problematic elements, that never address (and in some cases seem to promote) ideas that we now know are problems. It is this definition of ‘dated’ that we need to apply in order to tell how well 12 Angry Men has held up.

Looking past the clothes and the hair is the glaring problem of the all-white, all-male jury. Definitely an effective reminder that this film was made in the 1950s, for sure, but that could be as much a reminder of the times as it was an effect of them, for as the film tells us, there’s quite a lot of bigotry going on in 1950s America.

The only character in the film who is not explicitly Caucasian is the unnamed defendant, the Puerto Rican boy from the slums. It is his fate in the hands of the twelve men, and unfortunately, to some, his fate doesn’t seem to matter. Juror #10 notably holds the opinion that he is one of ‘them’, displaying superiority and prejudice that cannot be overlooked as ‘harmless’. During his rant on the subject at the end, he is ignored, abandoned, shut down by his fellow jurors, who are more fair-minded. As Juror #9 (Curiously, the oldest of the bunch) points out early in the film:

“Only an ignorant man can believe that…Do you think you were born with a monopoly on the truth?”

An important idea in this film is that of open-mindedness, of fairness to our fellow men. The movie stands as a jarring mirror to some of the bigoted ideas held by many in the 1950s, in more ways than one. While the film definitely has a biting opinion of those who look down on people from other backgrounds (ethnic or otherwise), there’s also an interesting look at the youth of the 1950s in the film.

The defendant is a young man, basically a boy, accused of killing his father after a fight. In the first age of teenage rebellion, Juror #3 speaks the words of parents who feel wronged by their children, while simultaneously carrying the guilt of spurning them to rebellion in the first place. The idea of making your sons into ‘men’ at age nine is treated as being a problem, driving a wedge between both father and son, a possibly irreparable one.

These themes alone would seem to date the film right away, with the heavy emphasis on ideas that were prevalent at the time, if it weren’t for the context with which the ideas are viewed.

Rather than glorify either idea, or present them as being acceptable in the culture, both of these elements are viewed critically by the narrative and the characters within it. The film, while not exonerating the rebellion of the children, acknowledges the part that parents play in it, and outright views racial prejudice with disdain. Not only was this a demonstration of progressive thinking, it’s also still relevant today.

In fact, there isn’t a whole lot about this movie that isn’t relevant today. The idea of ensuring that our justice system works is one that will likely never go out of style, and the critical mirror the film holds up to some of the ideas of 1957 holds up very well in an era where some haven’t moved too far beyond the same thinking. The film, and the ideas it was based around, still resonate with audiences who see it today, managing to leave an impression over sixty years since it’s original release.

On the other hand, there is a total lack of female characters entirely, (hence the title), leading to some remakes to add a female judge (to keep the name) or change it to 12 Angry Jurors or in some cases, 12 Angry Men and Women (In other cases, the title has been changed to 12 Angry Women.) This would seem to be the response directed at the one issue the film never addresses, that is, the lack of female representation. If anything, the lack of it makes the critical reflection all the sharper, the world of the 1950s being dominated by men in general. The absence of female presence is telling, leaving the twelve men as the focus, all with ideas that (for the most part) are familiar with one another, if not shared by each other.

In short?

12 Angry Men loses some of its enjoyability only if one has no concept of our society’s history and current climate. It was relevant in 1957, and it remains relevant today, in a culture not so far removed as we might think. As we continue to progress, 12 Angry Men will stand forever as a landmark and a reminder, no less moving now than it was over sixty years ago.

Thanks so much for reading! Remember the ask box is always open if you have any suggestions, questions, comments, or just want to say hi, and I hope to see you in the next article.

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fernsandsunflowers · 4 years ago

Note

Your knowledge of Harry Potter is like a rotten apple with worms in it!

Expressive! thanks for voicing your opinion.

I really hope this is in regard to the Snape post (x) I made years and years ago and has resurfaced recently and not JKR is a terf and can fuck off this planet please and thank you posts I’ve reblogged.

