#and a lot of people along the way decided they could exploit it individually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years ago

Text

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Word Count: 8.3k

“We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing.

You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

“And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

You blinked, “Wait, what?”

Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

“Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take.

“Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

“Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way.

“The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

“Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

“No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment.

“Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

“But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

“All the easier,”

The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

“How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

“She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

“Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

“She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

“I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear.

“The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same.

“And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

“Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

“You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

“Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

“This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

“Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

“The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

“Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up.

“Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

“Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

“Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,”

“Much better,” Wanda agreed.

You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

“We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,”

“You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck.

They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

“So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

“That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now.

You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

“Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

“Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way.

“Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

“I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

“Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

“Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

“All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife.

On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

Fuck.

“That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

“And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

“Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

“What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

“Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms.

“You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,”

You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

“If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

“I’m not hiding myself,”

“But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

“And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

“Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

“Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with.

You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

“Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

“Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

“What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

“I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each.

“Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

“If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

“Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them.

Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

“What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man.

“It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

“Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

“Brat?” You snarled.

Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it.

“Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in.

You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

“Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

“Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway.

“Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

“What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

“I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue.

“She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

Water.

You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

“Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could.

Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

“Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

Why? Steve asked again.

Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise.

Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

“Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

“I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

“I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

“You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him.

“What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

“And what were you expecting?”

Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

“What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

“And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

“Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

“Thank you,”

You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

“Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

“I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

“Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound.

Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

“She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

You nodded fervently, “Yup!”

Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

“Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,”

You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

“I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

“Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

“What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

“You’ve had enough for tonight,”

“It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

“Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

“No,” he responded curtly.

“Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

“No,”

Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

“’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

Oh shit. Your job. The job.

If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

“How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

“Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

“You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

“Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

“They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out.

You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

“There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor.

“Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

“I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t.

“How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

“I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

“You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

“You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

“So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?”

You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

“You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

“We?”

He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

The shuffling started again.

Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

“Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

“Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

“I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire.

Fight. Move.

You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

“Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

“Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

“Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

“Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

“We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to.

Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

“Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

“That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

“You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

You nodded slowly, “I am,”

Then a few more seconds.

Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

“Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

“More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,”

He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

“You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

“Not to my face,”

“Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours.

“It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

“I see your hands are exposed,”

He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

“Stunning,”

“Smart?”

“Genius,”

“Good at her job?”

“Amongst the best,”

“Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

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be-gay-do-heists · 4 years ago

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hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam.

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/.

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

#leverage #miko speaks #jewish stuff #jumblr #leverage redemption #spoilers #lr spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #written for a non leverage audience because i want my rabbi to read it alskdjflaksdjf #elul

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marshmurmurs · 4 years ago

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hey. hey psst. grian & purpled friends au is a banger. you um, you got any more? mayhaps?

Ok so you're gonna have to bear with me for aa few moments since this au is made by someone who hasn't watched Evo in a hot second and someone who I believe hasn't yet finished watching it, so we are mostly working off of fanon and my terrible memory for Watcher stuff

With that said, you've heard of Watcher!Grian, now get ready for Watcher!Purpled too :D

So you’re probably wondering how in the world we got here. It started with Peggy mentioning that Purpled got a clean view of both Tommy’s duel with Dream and Phil taking out Wil. That’s enough for me to start the Watcher propaganda babey!!!

“They watch but cannot be seen”

I'm pretty sure I yoinked this quote from a sign that showed up in some Watcher thing at some point. Purpled sure does watch. I also believe he has done some messing around with replay mod to see inside the prison or something? So yeah, Watcher boy be looking. And the “cannot be seen” part? He’s constantly falling into the background, almost forgotten, and maybe it's in his very nature.

Grian and Purp were both Watchers, though their time as Watchers only briefly overlapped. Purpled was already a Watcher during Evo times, having been picked up by the Watchers while traveling the void in his spaceship. They had promised him he would become something greater than himself, he would be part of something important, he would have a legacy. Purpled went along with them, at first, it wasn’t like he really had anything better to be doing. Besides, the magic and wings he got out of the deal were pretty cool.

It was when the Watchers started looking to recruit Grian that Purpled started to question why he was there. That legacy they promised him, he wasn't sure if they ever delivered on that. If anything, it was the Watchers that were benefiting off of him. The Evolutionists were the only people who were confident in their existence, and even then, they only knew of the group as a whole. They had no idea how many of them there were or of any of the individuals within. He doesn’t think that was ever what he wanted out of joining the Watchers... He wasn’t actually sure what he had wanted out of them.

Purpled noticed the Watchers focusing their attention on Grian, he saw how they worked to break down his will to rebel. Sure, he had joined them, but it wasn't like he had been told all their rules upfront. Naturally the guy who had continuously tested the limits of their patience when they had been some unknown power wouldn’t stop that just because he was one of them now. Grian would push the limits of what he was allowed to do, finding loopholes, dancing around the rules, and even outright breaking them at times. The two interacted a few times and Purpled liked the guy well enough. He liked him enough to break the rules himself and not report Grian when he caught him breaking some rules, he even pointed out a few spots in the rules where the phrasing could be exploited. Still, he recognized the opportunity Grian’s presence provided him. Purpled was no longer the newest Watcher, no longer constantly under their gaze. He could just leave, and if he was smart about it, he could get away and have plenty of time before anyone noticed.

So he did. With a final o7 to Grian, Purpled left. Their final encounter within the Watchers domain went something like this:

Purpled: Hey do you want some advice?

Grian: Sure

Purpled: *walks away never to be seen again within the Watcher’s domain*

It was only later that Grian realized what the advice was, long after he began sneaking out, began testing the limits of what he could do. It was long after he figured out that an eye couldn't really look within itself and he could use the very powers the Watchers had given him to hide himself from them, long after he'd made his own domain, long after he'd slipped away to a land he created specifically to stay out of their sight and reach that he realized what the advice was. Purpled had left. His advice was to leave. Grian had—albeit unknowingly—followed that advice.

Purpled had taken a much different method to getting away. Instead of making himself untraceable, he hid in plain sight. He went to Hypixel and made a name for himself playing Bedwars. With each game he won, with each game he clutched, he amassed supporters. Players, believers and doubters alike, began to bet on the outcome of his matches. Purpled had made himself seen. He knew the Watchers knew he was there, but that was the point. They couldn’t reach him, not without breaking their own rules, at least. Unlike the two Players turned Watchers, the original Watchers cared deeply for and were bound by their rules. Even if they had tried anything, Purpled managed to create his own legacy, making for himself what they never could. Beyond that, he'd found friends, he'd built a community, surrounded himself with people who would look for him and make themselves a problem for the Watchers if they tried to make him go back. They were forced to sit by and do nothing as he continuously broke their most important rule.

Purpled didn't need the Watchers, he never did.

Grian didn't really know how he felt about the Watchers. He didn't think he hated them, not really. The Watchers had given him a taste of true freedom then immediately began to restrain him. They'd given him wings and the power to create worlds in mere seconds, something which would not only take a regular Admin a much longer time, it would require a significant amount of preparation. He was given the world at his fingertips but was limited by the long list of rules the Watchers enforced. He doesn't regret joining them—he wouldn't give up his wings for the world—but they just weren't enough. The more they tried to make him fit their mold of a perfect little Watcher, the more sure of that he became.

It was almost funny, the Watchers had become stricter in order to prevent another Purpled situation. They were trying to ensure Grian wouldn’t leave them too, but in doing so, they had given him reason to. He was a bit curious though, he wondered what Purpled was up to now. Grian hadn’t gotten news about him since he’d left the Watchers.

So Grian went to Hypixel, he wanted to see if he could track down Purpled. He knew the other was there, judging by the leaderboards, but he couldn’t seem to catch him around the hub. He managed to track down gamblers betting on Purpled's victories. Grian followed that lead, tailing the person who was updating them on the results of Purpled's matches. Somehow that person continued to find intel without Grian catching where Purpled was. It made no sense, and if he was being honest with himself, it had long since reached the point of being frustrating. Eventually, after an infuriating amount of dead ends Grian decided he may as well play a few games before calling it a day and heading home. He tried a few solo matches of bedwars and while PvP wasn't really his thing, he had to admit throwing fireballs at people was pretty fun.

Grian finding Purpled wasn't even intentional on his part. At that point he wasn’t even actively looking or playing the game properly. He’d simply started building houses after politely asking people to leave him alone with varying levels of success. After a few games, he received a friend request from the person who had won the last match with a message inviting him to join them for some doubles. Grian accepted after a moment of thought, they seemed polite enough. They had left him for last when it would’ve been way easier and much more convenient to just continue their clockwise sweep.

It didn’t take Grian long to realize that his new companion was nicked, though to be fair, he was too. It’s not that he particularly cared when someone was nicked, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. There was something about this person, the way they held themself, the general energy around them, something that just felt so familiar. Try as he might, though, Grian couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

It was when he noticed the absolute confidence and ease in which his companion threw themself into the void that Grian finally gave in to his curiosity. Players usually avoid the void, and even if they did jump into it for strategic purposes, he's never seen anyone

recover as fast as his companion did. While they ran off to go stab someone who was getting too close to their area for comfort, Grian tried to look past their disguise. He was met with resistance, surprisingly. Usually looking past a Player being nicked was no issue. He pushed harder, it was more than just curiosity at this point, he needed to know who this was, why they were able to resist him. Somehow the results were worse this time. Grian realized with increasing bewilderment that he could no longer even see his companion. His teammate was just gone, there one moment and gone the next.

Grian blinked away the purple in his eyes, focusing on his surroundings. There were no new bridges leading away, his teammate was still in the game, and they hadn't died. Where could they have gone? He continued to scan the island when he was suddenly hit with the overwhelming sense of being watched. There, standing beside him was his teammate, eyes glowing the same purple Grian's had moments before.

"Something wrong, Grian?"

It all clicked for him then. His nicked companion was the guy he had been looking for the entire time, he’d only just now decided to reveal himself. Of course Grian’s Watcher abilities hadn’t helped, Purpled had way more power here than he did. He was just a guest in the other’s domain, he never had a chance of finding him if he hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Y’know, you could have been a lot clearer.”

“Rule 7. Besides, you figured it out, didn’t you?”

Once they reunited, the two realized they still got along well. They agreed to keep in contact, and they did. Grian would sometimes hop onto Hypixel to join Purpled for a few games—always nicked, they didn’t want the Watchers to realize they were in contact— and other times he'd drag him off to a creative world to challenge him to a game of build swap or various flying courses he’d created. The two often swapped tips and tricks for things they were good at. Grian would give Purpled lessons on building, block palettes, and flying (he argued the other only ever really using his wings while voiding didn’t count). In exchange, Purple would try to give him advice on various things he’d picked up from playing bedwars: block clutches, speedbridging, and general PvP.

When Purpled was invited onto the DreamSMP, he was fairly excited. He loved what he had going on with Hypixel and his friends there, but part of him had always wanted this. Ever since he was with the Watchers, overlooking everything on Evo and worlds before that, part of him had wished to be on the other side of things. This desire only grew stronger as he heard the tales of what Grian got up to on Hermitcraft.

The Dream SMP was nothing like he expected it to be. It turned out to be a hardcore world, only 3 “lives” allowed per player. There were also seemingly infinite respawns, though, which made no sense. He wasn’t sure which was more annoying: the unclear respawn rules or the fact that he was never told about them before he agreed to join.

Besides that, there was also some entity with a great amount of power, even more than the admin himself. Purpled had noticed their presence fairly quickly upon joining and he was immediately on edge. He had no information on the being, their power, their motives, nothing. And that felt dangerous. Purpled had unintentionally ended up falling back into old habits from working with the Watchers as he tried to establish himself in this world. He claimed land for his own, carving out his own domain within that of the unknown god while trying to avoid catching their attention. Eventually, once he was comfortable enough within the world, he began trying to reach out, trying to get involved in the things that were happening. He heard there was a war brewing, and if he learned anything from Grian, things were about to get really fun.

They didn’t.

His attempts to involve himself mostly failed, so he went back to doing what he had before. He claimed more and more land and continued watching over events from the sidelines. Things got serious, conflicts got personal, and unless he was directly pulled in by someone he considered a friend, Purpled just watched.

Anyway my excuse for whatever is going on with their designs is that Watchers can control how they are perceived. This is my city and I want them to have cool wings. Also Peggy was supposed to be my impulse control but the memo got lost in the mail and she never got it, so she enabled me instead. Now we have both funky dragon/parrot vibes on Grian and vague alien/phantom/vex vibes on Purpled

#ask #mcyt #grian #purpled bedwars #dreamsmp #hermitcraft #marsh tries #says marsh #writing is pain #gonna go play mc now to cope #au hours #ill come up with an actual name for this au at some point #but that is not now

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middlenamesage · 4 years ago

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Black Moon Lilith and Lilith the Character Archetype: My Reflections Coming out of Black Moon Lilith Conjunct the North Node

Following the astrological transits, both the collective and my personal, I have for a while noticed that when Black Moon Lilith is at play, it’s really hard for this to go unnoticed in my life. I always could sense this energy, I knew what it felt like, but used to find it hard to describe, or at least to dissect enough to understand with any valuable meaning.

Physically speaking, the astronomical point known in astrology as Black Moon Lilith is the point along the Moon’s orbit that is farthest from Earth (the lunar apogee), a point that changes position in the zodiac along with the changing orbit of the moon. To me it makes sense this point can be so potentially relevant to us, as all living beings are very much guided by the Moon, who keeps us in connection with each other. Out where the Black Moon is, in this metaphorical place of exile, it’s more of an “every man (or woman!) for himself!” vibe. Lilith is very much about the instinct of self preservation. It’s about resisting control or exploitation by others (and/or internalizing its effects). Often the two occur together as two faces of the same trauma. Black Moon Lilith represents the areas where life has taught us that we absolutely must advocate for ourselves. However, she can also bring shame and denial of wants wherever she is placed, or transiting, because this is something that generally develops where we have been told or shown we can’t have something.

Black Moon Lilith is in fact named for Lilith in the old testament/Jewish folklore, and the way we have come to make sense of its effects (rather, its correlations to our lives) is in considerable measure inspired by this character, and her archetype- who has many interpretations. Lilith was Adam’s first wife, before Eve, who left his ass! She refused to lie beneath him during sex, saying they were created equal. I think we can interpret this metaphorically, of course, as resistance to being controlled in many potential terms… but also literally, as there is a focus of unconstrained sexuality concerning Lilith, which I have observed has some definite relevance to the Black Moon too, but is far from the only or even the most important way to understand it.

Various legends say that after fleeing Eden, Lilith went on to become a she-demon/succubus/baby kidnapper/baby killer/so on….. (those are just the accusations I’m recalling off the top of my head). But over these many years, Lilith has picked up many other story lines, provided inspiration for phenomena such as Black Moon Lilith, and gained many evolving faces and interpretations. Other than being a religious figure, and/or a she-demon, some of her contemporary associations include witchcraft/dark magic, creative renditions in fantasy and horror, gothic culture, and the biggest switch of all, her status as the first feminist.

As a potent force from the most distant shadows of the Moon’s reach, where connection to one another is compromised and we must turn to ourselves to defend our basic natures, I’ve found that Black Moon Lilith can have both positive correlations- such as going one’s own way where it truly benefits one’s life, putting one’s foot down to mistreatment, and stepping into one’s personal power- and negative correlations such as pushing away and/or disregarding other people, general concern with defending one’s own initiatives, to the point where it is premature or anti-productive, and the shame, denial and/or rage that many have developed from being disallowed their power by others.

How we express Black Moon Lilith can be instigating healthy boundaries on one hand, and setting up unnecessary walls of defense on the other. It can be self respect on one hand, and self obsession/failure to consider others, on the other. It can be self protection on one hand, and self sabotage on the other. It can be shame and denial over who we really are/what we really want on one hand, and it can be where we liberate ourselves from shame on the other. Very often, it seems to dole out as a complicated mix of both the “bad” and the “good”.

It used to be that reflecting on my own experiences, despite my fascination with it, there was very little “good” I saw about the Black Moon’s correlations in my life. I came to associate the energy of Black Moon Lilith with a few of my “trauma responses” that have caused me to sabotage relationships. I felt she had helped me stand up for myself/walk away from people a few times when I actually needed to, but for the most part, she seemed to just make me quick to unconsciously wreck budding relationships, reject others, put up lots of walls, or not want to cooperate/compromise with others- even though this was also betraying my own desires deep down to be close with others. My natal Lilith is in Libra in my 7th house, so the relational element of her is especially relevant.

I think that this Black Moon wound of mine in the realm of partnerships has several big origins/perpetuators I can site, but one of the first and biggest that I can consciously analyze, is having internalized the messages I was told by a parent growing up (not necessarily said in as blunt of terms as I received them) that no one would ever want to be with me because I am too difficult to live with. (I was also shown this when my parents sent me elsewhere to live.) Internalizing this message about myself stripped away my personal power when it comes to partnerships. For so long I approached all relationships assuming they were damned to end before they ever got too serious (something I still do struggle with), and I long believed, a belief that at some times was not as much conscious as it was confirmed with my deeply engrained unconscious behaviors of sabotage, that a ‘true’ and committed relationship is simply something I can’t have. This long internalized belief has given rise to many of my independent behaviors in relationships... both in destructive ways that compromise my connection with others and/or alienate them, and in positive senses that protect my individuality and self respect.

Here’s the thing. I was never wrong to see my trauma responses in the force of Black Moon Lilith. Black Moon Lilith and Lilith the archetype are in fact rooted in trauma. We mustn’t trivialize that part. The defense mechanisms, rage, shame, denial, sabotage, the desire to leave people and things behind, and the general mechanisms for self-preservation which can accompany Lilith stem from instances where we have felt held down, lead to believe we don’t have power, mistreated, and in some cases even horribly abused/violated. But the reality of Black Moon Lilith’s painful origins does not make it all a bad thing! It can be a very empowering thing potentially, because where we are hurt is also where we can find the avenues for healing, and for gaining acceptance of our most authentic self and desires. And there is a very good reason we develop many of these less than savory reactions from traumatic experiences and messaging. Lilith teaches us to recognize our boundaries, and to reclaim the personal power that once was lost! - even if at times we may run too far with these prerogatives in stubborn quests for independence and personal autonomy wherever she resides.

Though I have been fascinated by and intent to ponder Black Moon Lilith for probably over a year now, my reflections on it, and later on the character Lilith for which the lunar apogee is named, have really gained a lot of new ground during this last month+ of Black Moon Lilith’s conjunction to the North Node. (Which is currently separating, but still in effect.) The Lunar North Node is another very important point in relation to the Moon’s orbit, which shows the path forward. Black Moon Lilith with the North Node in Gemini has proven too be so ripe with many new experiences for me to learn about Lilith. It’s hard to say if anything has actually changed about my relationship with Lilith, or if I am just starting to see more of the positive in her that was always there, instead of just noticing and perpetuating the glaring negative. Also, I decided it was about time to accept Lilith as a part of who I am. I can’t deny the power the associated energies and the archetype has had on my life, so I might as well embrace it- both the good parts and the parts that are a work in progress. (And that is the story of my new little stud earrings with the Black Moon Lilith symbol!)

One aspect of my relationship with Lilith that I think actually has started to bloom forth in more of a clear-cut positive way with this Lilith-North Node transit, is finding the power to actively and productively embrace a part of myself, via finding/claiming opportunities to keep cultivating this part, even though it’s meant having to disregard my reservations, and even fighting through some shame. I can see now that there is a whole world of great personal empowerment to be tapped into with Lilith, and not just in the ability to leave people behind. (But of course leaving people behind is one means she’ll employ, if it is necessary for stepping into her power!)

I have always seen myself as a writer. It’s not even by choice, and a great deal of the time, for a very long time, I have really resented this natural compulsion of mine. You see, I have a deeply complicated relationship with writing, one that undoubtedly needs some healing. Well, this Black Moon Lilith/North Node conjunction in Gemini, moving through my 3rd house of communications (and as I only found out the other day, also conjunct my natal White Moon Selena, i.e. the lunar perigee/polarity to Black Moon Lilith) ended up bringing me my first opportunities ever getting paid to write… something I guess I just used to assume I couldn’t do, due to my lack of a college degree, as well as the difficult relationship with writing and my paralyzing perfectionism. But with this transit, I placed aside my assumptions of what wasn’t possible for me, and I have some hope now that accepting the opportunity to write for other people, on subjects that generally don’t even mean anything to myself, may just turn out to be the good dose of objectivity needed to help restore some healing to my writing relationship.

Once again, where you’ll find the wounds in your relationship with your personal power, is also where you’ll find how to heal them, and use them to empower yourself and others- and that healing is really what Black Moon Lilith conjunct the North Node has been trying to facilitate for us all. Of course, the process is basically never straightforward and easy, nor all enjoyable. This transit has brought a wide range of Lilith experiences in my life to comment upon.

Some other occurrences have been: abruptly ending an extended off and on relationship with someone where there was always a good deal of power struggle (and would have been power imbalance if I had not stood my ground in a lot of instances), unconsciously driving away or creating distance with a few friends, being consciously and stubbornly persistent in putting more distance between myself and my family than ever before, and facing a couple situations providing awkward trial and error experiments in how I communicate my dissatisfaction to others who wronged me. But I know that all of these experiences are helping me to evolve, and to better understand my responses which stem from wounds that have set into me with the nature of Black Moon Lilith.

And I marvel at the fact that millions of other humans have also been going through experiences which are forcing them to confront and/or evolve their own instincts and behaviors associated with the Black Moon, whether they realize it or not.

Lilith says, “These are my boundaries[or conditions]. You will respect them, or I am outta here.” She says, ‘I know what I am capable of, so I’m gonna fight for it- even if I have to shut out other people.” The placement of our natal Black Moon Lilith shows a prominent area where power has been stolen from us, whether through physical or psychological means (and where the Black Moon is transiting can bring up these issues in other areas, as well). Lilith develops from a wound, and her determination to not feel the powerlessness again can serve as either the healing or the perpetuation of it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

P.S.

For any astro heads reading this with this knowledge of their birth chart, I welcome you to comment or reflect on where 5° Gemini falls in your chart. This is where the (currently separating) conjunction of Black Moon Lilith and the North Node occurred, so the house in your natal chart where it’s transiting, and any natal placements that may be in aspect to this point, especially conjunctions and oppositions, may be able to show where/how you have embodied or encountered Black Moon Lilith energy in recent times.

NOTE :

If anyone is wondering which “Lilith” in astrology I have been referring to, since it is a fairly infamous fact that there are actually 4 things bearing this name in astrology… I have for the most part only followed the mean calculation of Black Moon Lilith (and with Black Moon Lilith’s conjunction to the North Node, mean Lilith is what I’m referring to).

There is also Osculating Black Moon Lilith (aka True Lilith), which is a different calculation of the same concept I have discussed with Black Moon Lilith. A calculation that is actually technically more precise about the moon’s orbit, for the moment that it is taken, as the lunar apogee technically jumps around a little bit a whole lot… yet I have personally found Mean Lilith to be more worth following, especially when following collective transits, if trying to examine the effects of something lingering over an extended period of time, or if conceptualizing Black Moon Lilith’s cycles throughout the entire zodiac. I don’t doubt that the calculation of osculating Black Moon Lilith (which often is not too far from the mean calculation) has a lot of validity to it too though, perhaps especially for natal chart interpretations, and progressions.

As for the other two Liliths, there is the asteroid Lilith- but that is named for a French composer, not the Lilith archetype as we know her. Not saying it isn’t something worth looking into, it just hasn’t been a point of focus for me. And lastly, there is Dark Moon Lilith (aka Waldemath Moon), which is said to be a dark body of unknown origin revolving around the Earth- but there is a lot of debate as to whether it actually exists. I don’t have an opinion one way or another, and I haven’t followed it in transits. However, its placement in my natal chart, with an opposition to Black Moon Lilith for one, does peak my interest.

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hope-grace-serenity · 4 years ago

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In Defense of the Deputy: Morals and Ethics in Far Cry 5

The narratives of recent Far Cry installments have been framed in a way that make the player question whether or not they’re truly playing as the “good guy.” In Far Cry 3, Jason slowly embraces the violent lifestyle on Rook Island, gradually finding the killing to be a fun power trip instead of the horrifying reality that it is. In Far Cry 4, Ajay topples a ruthless dictator, only to replace him with a revolutionary that is either a religious extremist or a person who has children kidnapped in order to make them into soldiers/slaves. In Far Cry 5, the Deputy goes up against a professed prophet in an attempt to subdue him and his cult, only to find in the end that the prophet was right about the end of the world. It is logical to think that if the Deputy would have just left the cult well enough alone, then that would have been the right choice, as it would have avoided the war between Eden’s Gate and the rest of Hope County, as possibly the Collapse itself. However, there is a different way to view it.

The purpose of this post is to convey that Joseph being accurate regarding the Collapse does not necessarily mean that avoiding confrontation with Eden’s Gate or joining them would have been the “right” thing to do. In fact, it will suggest the opposite: that the Deputy has a moral and ethical obligation to fight *against* Eden’s Gate and that the actions of the cult are firmly wrong despite the Collapse happening. While we as players can certainly feel empathy for the Seeds, their actions within the game make them the clear villains in this scenario, in my opinion. The Deputy deserves no blame for attempting to subdue the cult, and I will explain why by focusing on both in-universe rationale and looking at the narrative from a broader perspective.