If it’s about Snape, I’ve seen most of the comments, I haven’t taken the time to read it all but general opinion seems to be two-sided there are those who agree whole-heartedly with my post, and those who do not. Most in the do not agree category has pointed out that heroism is not a competition. This is absolutely right, the story itself should have taught me that long ago, like when little Neville stood up to the trio in book 1. I apologize, sincerely, for comparing their acts of bravery. They both did amazing things and I hope, if it ever comes down to it, god forbid, I find in myself the same strength and bravery. The post itself was poorly worded. My goal was to ask that we show the same love and respect to Lupin as we do for Snape. That clearly didn’t come across, instead I got carried away and had written a post that ended up elevating Lupin’s acts of bravery while putting down Snape’s. Regardless of their background they both did heroic things and in the end gave their lives to save others. These acts of bravery deserve to be honoured and respected.

However, I stand by my statement that Lupin is the better man. I have seen a lot of comments that admit to Snape’s wrongs but use the excuse of unprocessed childhood trauma and mental illness. I will not accept this ‘white man’ excuse. I will admit, again, here that Sirius, James and Remus were wrong to have bullied Snape. Sirius, in fact, was still a bit of a dick after he returned from Azkaban. But why can we excuse Snape’s faults as the product of childhood and later life trauma but not Sirius’? Why do you continue to condemn Sirius for his bullying while at Hogwarts but make up excuses for Snape’s reprehensible behaviour towards his students?

Yes there were no systems in place for Snape to process his trauma (he did have one positive influence, Lily, but this was clearly not enough), that is a grievous institutional error. This exists in our world and is something that needs to be rectified immediately, in every country. There were no systems in place for Harry, Neville, Remus, Sirius and Regulus to process theirs either. In Regulus’ case he didn’t have the benefit of a positive environment too. But your argument is that everyone processes differently. My argument is that, Snape’s trauma doesn’t negate his negative actions in the same way that Voldemort’s trauma doesn’t negate his. If you are excusing Snape for being complicit in the murder of so many muggles and muggleborns because he was abused as a child and grew up in poverty, then you must also excuse Voldemort for murdering people based on his trauma from growing up in a shit-hole orphanage, in poverty and being hated and rejected by his father. I genuinely don’t know if Snape has killed anyone before Dumbledore, I vaguely remember a scene in the Prince’s Tale chapter where Dumbledore says something along the lines, you must have done it before? and Snape implying that he has not. I don’t have my book with me or I would check. It does not matter, aiding and abetting is still a crime. Why do we say ACAB? Complicit is still guilty.

I have no patience or place in my heart for anyone that chooses to join the side of racists and fascists, knowing full well what it meant. That’s what he did. You cannot deny that Snape was extremely capable of critical thought and was intelligent enough to see plainly what Voldemort rising to power meant to his supposed love. Or to thousands of innocent people. But he joined anyway, for power. Do you think I will be forgiven by my friends, or even you all, if I actively supported Trump, or ISIS, or an example from my own country (Sri Lanka), the extremist ‘Buddhist’ organisation called BBS that stands against Tamil and Muslim people (I put Buddhist in quotation marks as people who believe these ideologies are no longer Buddhist), or even my own father in his anti-muslim stance? He had Lily, who he loved, yet still joined an organisation that was murdering her people and posed a fatal threat to her as well. I do not have patience for that and I will not be shamed for it. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for willingly joining the wizard equivalent of Nazi’s and Neo-Nazi’s then fine, that’s your prerogative. I have chosen to forgive James, Sirius and Remus for bullying Snape when they were kids. That’s my prerogative. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for bullying children under his care to the point of terror and psychological trauma, because he himself had experienced trauma, I guess that’s your right as well (though I admit it infuriates me).

Also because I’m on a roll now, I will not stand to be asked to care about and include Peter Pettigrew in anything related to the Marauders. I understand that he was a part of the Marauders and I understand he was afraid for his life. Amongst the countless things I don’t have patience for, is disloyalty. The fidelius charm cannot be forced out of you, or bewitched, or tortured out. It must be shared willingly. Peter was already working for Voldemort since before he was made secret keeper. The Order knew there was a spy in their midst. Systematic racism within the wizarding world led them to believe that Remus was the Spy. Sirius was probably the first to believe it. Peter obviously felt some regret over it, but eventually divulged the information to Voldemort the first chance he got. I cannot and will not forgive that. If Peter was really a good person and was afraid for his life or for the life of his parents, or whatever, he would not have run back and actively looked for and revived Voldemort after he was ousted. He could have just left the country and hidden somewhere else where he would probably not have been recognised. He had an ounce of regret over James’ death that led to his own death, but in the theme of this post, it doesn’t negate his crimes.