The Warrant

First, we need to examine the idea of morality and ethics. Morality refers to a person’s principles of right and wrong--this is something that can be influenced by a person’s culture, religion, family, experiences, etc. Ethics refers to rules of conduct given by some kind of external source. In Far Cry 5, the protagonist is a law enforcement official with an ethical obligation to uphold the law and confront those who break it. Furthermore, from the perspective of a 21st century American--which we can assume the Deputy is, based on the setting of the game--Eden’s Gate commits several acts that cause harm and remove the personal agency of others, which provides the Deputy with a moral motivation for stopping them, as opposed to solely an ethical one.

An arrest warrant is made for Joseph Seed due to suspicion of kidnapping with an intent to harm. The Deputy choosing not to go through with the arrest would be bad from both a moral and ethical perspective. “Kidnapping with an intent to harm” is a serious charge, and can be a matter of life or death for the victim. Imagine if you were the parent or sibling of the kidnapping victim, and you found out that the law enforcement officials chose not to go through with the arrest of the suspect because they were afraid of rocking the boat. If that information was made public, the law enforcement officials would be rightly criticized for not doing their jobs, and for prioritizing their own desire for convenience over bringing justice to the victim. By arresting Joseph Seed, the Deputy made the moral and ethical decision.

As we see from the main game, the “suspicions” listed in the arrest warrant are later proven to be correct. Alex is killed, and his body is mutilated and put on public display as a warning. Hannah is tortured physically and psychologically, and is also killed due to her forced participation in Jacob’s trials. Joseph and several members of Eden’s Gate knew that they kidnapped the film crew. They knew in advance that Law Enforcement was coming. So, how do they decide to handle this? In a way befitting for characters who are meant to be viewed as villains.

Before the Reaping

Before we get into what the Deputy actually sees in-game, one thing needs to be made clear: Eden’s Gate always had an underlying darkness surrounding them. Regardless of what they looked like on the surface, they were never some peaceful hippie commune that was minding its own business before the Deputy came along. They’ve been committing crimes and getting away with them for years. They didn’t suddenly snap once the Deputy arrived--the Deputy’s arrival simply peeled back and revealed what was already there.

We know from the “Grieving Note” that Angels have been with Eden’s Gate for several years, longer than the current Faith has been with the group. Angels are humans who are exposed to an extreme amount of the Bliss drug, which causes them to lose their capacity for human thought and essentially act as a literal mindless follower. Their loss of identity and individuality is furthered by Eden’s Gate shaving the heads of the Angels and surgically removing their ability to speak. They act as slave labor--described as "beasts of burden"--and are fed dog food and garbage. The idea of becoming an angel is used as a threat to fellow cultists in the “Cult Note” in the King’s Hot Springs Hotel. The fact that Eden's Gate creates and condones the existence of these Angels is truly disturbing from a moral perspective, due to the inherent exploitation and dehumanization. When Angels die, their bodies are tossed in a pit of “boiling muck” in Horned Serpent Cave to disintegrate.

Angels aren’t the only ones thrown in the pit to disintegrate: Joseph threw the body of Lana, a previous Faith, in there as well, despite being told by him that she was “special.” There is a reason the writers chose to highlight that the bodies were disposed of in here, as opposed to the cult simply burying them. Bodies are disintegrated if you want to hide evidence, and by tossing the bodies in a location with properties dangerous enough to require a bio-hazard sign, any crimes are easily covered up. We don’t find the bodies of Selena or the other previous Faiths who were "used up and thrown away" by Joseph, but considering there are hints that point to foul play (disintegration of Lana’s body, Megan leaving out of fear of what Joseph could do after seeing that there was a new Faith, the way the position itself is dehumanized, the fact that Joseph has a designated corpse disposal spot in the first place, etc.) and absolutely zero evidence towards any kind of alternate fate for the previous Faiths, it’s easy to put two and two together and conclude that the previous Faiths met a grisly fate that was covered up as well.

Eden’s Gate was also involved in animal abuse through the creation of Judges, which were unleashed after the reaping. These animals were kidnapped and forcibly exposed to an obscene amount of the Bliss drug, which purposely causes them to act like rabid killers in the service of Eden’s Gate. According to NPCs, they were trained to hunt humans.

Let’s also not forget that Joseph personally gorged a guy’s eyes out for being a traitor. If the developers didn’t want us to view Joseph as someone who was capable of doing that, then they would have removed it from the introductory video, but they didn’t. Also, the fact that Eden’s Gate has been planning for the Reaping for a while now shows that this group had the intent to launch a large-scale attack from before the Deputy even arrived at the compound.

And last but certainly not least, YEARS before the events of FC5, Jacob sent the Cook to kidnap Jess’s family. The Cook starved the family for days before torturing the parents and children by playing sick mind games and feeding the parents' flesh to their children. After all their toes were cut off, the parents were set on fire in front of their kids. The fact that this happened years ago, and this Cook is still with the group, is quite telling and reveals a lot about the morality and priorities of Eden’s Gate. If they wanted to get rid of him, they would have.

So as we can see, Eden’s Gate has no moral high ground to stand on at the start of the game. Not only is Joseph guilty of the crime he is accused of, but he and his organization are guilty of so much more, and have been for years. These actions committed by Eden’s Gate violate numerous laws and are morally wrong, as they bring severe harm to others and/or forcibly remove another’s personal agency for the convenience of the cult. The Deputy uncovers all of this throughout the course of the game.

During the Reaping

Knowledge of Eden’s Gate’s past crimes would be reason enough to take down this cult, but the Deputy also sees the current horrors firsthand. During the Reaping, cultists kidnap, torture, mutilate, and murder numerous unwilling participants. They steal supplies and were willing to kidnap a beloved pet dog in order to perform experiments on him and turn the poor dog into a savage killer, after killing his owners. Defaced corpses are decorated and strung up as warnings. Some citizens of Hope County are fed to Judges, while others are turned into Angels or are forced to leap off a giant statue. If someone doesn’t convert to the religion of Eden’s Gate, then they are either tortured or drugged until they give in, or murdered.

The Deputy has zero incentive to walk away from this conflict. Why would they? As a deputy of Hope County, they have a moral and ethical obligation to protect the county’s citizens, and those citizens are under attack by Eden’s Gate. Eden’s Gate are the aggressors in this scenario. *They* are the ones who are kidnapping, murdering, torturing, and brainwashing the Hope County citizens. As far as the Deputy is aware at the beginning of the game, they are the only remaining police officer and only person in a position of authority to fight against the cult. It is their responsibility to fight against the people causing grievous harm to the county.

Throughout the game, the Deputy’s personal encounters with the heralds further reinforce the idea that Eden’s Gate is dangerous and beyond reason. While confessions can and should be voluntary, John does not approach it in that way. John kidnaps, terrorizes, and tortures the hardened Joey Hudson to the point of tears, and brings the Deputy to his torture dungeon where he once pried confessions under duress from prior individuals of the county. He kidnapped the Deputy in order to forcibly baptize them to the point where they might have drowned without Joseph’s interference, and captures them in order to make them confess, using the presence of Hudson as leverage (Hudson’s misery was also used as incentive on the video to draw the Deputy to the Holland region). He lures the Deputy to the church in the same way (by kidnapping their friends) and then permanently modifies their body against their will. Despite his proclaimed desire to have the Deputy atone, John also expresses desire to see the Deputy dead on occasion, such as after they destroy his sign.

While it might be easier for the player to sympathize with John due to his backstory and dynamic with Joseph, from the Deputy’s in-universe perspective, his instability represents a very real, tangible threat not only to them, but to the people of Hope County as a whole. At every turn, John has either imposed his will onto the Deputy by removing opportunities for agency and/or harming others. The Deputy owes John nothing. Any "choice" he gives of saying "Yes" is undermined by the massive amount of strings attached. It is difficult to envision a reason why the Deputy would decide to give into John’s philosophy, aside from faking it in order to protect their allies. This is a failing on John's part, not the Deputy.

Like John, Faith also expresses a desire for the Deputy to give in to Eden's Gate. But unlike John, she initially appears to the Deputy in a more pacifistic, less confrontational way. Despite this, the Deputy is still able to see her darker side due to her views on the Angels and fate of the unfortunate souls who walk the path whipping themselves and take a literal leap off of the statue of Joseph. Furthermore, she overrides the Deputy’s agency through the use of Bliss, which drastically warps one’s perception of reality. The Bliss that she now controls makes the horrific creation of Angels possible, and this Bliss is also used during baptisms, which muddles the issue of personal agency and consent to John’s process in addition to her own conversion process. The dangers of the Bliss and how it affects one’s thought process become highlighted in the Henbane region, and letters, voicemails, and NPC chatter show that Faith is not one to be trifled with. This comes to a head when Faith brainwashes the Sheriff and manipulates the Marshall into killing Virgil before killing himself. While it’s easy to have sympathy for Faith and her experiences, from the Deputy’s perspective, Faith is still a potential danger, which is why they step back when she leaned toward them during her death scene.

Jacob too removes the Deputy’s personal agency by literally brainwashing them and turning them into a tool that he can command, which eventually results in the Deputy being forced to kill a friend. He forced captives into competing against each other in life or death trials. He keeps the Deputy in a cage with a dead body and feeds them “mystery meat” after seven days of starving them while telling them a story about how he cannibalized his friend. The Judges are his brainchild that he sends to attack and kill others. Like John, Jacob also kidnapped and tortured a fellow police officer, to the point where they act like a slave to Jacob’s whims. Jacob has not done anything other than convincing the Deputy that he is a threat.

It is not the Deputy's job to fix the Seeds' personal issues--it's their job to protect Hope County. Throughout their journey, the Deputy sees various atrocities being committed, both to strangers and to themselves and the people they care about. There is zero reason for the Deputy to genuinely give in to the Seeds and join Eden's Gate, considering the horrible way they were treated and how they saw others being treated.

Joseph and the Voice

The Deputy’s presence did not *force* Eden’s Gate to start the Reaping. *Joseph* was the one to initiate it as a reaction to the Deputy’s presence, and all of Eden’s Gate followed him lockstep. When given the opportunity to finally confront and arrest the man responsible or walk away, it almost feels laughable that it’s even a choice at this point.

As leader of Eden’s Gate, Joseph oversees all parts of the Project. The buck stops with him. If he had any issues with Faith’s Angels, or Jacob’s trials, or John’s torture, he could have and would have said something--such as when he intervenes during the baptism--but he doesn’t. Because it furthers the goal of the Project, he doesn’t see any issue with these actions and feels they are justified.

Joseph’s vision of the Collapse coming true doesn’t mean that his actions throughout the game have greater inherent morality than the Deputy. It just means that he’s right about the Collapse. Regarding the Reaping, I do not believe that Joseph was motivated by a sense of cruelty, but that doesn’t change how many of the actions he participated in and oversaw *were* cruel. In real life, we see various examples of some people (not just in religious institutions, but in positions of authority in general) who commit harmful acts for the sake of a perceived “greater good.” And many of those people genuinely believe in what they are doing, believe they are in the right. But that doesn’t mean they actually are.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room: the Voice. If the Voice of God supports Joseph, then surely the deputy is automatically the “bad guy” for opposing him, right?

Wrong.

First, we have to be willing to admit that we know next to nothing about the Voice. The only things we know about it is what is conveyed to us by Joseph. We do not know the exact wording of what the Voice says, the level of detail it gives him regarding expectations (if any), or even what it is. Is it the voice of God? Satan? A real angel? Some kind of eldritch entity from another dimension? How accurate is Joseph's reiteration or interpretation? Sometimes it seems to directly tell Joseph things (hence the title, “the Voice”), other times it shows him visions. Clearly, there is some kind of supernatural component, as it allows Joseph to see the future, but since we don’t know much about it specifically, we can’t automatically assume or attribute inherent benevolence or morality to it.

Second, it’s entirely possible for a genuine prophet of God (assuming the Voice does indeed belong to a benevolent creator), or those who have/had God’s favor, to engage in morally questionable behavior, both in the eyes of God and/or in the eyes of 21st century readers. While the Project at Eden’s Gate is its own distinct religion, it takes most of its cues from Christianity, both in terms of practices and beliefs. In the Bible, King David had a man murdered so he could sleep with that man’s wife. Jonah wanted the entire population of a city to be killed off instead of having them repent. Jacob (the Biblical figure) deceives his father into giving him a birthright that belonged to his brother, and shows blatant favoritism to one son which ends up causing a lot of internal strife within the family. It’s fully within the realm of possibility that Joseph’s actions are not meant to be endorsed, either by the Voice itself or by the narrative in a broader sense.

In New Dawn, Joseph alludes to his own personal failings by saying, “My soul has become a cancer. I am a monster. I only spread suffering and death in the name of God.” The death of his son and the destruction of New Eden act as a moment of awakening for Joseph, as he finally realizes the harsh reality of his actions and how they affect others. He then expresses a desire for death and says, “There is only the justice of God’s hand.” The implication of “justice” being done indicates that the Voice (“God”) would not be happy with some of the actions that Joseph did. So while Joseph’s actions in FC5 were done with the intent of serving the Voice, his execution of these ideas was something that Joseph feels God would not like, as his actions spread death and suffering.