To better help you understand why I am against Snape but support several others who have done wrong in their lives here’s an example. Someone who joined the Death Eaters willingly that I do forgive is Regulus Black. I believe he didn’t know any better, he grew up in a household where the only voices and opinions he heard was that of his racist af parents who applauded Voldemort. The impact of this influence is reflected in the way that Kreacher responds to muggleborns and their allies. This is an intelligent species to whom blood status of wizards should not matter. In the same way that countries colonized by Europeans that should not have anything against black communities are racist towards them. Because all they’ve heard about Black People comes from our colonizers - also, the power of representation comes up here, after gaining independence, the racist concepts that European colonization left against ourselves, other poc’s and black people were reaffirmed by the negative stereotypes presented in white media, which unfortunately is broadcast worldwide. But that’s a whole other can of worms. Kreacher is later taught, and experiences differently. He begins to show respect to Hermione and fights against Voldemort - the man his masters supported so thoroughly. I forgive Kreacher too for the part he played in Sirius’ death, here is someone who’s trauma and upbringing really does excuse their actions. He comes to understand that he made a mistake, learns and changes. Regulus wanted to make his parents proud, they supported Voldemort. Sirius, I don’t believe, helped Regulus understand any differently and rebuffed and berated him for parroting their parents views (this is never the right thing to do), thereby pushing him away.

We of course also know that Regulus had a kind and understanding nature, this shows in the way he treated Kreacher. He joined the Death Eaters when he left Hogwarts thinking he was doing the right thing. And immediately realised his parents had been wrong to support Voldemort, he tried to leave and couldn’t. In the end he actively tried to bring down Voldemort and his movement. As soon as he gained some substantial information on Voldemort he acted, giving his life to do so. Snape remained with the Death Eaters even as they killed countless muggles and muggleborns. He reported to Voldemort the prophecy he heard - if Regulus had been in Snape’s place here what do you think he would have done? reported to Voldemort? No, he would have kept it to himself, or taken the opportunity even to tell Dumbledore he would like to join their side. Snape, on the other hand, would have seen to it that Voldemort succeeded in ending this threat if it weren’t for one thing: Lily. This is NOT a redeeming quality.

Do you understand what it is I’m trying to explain? I’m not as eloquent as most of you here, so I’m sorry if I’m botching this up. Snape’s childhood should not have stopped him from seeing what Voldemort was doing. It should have been enough that he had Lily, a ‘mudblood’, to show him that Voldemort targeting muggleborn’s and muggles was wrong. Regulus had no one he loved who was a muggleborn. Neither did Kreacher. Sirius didn’t either but learned before he met Lily or any muggleborns that Voldemort’s and his parents views were wrong. So did so many others. Shit, even a lot of you must have been taught racism and unlearned it later when you were exposed to the truth. I know I had to as a child. Harry Potter played a key role in my own unlearning. Snape, knowing all this, joined Voldemort. That is why I do not support or forgive him. He continued to stay in Voldemort’s employ, rising in rank to the point of being accepted into Voldemort’s inner circle and being granted the Dark Mark. May be he was uncomfortable, but this did not stop him from following orders and committing crimes against humanity. He only stopped when the one muggleborn he thought was actually OK was being hunted by Voldemort.

Some of you have said in the comments that Snape was working against Voldemort since before the prophecy and threat on Lily. Where do you get this idea? Please tell me I genuinely want to know how you know this. Because in the Half Blood Prince, Trelawney’s drunken rant let’s Harry know that it was Snape who had heard the prophecy and told Voldemort about it. When confronted, Dumbledore tells Harry,

‘Professor Snape made a terrible mistake, he was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy, naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know, he had no possibly way of knowing which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew. That they were your mother and father.’

- HBP, Chapter 25: the Seer Overheard.

Harry goes on to laugh at this statement referring to Snape’s hate of his father. Dumbledore responds to this with,

‘you have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realised how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry.