And thirdly, we have to remember that the Deputy and the player are viewing the idea of morality from the perspective of a 21st century human. Let’s say that, hypothetically, the Voice specifically instructed and condoned the erasure of free will/murders/kidnappings/etc. for whatever reason, and by enacting them, Joseph and Eden’s Gate were “just following orders.” Does this absolve Joseph and Eden's Gate of responsibility? No. Willing participation in the crimes committed, even if it wasn’t “their idea,” can still have legal consequences and can still be viewed as “bad” from a moral perspective because of the results of those actions.

The Collapse

It has been discussed elsewhere (on this site and in outside articles/discussions about the game) that the actions of the deputy correspond with the role of the Lamb in Revelations, and by breaking the seals, the Deputy’s actions supernaturally trigger the Collapse. This interpretation is fairly popular, and is one I personally support. However, I do not feel as though this interpretation lessens the morality of the Deputy's actions. Their decision to fight the Seeds is still the right one, regardless of whether or not their actions resulted in some kind of cosmic game of dominos.

First off, when the Deputy is attempting to take down the Seeds and protect the people of Hope County, they are not doing this with the intent of playing a role in a cosmic prophecy that will result in the death of millions. They’re looking at the situation from a human perspective, and acting accordingly and sensibly. The Seeds, on the other hand, were willingly harming innocents both before and during the Reaping.

Second, if there's a need to assign blame to a human for starting the Collapse (and I personally don't think there needs to be), it would be the Seeds, not the Deputy. The Sheriff and the deputies wouldn’t have arrived with the arrest warrant if the Seeds were not kidnapping and doing other illegal actions.

And thirdly, if one does attribute blame of the Collapse to the Deputy, then one also must attribute the birth of the new world to them as well. Following along with the idea that the events of FC5 are a fulfillment of Revelations, then the Collapse is ultimately viewed as a Good Thing within in the context of the Book of Revelations, even if the player might not personally share the sentiment. The Book of Revelations describes how the new world that is supposed to emerge from the ashes of the old is meant to be much better than the one before. And if we look at the world of New Dawn--and I’m going to copy and paste something I wrote previously here---Nature is allowed to flourish, people work together and support each other in a tight community, all the social ills mentioned in the Book of Joseph (and by the characters in-game) no longer exist. The only “snakes in the garden” would be the Highwaymen, and they are abolished by the Captain, who Joseph prophesizes to be some kind of Messiah-like figure. The final scene of New Dawn is one of hope, where the characters talk about building a better future. The way Joseph and Ethan’s storyline ends also connects to the whole idea of breaking away from the past and moving forward. If one believes that the Deputy is responsible for the Collapse, then this new world shown in New Dawn and the context of Revelations complicates the idea of viewing the Deputy's actions as being inherently bad.

Some might also argue that the Deputy has responsibility for not taking Joseph's warnings more seriously. Why though? Why should the Deputy attribute more credibility to Joseph's claims than, say, those of Marshall Applewhite or David Koresh? As players who know the ending, it’s easy for us to say that the Deputy should have listened to Joseph's warning about the Collapse, but there’s no in-universe rationale for the Deputy to do so. Issues of belief aside, Eden’s Gate’s actions alone are enough to paint an extremely negative picture of the group and would be enough to make any regular person not want to associate with them.

Under the framework of the Revelations prophecy being the intended interpretation of the game events though, I personally don't feel that any character "deserves" blame for the Collapse happening, not even the Seeds. I blame the Seeds for what they do to people within the game and before the events of FC5. And my perception of the Deputy is based on what we see in the game as well. But again, the Revelations prophecy idea is simply one way to view the game. Regardless of whether or not this interpretation is the correct one, the deputy still has the moral high ground in their fight against the Seeds.

Conclusion

Joseph being right about the Collapse does not mean that his (and by extension, Eden’s Gate’s) actions during FC5 were justified, and the Deputy should not be blamed for fighting against them. Just as the Deputy made a choice to arrest Joseph, Joseph made the choice to react in the worst way possible with the Reaping. Eden’s Gate were the aggressors who were kidnapping, torturing, and murdering people throughout the county. The Deputy fights against Eden’s Gate as a direct result of *Eden's Gate's* actions. The Deputy deserves no blame or guilt for killing the Seeds and destroying their bases of operations, as they reacted in a logical way based on the quality of information they had at the time.

In New Dawn, the Deputy expresses an extreme amount of guilt, which transforms them into the Judge. This guilt is misplaced and should be attributed to the other resident of the bunker, which is something Joseph himself even alludes to during his final speech in New Dawn when he criticizes his own actions. If Eden’s Gate did not start attacking the people of Hope County, the bunkers would still be standing, and the Seeds and many other cultists would still be alive. But they did, so they’re not.

While I adore all four of the Seeds as characters and have varying degrees of sympathy for them, they are firmly villains within the context of the story due to their actions. The deputy is not a bad guy for trying to stop them. The fact the Seeds sided with a guy who kidnapped and starved a family, then fed the parents' flesh to their children while playing “this little piggy” with the parents’ toes, and then murdered said parents in front of their children should speak for itself.

TL;DR: The deputy’s decision to confront Joseph instead of walking away was the right one.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed #john seed #the junior deputy #long post #tw: canon typical violence #far cry 5 meta #fc5 meta #far cry #i do love all these characters #just to be perfectly clear lol #far cry meta

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gwynsplainer · 4 years ago

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On The Grinning Man and the De-Politicization of L'Homme Qui Rit (a Spontaneous Essay)

Since I watched The Grinning Man I’ve been meaning to write a post comparing it to The Man Who Laughs but I have a lot of opinions and analysis I wanted to do so I have been putting it off for ages. So here goes! If I were to make a post where I explain everything the musical changes it would definitely go over the word limit, so I’ll mostly stick to the thematic. Let me know if that’s a post you’d like to see, though!

Ultimately, The Grinning Man isn’t really an adaptation of the Man Who Laughs. It keeps some of the major plot beats (a disfigured young man with a mysterious past raised by a man and his wolf to perform to make a living alongside the blind girl he rescued from the snow, restored to his aristocratic past by chance after their show is seen by Lord David and Duchess Josiana, and the interference of the scheming Barkilphedro…. well, that’s just about it). The problem I had with the show, however, wasn’t the plot points not syncing up, it was the thematic inconsistency with the book. By replacing the book’s antagonistic act—the existence of a privileged ruling class—with the actions of one or two individuals from the lower class, transforming the societal tragedy into a revenge plot, and reducing the pain of dehumanization and abuse to the pain of a physical wound, The Grinning Man is a sanitized, thematically weak failure to adapt The Man Who Laughs.

I think the main change is related to the reason I posit the book never made it in the English-speaking world. The musical was made in England, the setting of the book which was so critical of its monarchy, it’s aristocracy, and the failings of its society in ways that really haven’t been remedied so far. It might be a bit of a jump to assume this is connected, but I have evidence. They refer to it as a place somewhat like our own, but change King James to King Clarence, and Queen Anne to Angelica. Obviously, the events of the book are fictional, and it was a weird move for Hugo to implicate real historical figures as responsible for the torture of a child, but it clearly served a purpose in his political criticism that the creative team made a choice to erase. They didn’t just change the names, though, they replaced the responsibility completely. In the book, Gwynplaine’s disfigurement—I will be referring to him as Gwynplaine because I think the musical calling him Grinpayne was an incredibly stupid and cruel choice—was done to him very deliberately, with malice aforethought, at the order of the king. The king represents the oppression of the privileged, and having the fault be all Barkilphédro loses a lot thematically. The antagonism of the rich is replaced by the cruelty of an upwardly mobile poor man (Barkilphédro), and the complicity of another poor man.

The other “villain” of the original story is the way that Gwynplaine is treated. I think for 1869, this was a very ahead-of-its-time approach to disability, which almost resembles the contemporary understanding of the Social Model of disability. (Sidenote: I can’t argue on Déa’s behalf. Hugo really dropped the ball with her. I’m going to take a moment to shout out the musical for the strength and agency they gave Déa.) The way the public treats Gwynplaine was kind of absent from the show. I thought it was a very interesting and potentially good choice to have the audience enter the role of Gwynplaine’s audience (the first they see of him is onstage, performing as the Grinning Man) rather than the role of the reader (where we first see him as a child, fleeing a storm). If done right, this could have explored the story’s theme of our tendency to place our empathy on hold in order to be distracted and feel good, eventually returning to critique the audience’s complicity in Gwynplaine’s treatment. However, since Grinpayne’s suffering is primarily based in the angst caused by his missing past and the physical pain of his wound (long-healed into a network of scars in the book) [a quick side-note: I think it was refreshing to see chronic pain appear in media, you almost never see that, but I wish it wasn’t in place of the depth of the original story], the audience does not have to confront their role in his pain. They hardly play one. Instead, it is Barkilphédro, the singular villain, who is responsible for Grinpayne’s suffering. Absolving the audience and the systems of power which put us comfortably in our seats to watch the show of pain and misery by relegating responsibility to one character, the audience gets to go home feeling good.

If you want to stretch, the villain of the Grinning Man could be two people and not one. It doesn’t really matter, since it still comes back to individual fault, not even the individual fault of a person of high status, but one or two poor people. Musical!Ursus is an infinitely shittier person than his literary counterpart. In the book, Gwynplaine is still forced to perform spectacles that show off his appearance, but they’re a lot less personal and a lot less retraumatizing. In the musical, they randomly decided that not only would the role of the rich in the suffering of the poor be minimized, but also it would be poor people that hurt Grinpayne the most. Musical!Ursus idly allows a boy to be mutilated and then takes him in and forces him to perform a sanitized version of his own trauma while trying to convince him that he just needs to move on. In the book, he is much kinder. Their show, Chaos Vanquished, also allows him to show off as an acrobat and a singer, along with Déa, whose blindness isn’t exploited for the show at all. He performs because he needs to for them all to survive. He lives a complex life like real people do, of misery and joy. He’s not obsessed with “descanting on his own deformity” (dark shoutout to William Shakespeare for that little…infuriating line from Richard III), but rather thoughtfully aware of what it means. He deeply feels the reality of how he is seen and treated. Gwynplaine understands that he was hurt by the people who discarded him for looking different and for being poor, and he fucking goes off about it in the Parliament Confrontation scene (more to come on this). It is not a lesson he has to learn but a lesson he has to teach.

Grinpayne, on the other hand, spends his days in agony over his inability to recall who disfigured him, and his burning need to seek revenge. To me, this feels more than a little reminiscent of the trope of the Search for a Cure which is so pervasive in media portrayals of disability, in which disabled characters are able to think of nothing but how terribly wrong their lives went upon becoming disabled and plan out how they might rectify this. Grinpayne wants to avenge his mutilation. Gwynplaine wants to fix society. Sure, he decides to take the high road and not do this, and his learning is a valuable part of the musical’s story, but I think there’s something so awesome about how the book shows a disabled man who understands his life better than any abled mentor-philosophers who try to tell him how to feel. Nor is Gwynplaine fixed by Déa or vice versa, they merely find solace and strength in each other’s company and solidarity. The musical uses a lot of language about love making their bodies whole which feels off-base to me.

I must also note how deeply subversive the book was for making him actually happy: despite the pain he feels, he is able to enjoy his life in the company and solidarity he finds with Déa and takes pride in his ability to provide for her. The assumption that he should want to change his lot in life is not only directly addressed, but also stated outright as a failure of the audience: “You may think that had the offer been made to him to remove his deformity he would have grasped at it. Yet he would have refused it emphatically…Without his rictus… Déa would perhaps not have had bread every day”

He has a found family that he loves and that loves him. I thought having him come from a loving ~Noble~ family that meant more to him than Ursus did rather than having Ursus, a poor old man, be the most he had of a family in all his memory and having Déa end up being Ursus’ biological daughter really undercut the found family aspect of the book in a disappointing way.

Most important to me was the fundamental change that came from the removal of the Parliament Confrontation scene, on both the themes of the show and the character of Gwynplaine. When Gwyn’s heritage is revealed and his peerage is restored to him, he gets the opportunity to confront society’s problems in the House of Parliament. When Gwynplaine arrives in the House of Parliament, the Peers of England are voting on what inordinate sum to allow as income to the husband of the Queen. The Peers expect any patriotic member of their ranks to blithely agree to this vote: in essence, it is a courtesy. Having grown up in extreme poverty, Gwynplaine is outraged by the pettiness of this vote and votes no. The Peers, shocked by this transgression, allow him to take the stand and explain himself. In this scene, Gwynplaine brilliantly and profoundly confronts the evils of society. He shows the Peers their own shame, recounting how in his darkest times a “pauper nourished him” while a “king mutilated him.” Even though he says nothing remotely funny, he is received with howling laughter. This scene does a really good job framing disability as a problem of a corrupt, compassionless society rather than something wrong with the disabled individual (again, see the Social Model of disability, which is obviously flawed, but does a good job recognizing society that denies access, understanding and compassion—the kind not built on pity—as a central problem faced by disabled communities). It is the central moment of Hugo’s story thematically, which calls out the injustices in a system and forces the reader to reckon with it.

It is so radical and interesting and full that Gwynplaine is as brilliant and aware as he is. He sees himself as a part of a system of cruelty and seeks justice for it. He is an empathic, sharp-minded person who seeks to make things better not just for himself and his family, but for all who suffer as he did at the hands of Kings. Grinpayne’s rallying cry is “I will find and kill the man who crucified my face.” He later gets wise to the nature of life and abandons this, but in that he never actually gets to control his own relationship to his life. When I took a class about disability in the media one of the things that seemed to stand out to me most is that disabled people should be treated as the experts on their own experiences, which Gwynplaine is. Again, for a book written in 1869 that is radical. Grinpayne is soothed into understanding by the memory of his (rich) mother’s kindness.

I’ll give one more point of credit. I loved that there was a happy ending. But maybe that’s just me. The cast was stellar, and the puppetry was magnificent. I wanted to like the show so badly, but I just couldn’t get behind what it did to the story I loved.

#the grinning man #the man who laughs #tgm musical #l'homme qui rit #victor hugo #gwynplaine's parliament rambles #long post /

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mrepstein · 4 years ago

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The Beatles Book Monthly (No. 5, December 1963)

‘A TALE OF FOUR BEATLES’ by Billy Shepherd

PART IV (PART I // PART II // PART III)

Part IV opens in June, 1961 and charts Brian Epstein's early involvement with the Beatles.

And so the Beatles, with two experience-garnering trips to Germany behind them, got back to Liverpool. A swingin’ scene... and they were very much a part of it. It was the end of June, 1961.

But though they liked having more money to spend, they hadn’t the foggiest idea of just how much they were worth. The offers came in. Anything between £6 and £14 was the pay-packet, to be shared between Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and drummer Pete Best.

“We just didn’t know,” admits George. “We loved the work, the excitement. We didn’t realise we were often being exploited. But it was hard work and somehow we didn’t seem to have much money in the kitty after we’d kept our equipment up to scratch...”

July, 1961, could go down as a summit meeting in Merseybeat history. A steamy, summery, shimmery night at Litherland Town Hall. A young promoter named Brian Kelly announced his attraction: The Beatmakers.

George Harrison was on lead guitar. Paul McCartney on rhythm. John Lennon on piano. Drummers were Pete Best and Freddie Marsden. Les Maguire operated on saxophone, Les Chadwick on bass guitar - and Gerry Marsden nipped on and off behind a big grin to take the vocals.

Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Beatles had linked up. For one night only and for a fee which is the smallest fraction of what they’d command for such a show now.

It led to friendships between the group members... but it didn’t seem to be leading to that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for the Beatles.

Says John: “We went on knocking ourselves out night after night but somehow there was a bit of frustration creeping in to it all. It didn’t seem to be leading anywhere.”

But the audiences were greatly appreciative.

Says Paul: “We started accepting dates further south. We got pretty near London on some of them. No change of material for us - still the stuff that went down so well in Germany. But we were veering away from the leather gear. Don’t make this sound big-headed, but the fact is that a lot of other groups were copying the way we looked on stage. So we changed to more ordinary clothes for a while.”

But in September, depression set in. Paul and John took themselves off to Paris for a holiday. They remember being flat broke. Remember having to search through every pocket to rake up enough francs for a Coke. Now, of course, they can go where they please and not count the cost.

And George and Pete stayed on in Liverpool, virtually lost to the Beat scene. Ray McFall, owner of the Cavern Club remembers seeing Messrs. Harrison and Best around the lunch-time sessions but they seemed dispirited. They took a lot of persuading even to join in on the impromptu roar-ups.

Let well-known Liverpool show compere Bob Wooler fill in the background to this black spot in the Beatles’ history.

“I’ve known the boys since the early days. I’ve been a long-time admirer. What they really needed was a manager in those far-off days. They seemed content not to argue about the fees they were offered. And they didn’t seem to realise that they were pulling in crowds on the strength of their own name and performance.

“After all, they had to live. They had to look after their equipment - and they often had travelling expenses to pay. It’s all very well being popular and enjoying your work, but you should be paid what you’re worth as well.

“Ray McFall at the Cavern was different. If the crowd was good, he upped the fee. That’s why the boys have always been so loyal to the Cavern. But you can understand them being puzzled at the lack of hard cash from their other venues where they were so often doubling the attendances.”

Paul and John were meanwhile spending a lot of time on their song-writing. You’ll see how much they’d already achieved in this direction as the story pushes on to the first recording days.

John and Paul could never sit down and simply write a song to order. They admit: “We have to wait for the ideas to arrive. It can happen anywhere. On a bus, or a train, or backstage at a dance-hall or theatre. Sometimes the title suggests itself first. Then we get going on the words and music. Sometimes we’ve finished a very successful seller in less than an hour.”

But their most pressing need was for a manager. Paul has told me “When we first started on paid jobs, we honestly thought we weren’t manageable. We thought nobody would want to bother with us. We were a pretty off-beat bunch of characters, to say the least. And we had a sense of humour which somehow involved us all and which was hardly in the interests of discipline. So, for a long time, we just didn’t take any notice of the advice that we should be properly handled. ‘Who’d WANT US,’ was the way we thought...

“And that’s where we were wrong...”

A MANAGER. Liverpool man Allan Williams took on the chore for a while... he now runs the Blue Angel Club on Merseyside.

But the man who was to make show business history with the Beatles knew nothing about the group in that September of 1961. That man, of course, was Brian Epstein, one-time drama student, member of a family which owned a chain of furniture and radio-TV stores in Liverpool.

He was not exactly WITH the beat scene. But he WAS in touch with the public taste through his work in the record department of the stores. He’d been there for five years, building up the business, enlarging the staff roster and increasing the turnover.

And in September, 1961, he was a puzzled man. Fans kept approaching him with: “Have you any records by the Beatles?” Brian mused. Pondered. Wondered. One young lad was particularly persistent in his demands. Brian dug deep into the record-lists. And found reference to that “My Bonnie” single, recorded in Germany, on which the Beatles played a strictly supporting role to guitar-star Tony Sheridan.

“I became Beatle-conscious for a while,” he says. “I always tried to work on the theory that the customer was right - and if they wanted the Beatles, well... I’d do my best to supply the Beatles. Eventually I traced the source and ordered some 200 copies for the record-stores. They sold quickly...

“Then out of the blue I heard they were Liverpool boys, had a rapidly-growing following - and were actually playing in a club near the store. It was a place that I’m sure I’d visited before, a sort of teenage gathering-place, but I really didn’t know much about it.

“After a while, I thought I’d better pop down there and see what all the fuss was about.”

Brian Epstein went to the Cavern. Met the Beatles. And things really started happening for the ambitious but not-too-sure group.

There are two ways of looking at this near-historic meeting. Brian Epstein’s. And the Beatles’ viewpoint.

Beatles first. Said George: “He started talking to us about the record that had created the demand. We didn’t know much about him but he seemed very interested in us and also a little bit baffled.

“He came back several times and talked to us. It seemed there was something he wanted to say, but he wouldn’t come out with it. He just kind of watched us and studied what we were doing. One day, he took us to the store and introduced us. We thought he looked rather red and embarrassed about it all.

“Eventually, he started talking about becoming our manager. Well, we hadn’t really had anybody actually VOLUNTEER in that sense. At the same time, he was very honest about it all - you know, like saying he didn’t really know anything about managing a group like us. He sort of hinted that he was keen if we’d go along with him...”

Brian, quite honestly, thought that the Beatles looked a mess. He wondered what exactly they thought they were trying to be. Their strange jackets, the rather scruffy jeans, the hair-styles, which could only have been styled on something called “chaos.”

“But there was something enormously attractive about them,” he recalls. “I liked the way they worked and the obvious enthusiasm they put into their numbers. People talk about the Liverpool sound but I sometimes wonder what exactly they mean. These boys put everything into their routines but they didn’t use echo. That struck me as being a very good thing.

“It was the boys themselves, though, who really swung it. Each had something which I could see would be highly commercial if only someone could push it to the top. They were DIFFERENT characters but they were so obviously part of the whole. Quite frankly, I was excited about their prospects, provided some things could be changed.”

And Brian told his friends: “This could easily turn out to be the biggest show business attraction since Elvis Presley.” It’s a tribute to his foresight and intuition that that is precisely what has happened.

Brian decided to get the boys together at a round-table conference at his store. A time was fixed and the boys agreed. But Beatles are not always the easiest of people to organise. Brian sat waiting... and waiting... and waiting. He was trying to cope with the vastly complex figures of Christmas orders for the store and minutes were precious to him.

Eventually THREE Beatles arrived. George, John and Pete. No Paul. Story goes that Brian got George to ring through and see what had happened to the left-handed guitar-star. And that Paul admitted he was still in the bath... but wouldn’t be long!

Brian was rather on his high-horse. He felt it was not the right thing for someone who wanted to talk business to be kept waiting. He pointed out that Paul, the cherubic one of the four, would be extremely late. “Yes,” said George, forcing back a grin. “But he’ll also be extremely clean.”

Says Brian: “That sense of humour is invaluable. You could hardly feel annoyed at their lack of business ability. They were just four individual and off-beat characters.”

Prior to Brian taking such an interest, there was great concern among Cavern people that there was a chance of the Beatles packing in all thoughts of show business careers. Bob Wooler had tried hard to get BBC television producer Jack Good interested in the group. Jack had produced beat shows, like “Six-Five Special” which had been the stepping-stone to success for artistes like Cliff Richard. But Jack was also in demand in the States... and he’d gone there to further his own career long before Bob could get any decision from the telly-folk.

Brian, having eventually assembled all four Beatles in the same room, put his propositions to them. He went through a process of brain-washing, though he did it all very tactfully. He didn’t like their manner of dress. Wasn’t knocked out by the unruly hair-cuts. Was singularly unimpressed by the way they casually drank tea on stage while in the middle of shows.

He pleaded with them rather than ordered them. He knew they were a valuable property and he was knocked out at the way their personal following was growing through the Merseyside area.

Said John: “He’d tell us that jeans were not particularity smart and could we possibly manage to wear PROPER trousers. But he didn’t want us suddenly looking square. He let us have our own sense of individuality.”

He added: “We respected his views. We stopped champing at cheese rolls and jam butties on stage. We paid a lot more attention to what we were doing. Did our best to be on time. And we smartened up, in the sense that we wore suits instead of any sloppy old clothes.”

It was a master-plan. A long-term plan if necessary but it was aimed at making the most of four young men who clearly had that star quality in them... even though a recording contract was still more than nine months away.

Obviously, Brian Epstein’s main job was to get the group on record. He knew the strength of their popularity in Liverpool and he felt it wouldn’t be a hard job to interest some of the London companies. But that was where Brian was wrong.

He even delayed any sort of action until the results of the 1961 “Mersey Beat Poll” were announced. That came up at the end of the year. And the Beatles were high and dry in top place in this important survey of how the public felt about the myriad groups operating in the scene. Said Brian: “I thought this was the ‘Open Sesame’ to the recording scene. I felt that Liverpool was important enough to have London executives falling about to sign the boys. I was wrong...”

Brian, though technically still in charge of important parts of the family business, threw himself into the job of getting the Beatles known nationally. He had the backing of the Beatles’ parents and it was to be no holds barred for the major break through.

He started visiting London. Hopefully. Optimistically. But record executives showed an alarming tendency to register non-committal gloom. Brian had to keep reporting apparent failure to the boys - by now riding higher than ever in popular acclaim in Liverpool.

Cont’d next month in No. 6

#Brian Epstein #The Beatles #Beatles Book Monthly #1963 #60s #Billy Shepherd

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vvanite · 4 years ago

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Art Deco and TAZ Graduation

- Episode 30 "Take your Firbolg to Work Day

I know Travis probably made his choice to have the H.O.G. headquarters be designed with Art Deco for aesthetic purposes and didn't think of its function to the world of Nua BUT his choice is a really great accidental component that adds onto the world building in Nua and to one of the core problems that Graduation addresses involving the systemic nature of Nua. In this essay, I-

(And then I proceed to actually write the essay hidden below. FAIR WARNING: This is extremely long. If you want to learn about Modern Art History and how it ties into Graduation, this is your lucky day.)

This analysis/essay is going to be meta in terms of using evidence from real world events but it is needed to explain the history behind Art Deco and help us relate to the themes of Graduation. I think it’s clear to see how the systems and people in power in Graduation are influenced from the way our governments are now so I don’t think these connections are distant, rather closer together than we think.