It’s pretty easy to read between the lines here. Snape only turned from Voldemort’s side when he realised that Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy to mean Lily and James’ son, meaning Voldemort now posed an undeniably direct threat to Lily herself. If I can go a little further here, I believe Dumbledore’s empathy towards Snape stems from the part he himself played in helping Grindelwald’s plans for world domination and his own attempts to reconcile with his guilt over the matter. For me, this choosing to turn only when Lily was threatened does not redeem him because he either did not understand or care for the damage he was inflicting to others. If he had not been in love with Lily, he would have just let it happen and continued supporting Voldemort, how is that right? ‘It is the thought that counts’, this thought doesn’t sit right with me.

He never tried to redeem himself for joining Voldemort, only the part he played in Lily’s death. In my eyes he acted out of guilt, he was sorry for Lily’s death but not for joining a side that murdered thousands of innocent lives. He later chastised anyone who used the word Mudblood in his (private) presence but I interpret this as a reaction to the word reminding him of his and Lily’s fallout. I don’t believe it had anything to do with him actually understanding the damage behind its use. In death, he may have felt he redeemed himself, and Harry apparently felt the same. Washing his hands of Lily’s blood may have been enough for him, Dumbledore, Harry and you but it is not for me. His actions in later life did not, in my opinion, redeem him from willingly joining Voldemort and bullying children.

I apologize for comparing Lupin’s and Snape’s acts of bravery that was unreasonable. Snape’s actions certainly led to the downfall of Voldemort he acted heroically, but for me, he did not redeem himself entirely. It’s as simple as that. I respect that some of you believe he did. That’s fine. But please don’t gloss over the fact that he did work for Voldemort of his own free will, any negative influence he had that led him to believe that muggles and muggleborns deserved to be killed, dominated and enslaved (which is what Voldemort stood for) should have been countered by knowing Lily.

I love the complex character that he is, but I do not agree with his actions in early life, or the motivation behind his actions in later life. And that’s allowed so please stop breathing down my neck.

If this was about JKR being a terf, then maybe this will help: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/trevor-support-center/a-guide-to-being-an-ally-to-transgender-and-nonbinary-youth/

Sorry this was meant to be short but I am physically incapable of keeping things short. This is also the last post I will ever make with regard to my feelings on Snape because well, I’ve been doing it for years and I don’t really care anymore. You do you.

#harry potter #hp #severus snape #anti snape #marauders #jily #anti snily #my post

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renaroo · 5 years ago

Text

Super Brothers (2/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: This is almost late and I apologize. I have no excuses other than my brain is turning into as much mush as everyone else’s. But I really am enjoying where the future of this story is going and am really excited to get there. But, first, we have to reach some difficult places first.

Before we go further, I must say this: TRIGGER WARNING. There is overt child abuse and child harm in this chapter. It’s not super detailed and it gets cut off, but I do not want people to get upset from it without warning. So please take care of yourself first and foremost.

I’m blown away by the support this fic is getting so far and I appreciate you all so very much! Special thanks to the lovely comments and promotion from @secretlystephaniebrown, @spiralcass, @noartificialfruitjuice, @fred-astairs-dark-impulses, @karagordon, and elietrope on AO3 and tumblr!

Chapter Two: Pay in Full

Damian isn’t surprised when he is the lone attendant of breakfast the following morning. His wrists are still bruised up and a little painful from his restraints, but he ignores them under the cuffs of his school uniform and is the picture of polite society and manners. He eats confidently and alone.

It isn’t unusual, only disappointing.

Fortunately, Alfred is nothing if not an excellent reader of the atmosphere and does not force conversation or dullness on Damian that is unwarranted. He leaves the youngest Wayne to a peaceful meal.

The quiet makes it easier for Damian to overhear Alfred conversing just a step or so into the hall.

“Ah, Miss Cassandra, it is unusual to see you up and about at such an hour,” Alfred’s voice carries with a genuine mix of praise and surprise.

“Yeah, um,” Cass mutters, speech slurred with sleep, “can you, um, take me? Soon? He wanted to talk to me.”

“But of course. I can take you as I take Master Damian to the academy this morning.”