Also, before we continue, I want to direct you to this lovely post made by a dear user and friend, Michelle/ fitzroythecreator, LINK HERE

She explains what she believes to be a core theme of graduation that I agree with and have integrated into this essay. Check it out <3

Before I can explain how Art Deco is tied into Graduation's core theme, I need to lay out definitions and context to art movements in the early 20th century. Along the way, I will make connections to the world of Nua and how real-life events in the early 20th century actually can relate to Graduation and its worldbuilding.

Let’s address what is Art Deco. Art Deco started as an art and architecture movement during the early 20th century (1900s). Most people are familiar with its aesthetics of geometric designs and influence of industrialization because of the roaring 20s era and many media influenced by it. Do you wonder why it was popularized in the US? It’s because during the great depression in the US, public buildings, more importantly federal government buildings, were commissioned to have this aesthetic thus it would have more publicity and access to the public. The H.O.G. headquarters could easily be compared to this event because it shares similar attributes of being a public government building.

With this information, it would be really interesting to imagine the timing of Graduation being set around the early 20th century. Art Deco gives us a time period to compare what kind of social events Nua could have faced similar to the real world. The modern period of the 1850s-1950s was a time when people were disinterested and scared of the changes that industrialism made in their daily lives. People were frustrated with the changes made in their lives and sought out ways to cope with the changes through escapism. In Graduation, I would argue that we see this skepticism and wariness in the characters about the changes Nua’s Socioeconomic systems made in their lives and society in general. A good example would be the student NPCs and their insistence that their hero and villain titles are just labels since they have been stripped from their original meanings. They still somewhat criticize the structure while upholding it. As the campaign progresses, we meet various characters who are very critical to Nua’s current orderly system such as Order and Gordie. In fact, despite their roles in society being vastly different, they both share the same opinions that the system is unjust as it hurts people thus there needs to be a push for change. I am not trying to label the time of Graduation to be around the 1900s, rather whatever year Graduation happens is in parallel to the events of the 1900s.

When I first heard Travis say, Art Deco, I was interested but disappointed it wasn’t Art Nouveau. My original thinking was because of Art Nouveau’s elitism of making the architecture more artistic and complex that only educated rich people can understand and less functional for the average citizen. A lot of the art displays during the art movement were held in house museums that were limited to rich eyes. I thought this reasoning made sense in terms of the H.O.G. headquarters being this elite building common people can’t comprehend. However, with continuous thought, it clicked. Art Deco fits so well.

Art Deco was meant to be a direct response to Art Nouveau and the Arts and Crafts movement. (And many more but for the sake of simplicity, sticking to these two major ones) Both movements share similarities of the desire to make total works of art.

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For art Nouveau in architecture, that is more on its aesthetics of stylized curving forms, thus it creates uniqueness with the architecture. For the Arts and Crafts movement in Europe, they focused on the importance of the craftsmanship and quality. The thing about the movement is that it’s heavily influenced by socialist values and the distaste for industrialism. Both art movements were diverse in style and locations globally. Because both took place internationally, there was no determined manifesto or structures for artists to adhere to. Another thing is both movements had lots of ornamentation which takes great skill and time to put into the works. By doing this, it would make the works more unique aspects to its character, however more time consuming and difficult to replicate.

Art Deco takes response to this because critics felt like these movements were outdated for the growing industrialism happening during the early 20th century. Art Deco focuses on sleek geometric design meant to be reproduced easily thanks to industries and have more emphasis on its function rather than aesthetics. It’s meant to be functional to accommodate for the new technologies of the 20th century.

So, let’s recap, in the late 19th century, two movements, focused on the style which had no concrete structures to adhere to and had the goal to make total works of art that is reliant on itself, are then replaced by Art Deco, a movement focused on its aesthetic to be mass produced easily and have a stronger focus on the form of the architecture to serve its functions. Does Art Deco sound similar to a number of Socioeconomic systems placed in Nua?

One of the key ideals of Art Deco is Functionalism. Art Deco is one of the many architectural movements in the early 20th century that decided to focus on function rather than aesthetics. What is functionalism? It is the idea that everything works as an integrated whole and that all the different components of a larger system are designed to work together. It is orderly. Architecture in the early 20th century was designed to suit the needs of the space. For example, each element of an office buildings would be designed and organized to suit that place. This ideal is more emphasized after the Great Depression in America where architects shifted their focus on the Streamline Moderne, where they aimed to make structures practical to the demands of real life and remove the emotional aspects of expressionist art.

Travis’s little choice to pick Art Deco is tied to a core theme of Graduation of dismantling the standards and structures set in Nua. It’s so brilliant yet unintentional. I know Travis hasn’t read up on modern art history. I hope by reading through, you can spot Art Deco’s need for creating limitation to focus on the functions and how it benefits the whole system. It doesn’t allow for the emotional aspects that Art Nouveau and the Art and Crafts movements held. Nua’s system follow the same thing. Everyone has a function in the socioeconomic system that has limitations meant to exploit the work labor and functions of the individual. The system leaves no room for indivduals to have growth to create real change. That’s not a flaw of the system. The system is literally designed to be that way with its many rules and standards. It's impossible to break away from it without being punished by the system itself. You need to function within its rules and have practical skills to contribute to the system. Your independent nature is stripped away. By having Art Deco be a core aesthetic design for the H.O.G. Headquarters, Art Deco ITSELF is just another element in the architecture meant to serve its function of upholding the ideology of order that H.O.G. and the world of Nua has. This orderly system has replaced the wild world that Higglemas in episode 12 remembers.

“I remember... the world when it was wild. Not sophisticated and ordered and... bureaucratic, like it is now.”

#taz graduation #taz grad #taz analysis #taz meta #vanitewrites #this is the art major part of me screaming out #modern art history is so interesting and fits so well into the history of Nua #Travis is not smart enough to think this deep for the aesthetics of the hog building #BIG THANKS TO MICHELLE #i still think about that post you made on the self reliance theme

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supernovaken · 4 years ago

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Why Kid is Luffy’s Only Rival

Been thinking about this one for a while now. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid, one of the main players of the worst generation and top dog of the ‘Victoria Punk’ pirate ship. Calling Kid the top dog seems extremely redundant but when your nickname is ‘Captain’ what the heck is a blog to do.

His introduction to the story is as a brash, easily triggered and quick tempered super rookie designed as a direct rival to our very own Straw-Hat Luffy. Kid and the other Supernova Captains were slipped into the story as equals to our rubbery protagonist with their entry and journey through the first half of the Grand Line being described as the catalyst to ushering in the next generations of Pirates.

Reading the manga however, that high admiration for Kid has been somewhat shit on quelled. Nothing against Kid but there is no one, absolutely no one that can compare to The Future King of the Pirates.

So what is it about Kid that’s so good, what separates him from the other (less spectacular) supernova. And I really am including Law in that list of unimpressive pirates - I mean sad backstories are everything in One Piece but Trafalgar Law is just as ineffective in the world as the other members of the supernova. His feats and accolades are great to read about but in the grand scheme of things he’s very meh. A post time skip inclusion to the Straw Hats dynamic with all the underwhelming presence of Princess Vivi.

But this is a Kid fan post so the less said about Law the better, maybe i’ll give him his very own post next.

Let’s talk about Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid

We seem to know both a lot and nothing at all about this reckless member of the worst generation. His brash and battle scarred appearance, his vicious personality as a pirate contrast with his unshakable love for his crew comparable to Roger himself. (They both get very triggered if someone were to speak badly about their crews).

Beyond his pending backstory (which will no doubt be sad as all heck, invoking all of the feels), one of the more compelling unknowns around Kid is his introductory bounty when we met him at the Sabaody Archipelago. The contentious figure of 315,000,000 Berri had us questioning how he managed to outdo the protagonist we had been following since the East Blue.

The quick and easy answer - he caused a huge number of civilian casualties along the way

BORING!! #SnoozeAlert.

The long answer - and some might say more fun. Figuring out where this number for his bounty came from, what kind of feats and activities could he possibly have done on his journey to the Grand Lines half way point. Comparing Luffy’s journey and coming up with theories on what Kid could have done similarly is our best bet and should make understanding why Kid is the indisputable mirror and number one rival to our favourite Monkey boy pirate. (Discounting Blackbeard of course)

So how do we do that lol...

Not the easiest job to take on considering we have no idea how bounties are decided in the One Piece world, we can only speculate based on the small details we do know and track back against the Straw Hats who we have seen in action, receiving their very own dead or alive posters. I’ll be going through mostly everything we know up to the story’s half-way point pre-timeskip, unless something relevant crops up from the New World, but from my take it gets a lot more difficult to make assumptions after that point.

Where to begin? The beginning of course…

It's amazing how often Oda has to remind us bounty values are not a reflection of a pirates strength but a reflection of their threat level at the time of issue. And this distinction becomes extremely important in trying to figure out what Kid did. What threatening actions could he have done, when would he have done it and who precisely is he a threat to.

“On the Blue Sea below, there are a class of people called "pirates"... they are criminals who sail the seas in search of plunder. These people fly a black flag with a skull atop their ship's mast. ”— Gan Fall

The moment a person raises that black flag marked with a skull and crossbones as their symbol, they are immediately declaring themselves to be enemies of the state. Outlaws that choose to ignore the rules of the land, instead living out at sea and taking from the land what they want. Pirates!!

By becoming a pirate you are officially waging war on the government - The World Government (WG) and by extension its sea based military unit - The Marines. Clearly this is the ‘who’ when the question of threatening behaviour is raised. As simple as it sounds, it really does tell us quite a bit when inferring the actions and reasoning behind Kids bounty.

Kid has done something that has directly threatened the WG

But what about that old, boring line on ‘causing civilian casualties’... How much weight does that truly hold in determining your threat level.

I’d like to argue that in the world of One Piece, this sort of action, in actuality, holds little to no meaning. From Buggy destroying Orange Town, Krieg bombarding a Baratie filled with civilian customers and Arlongs ten year stint of villainy in Kokoyashi, the East Blue Saga is littered with examples of high civilian casualties yet we see no consequence come of it in the form of newly raised bounty figures. The obvious conclusion would be that attacking civilians is not enough to get a bounty figure raised and if raised it won’t be by much, this does also pose new questions. Is it enough to get a new bounty issued? And does the lack of Marine presence affect the disclosure of a pirate's actions? In the first two cases the Marines weren’t even around, hard to believe those actions wouldn’t have been reported to them though, and in the last case the only Marine directly involved was unsympathetically corrupt to the bone.

Now I can’t ignore the involvement of a certain Monkey D Luffy in these incidents. His defeat of the pirates meant that although they were still on the run from the Marines (barring Arlong), they were now a non factor as a more noteworthy individual has somehow come out of nowhere and defeated 3 of the most prominent East Blue Captains and crews (4 but Kuro was dead to them). This collective feat is what earned Luffy the top East Blue bounty of 30M Berri.

Expanding a little on the importance of Marine presence. At each point Luffy’s bounty is increased it has been the direct result of him acting against a representative of the Government - publicly.

First bounty of 30M Berri issued after the defeat of Arlong. It was the action against Marine Captain Nezumi of the 16th Branch in the East Blue which prompted him to personally request a bounty for the Captain of the pirate crew that defeated and humiliated him. Luffy’s feats before this may have been used as justification for the value, but no wanted poster would exist without this Marine present.

Second bounty of 100M Berri issued after the defeat of Ōka Shichibukai Sir Crocodile. Public awareness of Crocodile's defeat was inevitable due to his instigation of a coup against the established monarchy of a member nation of the World Government - The Nefertari Family. Although in the media Luffy’s involvement was suppressed, the WG couldn’t ignore the unprecedented issue they now had at his hands with a Warlords defeat and arrest. So Luffy’s threat level automatically went up, more than tripling.

Third bounty of 300M Berri issued after the infiltration, destruction and escape of the WG judiciary island Enies Lobby. Directly opposing the WG and causing multiple casualties amongst the marines and world government officials (not as significant as civilians?), declaring war on the WG by burning the flag that represents the entity, defeating one of their greatest assets, Rob Lucci and the CP9 as well as being the scapegoat for the annihilation of the island under the unstoppable force of the Buster Call and escaping with the Devils Child Nico Robin in the midst of it.

We mustn’t forget that afterwards Luffy defeated Ōka Shichibukai Geko Moria on the isolated island-ship of Thriller Bark. The only WG presence was through Kuma’s arrival allowing for a full suppression of the incident, Moria keeping his position with Kuma given orders to take the head of the Straw-Hat Captain. He then infiltrated two more Government facilities, causing the greatest unprecedented breakout in history with multiple pirates in tow at Impel Down, and greatly impacting the Paramount War fought at Marine HQ while facilitating the release and potential escape of Portgas D Ace and the Whitebeard Pirates. The culmination of this led to his final pre-timeskip bounty increase to 400M Berri.

At this point there are three things that stand out when it comes to Luffy’s high value bounty increases:

A direct and public action must be taken against the Marines and WG

The large scale of some the incidents have proven too difficult to fully suppress

Strangely casualties amongst government officials hold less weight than civilian casualties.