Starring toward the door, Damian lets his oatmeal slip off of his spoon and carelessly plop back into the bowl. He doesn’t even pay attention to the splashes of oats which end up on Alfred’s meticulously cared for table runner. He’ absorbed by the implications of the conversation happening in front of him.

After an encounter with Professor Pyg which ended as eventfully as his did, Damian anticipated some negative news getting to either his father or Grayson. And while Damian didn’t want for Dick to hear about Damian’s poor performances without him, there was at least some trust.

Grayson would be annoyingly supportive and want to use the entire event as some sort of learning experience.

Father is something else entirely.

After a few moments of subconsciously holding his breath, Damian glances down to his oatmeal and finds it suddenly subpar.

He pushes out from the table, chair legs protesting loudly, and tosses the handkerchief from his lap onto the table. Damian is on his feet and in the hall before Cassandra even has time to leave Alfred and redress herself for the day.

“Alfred, I do not need to attend the academy today,” he announces.

The butler tilts his head slightly and raises his eyebrows minutely. “I believe the education system would disagree with you entirely.”

“I have things to discuss with Father,” Damian elaborates stiffly. “Important information that outweighs any supposed social-developments I am pretending to make.”

Cassandra scratches at her jawline and frowns at Damian. She’s assessing him, her dark eyes boring into Damian’s soul and evaluating every tremor of his muscle.

Which makes it even more annoying that her choice of commentary is to say, “Bad at it. Pretending,” she jokes.

“Silence, you,” Damian hisses ferally. “The entire first year I lived here, I had to listen to everyone talk about you and never once did they mention your sass.”

She offers a half-shrug. “Forgot the best part.”

“Tt, more like the worst,” Damian teeters, hands on his hips.

For a moment, Cassandra seems to be ignoring him as she looks over Damian’s head at Alfred and rotates her shoulders. “Maybe shouldn’t go to school,” she offers, surprising Damian entirely.

Alfred seems just as taken by the suggestion and looks at her suspiciously. “Why so, Miss Cassandra?”

“Had a bad night,” she explains. “Probably does have important stuff to say.”

Heat flushes into Damian’s face. His eyes glaze into a distinct red hue and his shoulders tremble as he clutches his hands into fists by his side. There is almost certainly steam coming off of him as anger overtakes him in a way that it hasn’t for ages now.

“How dare you!” he roars.

All too casually, Cassandra glances down to Damian and raises an eyebrow at him. She doesn’t say anything with words.

“How dare you assume so much about me! You don’t even know me!” Damian continues, bringing his fists up as if ready to brawl. “Perhaps what I’m going to do is while you wish to tattle to Father, I’ll tell him the truth about how you are nothing but an interference here in Gotham! That you do not deserve to trespass on my affairs! And that absolutely everyone wishes you would bugger off again so that everyone can go back to the way things were!”

“Master Damian, that is enough!” Alfred says coolly. He never raises his voice, but he never needs to.

Despite himself, Damian snaps his jaw closed. But he doesn’t stop glaring into Cassandra’s face, her eyes. His anger is still boiling over, no matter how much he’s contained it.

Cassandra looks back at him, her face drawn and unreadable.

It makes Damian even more upset.

“That is no way to speak to anyone, certainly not family,” Alfred reminds Damian. “Considering your injuries—“

“I am not injured that gravely, Pennyworth!” Damian sputters again.

“—I can see the benefit to a day of recuperation from school, so long as we do not continue this theme habitually,” Alfred persists. “We will leave for your father’s office as soon as Miss Cassandra is ready to leave. And we will not leave a moment sooner than that.” He looks to Cassandra and pats her shoulder. It’s the only thing that gets her to pull her gaze away from Damian. “I encourage you to get ready for the day at your leisure, my dear.”

After that, the conversation is over, and Damian ends up sitting in the foyer waiting for the better part of an hour as Cass does just as Alfred insisted.

***

“There he is!”

Jon is still wiping at his eyes as he stumbles through the apartment. It’s difficult, in these early mornings, for him to focus on appropriate amounts of strength, so he shoulders into furniture a touch too hard or bangs into the doorframe with enough force to send pictures lined down the walls tumbling down.

Some things that are less natural to him since his coming into power, like flight or his special types of vision, take more effort and alertness. Not his super strength, however fortunately or unfortunately.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen, his feet padding over the shift from hardwood to tile. He can smell the scrambled eggs before his dad even set them on Jon’s prepared plate.

At the table across from Jon is his mom, already in a beautiful silk top with a gold necklace of large geometric squares. Her chin-length hair is curlier than usual which means she hasn’t straightened it. Her lashes are long, nearly swooping down to her cheeks as she looks down to her iPad as she reads. When she takes her cup away from her lips, a dark purple lip stain is left behind on it.

Jon admires her for a moment, scooting into his seat but not pulling up to the table.

“Good morning, honey,” his mom says full of affection. Her violet eyes glance up to his face.

“Good morning,” Jon says back, smiling brightly.

“Leave walking room, champ,” his dad says from behind. Before Jon can even think, two massive hands close in around the edges of Jon’s backrest, then his whole chair is lifted and scooted up until Jon’s chest nearly bumps the table.

“Sorry, Pa,” Jon says automatically, sparing a glance as his father moves over and plants himself in one of the two chairs between Jon and his mom.

Even in a collared shirt and sweater vest, Jon can see what a massive shadow his father leaves for him. He is broad-shouldered and firm, even with his softness. He has a body that exudes power and strength. It’s only with folded in shoulders and deflated presentation that Clark Kent can convince the world there is a difference between himself and Superman.

At home, among family, as Pa, Jon knows his dad is unmistakably Superman.

When Pa’s large hands reach for his cup of orange juice or poke at scrambled eggs with a fork, it makes Jon look at his own hands.

They’re thin, nimble hands. Soft.

Mom has said on more than one occasion that with fingers as long as his, Jon needs to either learn piano or practice keyboard typing. And Jon is certain he has no ear for tunes.

“I almost came to get you a second time, young man,” Pa says between bites of eggs. “I warned you before about staying up late. I know there are plenty of things an eleven-year-old boy thinks are cooler than sleep.”

Curling his nose, Jon shifts uncomfortably. “I’m almost twelve now,” he reminds them. “You said I could push curfew when I turned twelve.”

“And you’re still not twelve,” Mom says, closing out the tabs on her iPad. She looks very seriously at Jon. “And it doesn’t matter what age you are, my mother’s intuition tells me you’re watching scary movies with the Wayne kid again.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Jon squeaks. “I promise I wasn’t!”

“You had nightmares last night, Jon. We share a wall with your room,” Pa says, face the picture of sympathetic. “And it’s okay to have nightmares sometimes, but you’ve been having them a lot lately. Something like that would usually require something scaring you.”

“Like movies,” Mom adds, still eyeing Jon suspiciously. “Is it Gotham? Maybe we shouldn’t let you go to Gotham so much. Especially this time of year. I hate that stuck-up little island, Clark. No wonder he’s scared.”

“Wait, no, it’s not anything to do with Gotham or movies or Damian,” Jon argues emphatically.

Both of Jon’s parents stop and do the thing Jon has come to hate most during their meals. They look up, toward one another, and seemingly carry out an entire conversation with each other through micro expression alone. It would be adorable if they weren’t his parents.

Jon decides to take the time to begin shoveling in his eggs. His dad’s cooking may be simple but it’s always filling.

“Do you want to talk about these nightmares you’re having, Jon?” Pa asks gently. “You and your body have been put through a lot of changes very quickly over the past year or so. You’ve gotten your own powers, you’ve moved schools twice, your mother and I both are back at full time. That’s a lot.”

He chews over his father’s words for a long moment and considers them.

For most of his young life, Jon Kent has been able to tell his parents positively everything on his mind. They are loving, supportive good people. The best people. Whether they’re superheroes or super reporters, they make Jon proud with almost every second of every day.

But his nightmares make his throat fill closed and tight in ways that are impossible to express. He likes to think they could know, but it feels like they couldn’t.

They couldn’t know how certain words or certain looks or certain things make him feel like he’s crawled into someone else’s skin. Like he’s been lying to everyone on accident this whole time. That what people see him as is undeserved.

What could he ever say to explain that?