So how does this apply to Kid. How can we use this to decipher the actions and merits behind his introductory bounty.

Well, I believe that to reach the bounty level of 315M Berri Kid must have accomplished feats near to equal that of Monkey D Luffy. How can that be when all of Luffy’s feats are first in their nature, unprecedented events. My argument though is that if we apply the nearest reasonable equivalent, could we get more of an understanding of Kids exploits.

What can be equivalent to the defeat of one, if not two, Ōka Shichibukai. What compares to the breach of a Marine and Government inhabited island. Direct, public, sizable, irrepressible and includes civilians....

The long awaited, highly drawn out conclusion - A Marine Base

Specifically a large Marine Base located in the GrandLine Paradise and under the command of a Vice Admiral, littered with the presence of marine officials and their civilian families.

Vice Admirals no doubt must be seen as equals in strength, intimidation (via rank) and authority level amongst the everyday civilians as each of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. The admiration Crocodile received from the people of Alabasta in thanks to his title cannot be compared to the much less acknowledged presence of, Captain at the time, Smoker when he was on the island. The reactive fear most pirates display at the sheer mention of a Warlord being in the area emulates that of a Vice Admiral beyond any reaction a lower ranked official may create.

*Potential Spoiler if not caught up with Episode 957 of the Anime*

Upon the abolishment of the Warlord system we are shown multiple warships on approach to each of the Shichibukai, assumedly all led by at least one Vice Admiral ranked Marine officer based on the presence of Vice Admiral Stainless addressing Buggy The Clown. It’s clear from this scene along with the ones depicting Boa Hancock and Dracule Mihawk, that the Marines acknowledge how formidable the Warlords are and how much of their own military might is required to apprehend each. Although we don’t yet know the outcome we can infer the comparability between the Ōka Shichibukai and the Vice Admirals of the Marines.

Kid definitely proved his capability and threat level by, at the very least, bringing down one of the GrandLine Marine Bases on his chosen route towards Sabaody Archipelago. And I can tell you for free that he is the only member of the Supernova (outside of Luffy) that is capable of doing this. Oda has shown us that not one of the other Supernovas compare in a level of reckless behaviour to Luffy with each of them finding a way to survive and slowly build up their presence in the New World. Law directly requested to become a Shichibukai to aid freer movement, Capone submitted(even though temporarily) to becoming a subordinate of the Big Mom Pirates, the others we know attempting to form alliances for a more promising chance to survive against the Emperors. Only Luffy and Kid have shown enough will to directly oppose all powers that threatened them no matter how overwhelming the odds seemed.

So that's it, a very long winded theory haphazardly put together as to how Eustass Kid achieved a comparable and slightly higher bounty of 315M Berri to our Luffy’s 300M at the time, and strongest reasoning for why Kid is Luffy’s only rival.

Who knows, may one day attempt to put some fanfiction together around this theory, potentially using G4 since we know the least about it and it must exist in the canon storyline.

#eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid #trafalgar law #one piece #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #supernova #shichibukai #crocodile #sir crocodile #doflamingo family #boa hancock #buggy the clown #gecko moria #bartholomew kuma #dracule mihawk #world government #one piece marines #smoker

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

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Traps and Sneaks: Chapter 2 (of 2)

As the Guardian, it’s Marinette’s job to protect the Miracle Box and all of the Miraculous inside of it from evil. Obviously just sticking it away somewhere hidden isn’t going to cut it, so Marinette makes a box to hide it in. A booby-trapped box. A very dangerous booby-trapped box.

And if a certain someone gets their thieving little fingers caught in it, so be it.

links in the reblog

Lila sniggered to herself as she snuck up the stairs in the Dupain-Cheng bakery, unnoticed and unhindered.

Really, it had been way too easy to get in. All it had taken was feeding Alya a lie about how she had lent Marinette something to help her finish with their most recent Literature project but hadn't gotten it back, and she was worried about approaching Marinette to ask for it because, well, Marinette had been so busy recently that she probably thought that she had returned it. Lila was worried about appearing like she was accusing Marinette of stealing it if she asked about it, and they were only just starting to fix their relationship after getting off on the wrong foot. Alya had swallowed the lie like it was the most believable thing in the world, clearly thrilled that Lila and Marinette might be on the road to reconciliation, and from there all Lila had needed to do was suggest that maybe it would be easier for her to just fetch her things herself than it would be to ask Marinette.

Alya had been too eager to help, going into the bakery herself and getting permission from Mrs. Cheng to go in. Then she had let Lila in the side door- "I can't possibly go through the bakery myself, what if they recognize me and blame me for the time when Marinette got expelled and don't let me in!" Lila had exclaimed when Alya suggested that she just go in through the front herself- and made sure that she knew the way up before leaving. There had been a dicey moment when Alya moved to come up with Lila and help look, but Lila had waved her off with another excuse, insisting that she didn't want to eat up more of Alya's free time, especially when she knew that Alya and Nino had been thinking of going out for ice cream.

Alya had left, Marinette's parents would be busy in the bakery for hours, and Marinette herself was across the city at some sewing techniques workshop that she had won a full-ride scholarship for and hadn't shut up about all week. There would be no one to catch Lila and plenty of time for her to investigate Marinette's room and find- well, anything she could use against her.

A diary with embarrassing secrets, perfect for blackmail. Money, perfect for- well, money was always a good thing, and so was jewelry that she could pawn. Photos, also for blackmail. Sketches of designs for any other contests Marinette might have her eyes on, to copy and claim that Marinette had taken Lila's ideas. Maybe in-progress commissions that Lila could mess up, all the better to put a dent in Marinette's reputation if the damage wasn't found before she sent the pieces off to whoever had bought them.

One last flight of stairs, and Lila pushed open the door to the Dupain-Cheng apartment. Another set of stairs led up to a trapdoor that Lila could recognize as Marinette's (thanks to Alya's instructions), and she scampered up the steps and into the obnoxiously pink room at the top of the stairs.

The first thing she noticed: it was neat, unlike what Alya had warned her. There wasn't fabric draped all over the place or notebooks left out. On one hand, that would make things more difficult because she would have to search to find anything interesting, and unless Lila wanted to raise suspicion right away, she would have to put away anything she took out. On the other hand, well, it would probably be easier to find some things if she didn't have to dig through piles of fabric scraps or whatever it was that Marinette apparently usually had scattered around her room.

"Okay, first impressions," Lila said out loud as she glanced around. Marinette's school bag was by her desk- maybe she could tear out a couple pages of notes, so Marinette wouldn't have them to study from on the next exam. Next to the desk was a mannequin with what looked like a fairly complete outfit on it, leather pants with a lot of detail work and a matching jacket. Lila fingered the material, glancing at the seams on it. Since the piece was complete- or at least it looked complete- Marinette probably wouldn't look at it too closely before sending it off to its recipient. The recipient who, if the size of the pieces and the look of them was any indication, was probably Jagged Stone.

If she could mess with Jagged Stone's perception of Marinette and maybe mess up their working relationship, that would be perfect. Then he wouldn't feel inclined to do Marinette any favors like, say, coming in to call Lila out on her stories.

Lila decided that she would look for a seam ripper later, when she was poking around the desk. There was no point in stopping her assessment of Marinette's room now for that. After all, she had plenty of time.

The desk was otherwise pretty clear of anything interesting, though Lila was sure that she would dig through it later if she had time. The boxes on it probably just had sewing stuff anyway, and that- well, mixing it up or taking things might annoy Marinette, but she probably wouldn't think that much of it.

Across the room, though- well, there was a storage chest doubling as a bench, and Lila would be very surprised if there wasn't anything interesting in there. There might be a lock to deal with, but she had expected that and brought along her lock picking kit along. A few pokes and she would be in, ready to find out any secrets that Marinette might prefer stay hidden.

"Why couldn't she leave her diary on her desk like a normal person," Lila grumbled anyway, because it was also very possible that she would unlock the chest and find...nothing. Maybe Marinette didn't have any juicy secrets for Lila to exploit, and this whole trip would be- well, not for nothing, because she was still fully intending on causing ill-intentioned chaos, but not nearly as productive as she had hoped.

And considering that Lila was running quite a large risk with her lies to Alya about the thing she had 'loaned' to Marinette, a large payoff would be really preferred.

After a few more minutes of poking around- Marinette didn't keep a diary up near her bed, either, or any jewelry of any value, not that that stopped Lila from pocketing a few exotic-looking necklaces that she could always claim were gifts from people that she met around the globe- Lila turned her attention back to the large storage chest. The lock gave after a minute of working on it, and she flipped the lid eagerly, hoping that- well, hoping that there would be something interesting inside. Instead, she came face-to-face with...presents.

Boring. Knowing Marinette, they were probably all homemade and not worth anything.

Lila scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the pile of gifts. There was nothing interesting about Marinette being so disgustingly organized that she had gifts for her friends prepared well ahead of the holidays and their birthdays. She shoved a couple of the presents to the side, her nose wrinkling further at the next row of equally neatly-wrapped presents underneath.

Except... they were all labeled as being for Adrien.

Lila's eyebrows raised as she glanced at the top row of presents and- yep, all for Adrien. On closer inspection, all of them had little post-its on them with what event- and what year- they were meant to be for.

She sniggered. Marinette was a little obsessed, wasn't she? But as interesting as this was, it wasn't exactly something that she could easily use as blackmail. A bit disappointed, Lila kept digging, shifting packages aside. One more layer, and her fingers brushed against a dark wooden box, one that looked like perhaps Marinette had put it together herself.

It was exactly the sort of thing that a girl like Marinette- someone annoyingly craftsy- would store her diary in. Jackpot.

Smirking, Lila pulled the box out and considered it, her smile dropping as she did. Really, upon second glance, it was surprisingly sloppy, with uneven, dripping varnish and wonky nails. It was ridiculously heavy, even for its size, and especially considering that it was clearly made out of some cheap plywood. And oddly enough, it had two locks on it.

Frankly, the locks were the only reason why she didn't immediately lose interest. If they hadn't been there, Lila probably would have assumed that it was actually a failed project that Marinette was trying to hide.

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which lock to try," Lila scoffed, setting the box on the floor in front of her and settling down more comfortably to work on it. "That second keyhole isn't even in the right spot!"

Really, had badly had Marinette messed up that she had managed to insert a keyhole in middle of one of the side panels, nowhere close to where the box and the lid had come together? It wasn't even straight- in fact, it was upside down. Shoddy craftsmanship, all around.

(The fact that Lila had never made anything like the box and had no idea how to even approach putting a lock like that on a box or even make any sort of box herself was, of course, completely irrelevant.)

Unlike the lock on the storage bench, the lock on the box wasn't very straightforward. There were more pins in this lock, and each one had to be individually maneuvered into place. Lila worked on it, scowling in concentration as she slowly picked it open.

Either Marinette had just happened to have a lock sitting around that she used, or there was something good inside of the box. No collège student was going to spend the amount of extra money it would take for a fancier lock like this for no reason at all.

With one last careful nudge, the lock gave. Lila grinned in triumph, flipping the box open. The lid seemed a bit heavy- for some reason it seemed to be lined with a strange metal band, but who cared- and there were a few stray papers and a thin journal sitting in the top compartment, on top of a wooden shelf with- you have GOT to be kidding me- another lock, just barely visible. Lila reached in to move them, and suddenly metal flashed, quick as a blink. Lila shrieked in surprise, automatically yanking her hand back, but she was far too late. Pointed metal teeth had snapped shut around her arm, keeping it in place, and- oh god.

They hadn't just closed around her arm. No, they had gone straight through the skin and- oh god the pain-

Lila fainted.

Marinette had been having a lovely time at her sewing techniques workshop. Their instructor had walked the small class through all sorts of different ways of handling material, and next week they would be covering more tricky materials. They had gotten an entire binder with step-by-step photo reminders of what they had learned, and Marinette's already had notes scribbled up and down the margins.

She was so glad that she had won the scholarship to the class. It wasn't that she couldn't afford it herself- after all, with the commissions that she had done lately for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, she wasn't left wanting for money- but considering that she often had to miss things because of akuma attacks, Marinette wouldn't have wanted to spend the money on something that she might not even be able to attend. With the scholarship...

Well, if an akuma showed up, that would still suck. She was learning so much from the class and it would definitely up her design skills. Having to duck out on the class because someone got upset and Hawkmoth had to akumatize them would be a huge disappointment, because she would miss out on so much valuable instruction. But at least she wouldn't be spending her own money on it.

She still felt a bit guilty that she was doing the class and not spending the spare time working on learning more Guardian stuff, but the Order and Master Norbu had assured her that she should make sure to balance her superhero duties and her civilian life. After all, they didn't want her coming to resent her duty as Guardian because of everything that it made her miss out on.