Not to mention, explaining that he was patrolling in Gotham and got captured by some madman like Professor Pyg is probably worth far more trouble than simply admitting to scary movies with Damian.

“I don’t remember them,” Jon lies through his teeth.

“That can happen,” Pa says warmly.

When Jon looks up, it’s unsurprising to see that his mother’s face is fairly neutral. She looks at him worriedly and unconvinced.

If she plans on saying anything, however, the moment eludes her. Her iPad lights up simultaneously with the default ding of her phone. She glances at them both before getting to her feet. She’s a full inch taller in her heels and wearing Jon’s favorite skirt of hers.

“Clark, are you going to take Jon this morning?” she asks. “I can use it to excuse you from any early bellows from Perry.”

“Of course,” Pa says, leaning back and tilting his head for the optimal kissing angle.

Mom comes around the table and ducks down, holding back her hair delicately as she kisses Jon’s forehead. “Have a good day, hun, I love you.”

“Bye, Mom, you look beautiful,” Jon informs her as she leaves.

He watches her go and takes a breath. His gaze is only broken when his dad holds his glasses out in front of his vision.

“Don’t forget these,” Pa reminds him.

“Oh, thanks,” Jon mutters, taking the thick frames. His motion is stopped, though, as his father doesn’t let go. He glances back up to Pa and raises a brow.

“Jon, do you know how polygraphs work?” Pa asks, still not letting go of the glasses.

“Um, not really,” Jon admits.

“They measure your heartbeat, because if someone’s not a good liar then they will increase their heart rate, and the machine records it,” Pa explains as he finally lets go of Jon’s glasses.

Despite himself, Jon’s heart picks up its pace. He glances down to his lap. “Do you always listen to my heartbeat?”

“Since before you were born,” Pa says softly, running his broad hand over Jon’s hair. His thumb strums the locks affectionately. “And you thought I was the easy parent, huh?”

“I just don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet,” Jon explains worriedly.

“That’s okay,” Pa assures him, letting go of Jon’s hair. “But I’d appreciate you not lying to me or your mother.”

Jon frowns. “I won’t, Pa, I promise. Sorry I did.” He glances toward his mother’s seat and notices her coffee mug sitting where she left it. Her purple lipstick is still staining the side. “Do you listen to mom’s heartbeat?”

“Practically since the day I met her,” Pa laughs, picking up both of their finished plates. “I always listen out for the hearts of the people I love. It’s,” he pauses in thought before continuing his walk to the sink, “it’s comforting to know everyone’s safe.”

Humming some, Jon puts his chin on the kitchen table and focuses. His mom should be in the elevator on her way down. If he uses his x-ray vision he could even watch her. But instead, he listens. It’s hard to focus on the beat alone, to isolate it. It could give him a headache until he’s better at it. But Jon can do it.

It’s one of many things he can do, he can be because of his father — a polygraph.

But as he listens for his mother’s heart, Jon wonders if there are more things he can do and be because of his mother.

“Pa, it’s a good thing to want to be more like mom, right?” Jon asks before he can stop himself.

His pa lets out a deep laugh over the running water in the sink. “Jon, everyone wants to be more like your mother. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

And that, Jon decides, is comforting.

***

Lor-Zod learns through the sunstones in silence. His eyes are transfixed on their histories and piloting and mathematics, but his mind is distantly occupied.

His mother has stood vigilant at the door, unmoving, the entire morning. She has not greeted him yet, has not introduced herself to him. Standing, quietly, scathingly.

The moment Lor finishes his aeronautics lesson, he feels his mother’s hand close around his wrist. He is reaching for the next lesson, but she is suddenly upon him, stopping him. Her face is mere centimeters from his own. Her nose snarls.

“You are summoned, Lor,” she tells him, as though he should already know.

“Where, mother?” he barely has air in his lungs to ask before he is jerked into the air and guided through the halls of their palace.

As they travel swiftly through their palace, Lor notices for the first time that he has not seen servants or even heard servants all morning. That is beyond unusual, and it makes their giant crystalline halls even more empty than normal.

Something sits unsettled and worrisome in Lor’s chest. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“What are we doing, mother?” Lor attempts again, voice tight with fear.

“Is a child to speak out of turn?” she asks angrily, her brown hair whipping across her face as she looks over her shoulder.

Lor obediently shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

“Then you have no turn,” she informs him. When she looks ahead once more, her fingers tighten around his wrist. “There is a lesson to be learned today.”

Silence overtakes Lor as they reach the grand hall and entrance of their palace. There still are no servants to be seen, and there is also no sign of the general. Every hair on Lor’s body stands on end as he realizes just how wrong everything is set up to be.

But he cannot even force himself to speak. He knows better. His body knows better.

As they bound out of the giant doors to their palace, Lor realizes that they are opening up to an enormous gathering. There are purple-skinned Jekuul natives for as far as Lor’s unaided vision can see. They all face forward, toward the intimidating staircase to the palace’s entrance. And to the general.

General Zod does not even turn his shoulders toward Lor and his mother as they come to his side. He is facing forward, over the crowd.

Lor is positioned harshly, stood in front of his mother. She swiftly shifts her hand from his wrist to his shoulder, her other hand matching it. They grip him fiercely, nails clicking against the Kryptonian armor beneath.

When Lor looks up to his mother’s face, he can only see her chin as it faces the general obediently.

Then, when Lor follows her gaze, he lets out a soft gasp.

They are not the only ones standing on the stairs. There is also a familiar, tiny purple girl in his father’s grips.

“Ti’ahl? What’s she doing here?” Lor asks before his mother’s grip becomes even more constricting. He feels his chest freeze up, his heart pounding again.

“You are out of turn, child,” she hisses down at him. “Watch.”

Swallowing, Lor looks back to the General.

The General seems satisfied after Lor falls silent, and he begins speaking out in a tongue so strange but familiar. His voice booms and echoes over the silent crowds below. He’s speaking in Jakuul, Lor knows that much, but still not what his father is saying.

For a moment, Lor tries. He tries desperately to understand what is being said, but none of it makes sense. There aren’t even the familiar possibilities of understanding like he had with Ti’ahl just the day before.

Thinking of Ti’ahl, Lor glances down from his father’s face to where Ti’ahl stands trembling in the General’s grip.

She looks paler than yesterday, her purple skin lighter in the face and almost blue in her cheeks. Her big, dark eyes are tear-filled and sunken, her hair messy. It occurs to Lor that she is wearing the exact same clothes that he last saw her in.

Only at that moment does Lor realize she never made it home last night. But he can’t imagine why.

Deep down, Lor wishes to speak to her, to comfort her, to offer his cape once more, but she doesn’t even have it now. Lor wonders, idly, where it might be.

The General’s voice picks up in fervor, growing in a tempo as the crowds below become unsettled.

Lor doesn’t know what to think, what’s going on when he sees his father wrench Ti’ahl’s arm back and up into the air at a frightening angle. It makes the little girl scream in shock and begins crying, tugging.

Not sure what is going on, Lor opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

With a flick of his wrist, the General turns Ti’ahl’s arm completely upside down and a hideous snap echoes through the hot Jekuul air.

Stunned, Lor stares at his father and at the little girl he played with yesterday. The air erupts with high pitched squeals and sobs from the crowds below. Ti’ahl herself hangs limply unconscious, only held up by the General’s tremendous grip on her arm.

His mother holds him down with so much force, Lor feels as though he will sink through the stairs. He can’t look at her, can’t hear her past the thundering pulse in his own ears. He stares only at his father who is happily soaking in the shock and awe of the crowds.

Then, Lor snaps.

All he can see is red and then his father’s shoulder is smoking, singed.

And, for the first time since the night before, General Zod looks at Lor.

“I am disappointed, Faora,” the General says angrily. “You assured me that our child was being raised in the traditions of Krypton. Are those traditions not that punishments are handled by the mother?”

“They are,” Lor’s mother says, aghast, before yanking Lor into the palace doors.

Lor hits the floor before he even sees the smack coming. And it is only the first.

He hardly feels any of it, numb to everything with the sound of that crack echoing throughout his whole body.

#Damian Wayne #Chris Kent #Jon Kent #Cassandra Cain #Alfred Pennyworth #Lois Lane #Clark Kent #General Zod #Ursa #writing #super fic #Super: Super Brothers

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