The last section came to an end, and everyone turned off their machines and started packing up. Marinette tucked her sewn samples into her bag with her binder- at some point, she wanted to actually file the fabric pieces in next to their respective instructions, but that was a project for another day- and pulled out her phone, opening it up to check for messages. She had put it on silent for the class- silent with the sole exception of akuma alerts, thank you Max for that setting modification- so that no one would accidentally distract her. Sometimes the class chat blew up over the weekend, and having that pinging constantly throughout the class...

Well, it wouldn't give anyone a very good impression of her, that was for sure.

-and oh boy that was a lot of messages.

"My parents tried to call me ten times, Tikki!" Marinette hissed, all of the relaxation and good feelings from the day gone in a heartbeat as she tried and failed not to catastrophize. "Oh my god, what if one of them had a heart attack or a machine broke and sent pieces everywhere and they're at the hospital and it's really bad and I should have been there and-"

"Call them back!" Tikki urged, sticking her head out of Marinette's jacket as soon as they were clear of the rest of the group. "And- look, it was both of your parents calling, not just one or the other. So that means that they're probably fine, right?"

"Oh!" Marinette considered that for a minute, then dove straight back into her worrying. "Then maybe the bakery caught on fire and burned down and we're homeless and-"

"Just call them back, Marinette!" Tikki exclaimed, though she was looking worried, too. "Then they can tell you what actually happened."

Marinette wavered, then pressed Call. Her mom's phone rang once, twice, and then she picked up.

"Marinette! Ah, is your class over?"

"Yeah, we- we just finished," Marinette responded, her heart rate slowly dropping back towards normal. Her mom didn't sound overly upset, so- maybe it wasn't super-serious? "I- I saw you called? And papa?"

"Yes, I hated to call during your class, but- well, there was an incident," her mom told her, sounding a bit hesitant. "Right away- your dad and I are fine, the bakery is fine, the house is fine. But your classmate- Lila Rossi- she broke into the house and into your room. She got into your storage bench and- anyway, long story short, there was a box in there that was, ah, quite severely booby-trapped?"

Marinette's heart skipped several beats, jumping straight into her throat. The- that was the box where she hid the Miracle Box. It was very well hidden- after all, it had been in a locked storage bench, hidden under Adrien's presents, and then locked (several time over) itself- and she had assumed that that would be enough to keep it undiscovered. If Lila had gotten into it- even just into the first layer- that could be enough to put the Miracle Box in danger. The police might want to know what was in the box, or they might have broken it open to get Lila's hand out- because presumably Lila had gotten her hand caught when she tried to get the box open, and getting the trap open wasn't exactly straightforward- or maybe Lila hadn't been caught too badly and had somehow persuaded someone to open the box for her. "It- yes?"

"Whatever the box is hiding- well, it's still hidden," her mom assured her, and Marinette couldn't stop herself from letting out a sigh of relief. "The second level is still locked. And the doctors did manage to get it off of Lila's arm- well, after a bit of puzzling, at least, they said that set-up was very clever. That was why we called you, actually. We didn't want to bother you, but it was just taking the hospital and the police so long to figure out that lock mechanism and they had been hoping for a clue."

...well, at least her mom didn't sound upset with her. Yet, anyway.

"We've gotten the box back now," her mom continued. "And we've already dealt with the police, so you don't need to worry there. They understand that Lila wasn't meant to be in our house, much less your room, and that the box was securely hidden and locked up. The only reason they might want to talk to you is to learn more about why Lila might have broken in."

"To make me look bad, I bet," Marinette said dryly. "To steal things, or plant evidence, or try to find something to blackmail me. Why else?"

"Lovely girl." Her mom said something to someone else on the other end of the line, muffled and indecipherable, before she came back. "That's all, really. Will you be coming back soon?"

"Yeah, I'm heading for the bus stop."

"All right. See you soon!"

With that, the call disconnected. Marinette stared at her phone for a minute, then glanced down at Tikki. Her kwami looked just as worried.

"I thought that you had hidden the Miracle Box really well!" Tikki exclaimed. "That was a really nice place, and no one ever goes digging in there! Add in the fact that you had it locked, and it should have been fine."

"Yeah, but clearly Lila was digging around with the intention of finding anything that I had hidden," Marinette told her. She let out a sigh, the stress starting to inch back in on her, taking all of the relaxation from her sewing class away. Maybe the Miracle Box hadn't been found today, but- well, this was hardly going to be the end of this whole fiasco. If (when) Lila got akumatized again, she would probably go after the box again to see if she could break it. She might tell people at school about it- changing, of course, the reason why she had been in Marinette's room in the first place and making up completely different circumstances as to how she had ended up with her hands on the box. While Marinette really had no choice but to return the box to its previous spot for the moment- after making sure that it was re-set, of course- it wouldn't be completely safe for the long term.

At least summer break was coming up soon and she had already been doing research on how to DIY hidden compartments. Clearly she would need to use that knowledge earlier than intended.

"Maybe she'll actually get in trouble this time," Tikki offered hopefully. "I mean, breaking and entering, trying to steal- you could try to press charges."

"Maybe, but considering how injured Lila probably is, she'd probably pull the sympathy card." Marinette groaned. "I don't understand how she even got in! We've been keeping the side door locked, and mom knows better than to let Lila into the house."

"If she got through the locks on the bench and the box, Lila probably knows how to pick locks," Tikki reminded her. "She might have just picked her way through the door downstairs."

That was a terrifying thought, honestly. That someone like Lila could just pick her way past a door lock and get in her house...

"If that's what happened, I'm definitely going to petition my parents to get better locks." Marinette checked her room again, then headed back down the stairs. Tikki flew after her, phasing into her purse. "I don't think they would agree to put in booby traps, too, but- ugh, I'm going to be worrying about people getting into the house now."

"Maybe it's just a matter of the lock being old and needing to be replaced," Tikki suggested. "Hopefully your mom knows more."

"I hope so!"

It felt like it took forever for the bus to come, and then it trundled along the streets far too slowly for Marinette's taste. She spent the entire trip worrying over different scenarios where Lila could twist things around to make Marinette look like the bad guy and trying to figure out where she could add a hidden compartment to her room, somewhere where no one would notice the addition.

This far, she was coming up blank. Maybe she could put something on her balcony- but that just didn't seem secure enough. It would be far too easy for a passing akuma (or, perish the thought, a passing supervillain) to accidentally knock into and destroy a hidden compartment. No, it would be better to get creative inside her room.

Once she hopped off of the bus, Marinette wasted no time in hurrying home. The bakery was still open- hopefully business hadn't been interrupted too much by Lila's injury- and she headed in, sparing a quick smile for a few regular customers that she recognized. Her parents had one of their normal bakers working the counter in her mom's place, clearly finishing up the day so that the Dupain-Chengs would be able to deal with the mess going on in their home.

Hopefully it wasn't messing production up too much. If both of her parents were upstairs and they had one of the normal back kitchen bakers at the counter, that meant fewer hands on deck to start preparing things for the next day. And since the staff wouldn't stay overtime, that meant that her parents would end up working long hours.

Freaking Lila. Of course she just had to make life difficult for everyone else simply because she was spiteful and fixated on revenge.

Not wasting any time, Marinette headed upstairs. Her mom was in their kitchen and on the phone, her back to the door, but her dad wasn't anywhere in sight. That meant he was probably downstairs, which suggested that she actually wasn't in trouble because she had the trap. If she had been, her dad would be there too, his arms folded and a frown on his face.

Her mom, though, was more than making up for the frowning as she argued with whoever was on the other end of the line.

"No, I am not arguing the definition of 'breaking and entering' or 'trespassing' with you," Mrs. Cheng snapped into the phone, mere seconds after Marinette entered the room. Marinette paused, blinking over at her mom in confusion. Normally her mom didn't raise her voice over the phone. "You are not a resident here, you do not get to let people in who we don't want inside. That is outright irresponsible behavior- no, I do not care what your interpretation of the situation was, I already told you that. And I will be contacting your mom about this. Perhaps she can get it through your head how unacceptable your actions were. Good-bye."

With that, Mrs. Cheng hit the end call button with a flourish, scowling at the phone for a moment before noticing Marinette. Her scowl was promptly replaced with a smile. "Marinette! How was your class?"

"It went well," Marinette told her, biting back the urge to gush. That could wait until dinner, after the more pressing issue of Lila's break-in had been dealt with. "Who was on the phone?"

"That was Alya," Mrs. Cheng told Marinette with a sigh. She pocketed her phone and washed off her hands before returning to her dinner prep. "I was calling to ask her if- well, she stopped by earlier to get something, so I wanted to know if she saw or heard anything out of place while she was here. I just wanted to try to get a better idea of when Lila might have broken in so we wouldn't have to go through as much security footage-"

"Wait, why did Alya come over?" Marinette interrupted, frowning in confusion. She hadn't borrowed anything from Alya recently, and normally Alya at least texted her to let her know if she was borrowing anything from Marinette for some reason while she wasn't home.

"I was getting to that, don't interrupt," Mrs. Cheng gently chided her. "Anyway, Alya seemed pretty surprised about us having a break-in... until I mentioned that it was Lila."

Marinette groaned. She was getting a sinking suspicion that she knew where this was going. "Please don't tell me that Alya let Lila in."

"...Alya let Lila in," Mrs. Cheng confirmed, sighing. "...on the plus side, at least she didn't pick her way in through our doors. I would be looking into swapping out our locks if that were the case."

"Why on earth would she think that that would be a good idea in any way?" Marinette exclaimed. "And- well, presumably she let Lila in and then just ran off instead of supervising her, which- even if Lila somehow made up some reason for having to stop by my room, why wouldn't Alya at least have the common sense to stay with her?"

"Well, from what Alya said, Lila said that she had loaned you something and you had forgotten to give it back, and she was worried about bringing it up and making you upset... because you might think that you had already returned it and think that she was trying to frame you. Or something." Mrs. Cheng pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. "It sounded like Lila was making it sound like you two were starting to mend bridges. And I told Alya that Lila was found with a lock picking kit and some jewelry from your Nonna Gina in her pockets, but she's still insisting that it was all a misunderstanding. "

"How- how much did you tell Alya?" Marinette asked suddenly, brain all of a sudden dancing with pictures of Alya hearing about the trap and trying to dig into what, exactly, Marinette was trying to hide. She presumably had enough sense to not go digging through Marinette's things in hopes of an interesting discovery, especially considering how hurt Lila had gotten, but that didn't mean that Alya wouldn't incessantly ask her questions, and within hearing distance of other people, too.

Not that Lila probably wouldn't bring up the trap on her own- or would she? Why would she? There would be no way to talk about it without making herself look bad. But if Lila's reputation was tanking anyway, maybe she would bring it up just to make Marinette look bad, too.

"Not much," Mrs. Cheng assured her. "I didn't have to. I implied that Lila got into a locked box of sewing things and cut herself that way, which is very believable. Your fabric scissors are sharp, as are your rotary cutters, and it's not hard to believe that someone who wasn't familiar with that box might get themselves injured. I'm not going to tell your most inquisitive friend about your very mysterious and heavily-guarded trap box."

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief.

"On a related note, I suspect that Alya might not be very keen on coming over here for a while," Mrs. Cheng added. "I was not subtle about how irritated I was with her. And she just kept on digging her heels in more whenever I pointed out things that she wasn't considering or just flat-out missed." She paused, looking slightly sheepish. "And I may, before you got back, have insulted her investigative and observational skills. Just a little bit. I just got too mad about the fact that she fell for such an obvious lie and didn't even try to check with you about it before she went ahead and let Lila in."

Honestly, Marinette couldn't blame her mom for exploding. She couldn't believe that Alya would have done that- and apparently still thought that she was completely justified in doing it. If Lila hadn't gotten herself injured and had gotten away without being caught, who knew what sort of damage she could have caused or what information she might have gotten her hands on?

Frankly, if things had gotten to that point, once she realized what had happened, Marinette probably wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to pull out the Horse and Portal Lila to somewhere dangerous. The arctic, maybe, or the surface of the Moon. She wouldn't be able to cause trouble there.

After a pause, Mrs. Cheng nodded towards the couch. "Your box is there. I think the police said that it's currently disarmed, but be careful with it."

Marinette nodded, scooting around the table to grab the box off of the couch. She was planning on being super careful. After working so hard on the trap- well, she had once gotten a cut on her finger while she was assembling the booby trap, and that had been without any force behind it. She had no intention of becoming acquainted with those same blades with force behind them.

Besides, the box was completely safe when it was disarmed, and Marinette really didn't think that she was likely to ever just forget to disarm it, not with all of the safety measures she had deliberately built in. All that took was unlocking the second lock first- the crooked one that looked like it had been a mistake, or just a practice run on a spare piece of wood that ended up not being a spare piece- and then she could unlock the lid itself. There was a visible latch on the inside that would give away- to her- if the trap was set or not, and she always checked it just in case before sticking her hand in.

"I know how to open it safely and make sure that it's disarmed before I put my hand in," Marinette assured her mom. "After all, I designed it. I won't forget how to do it."

"Honestly, I figured that much. It wasn't a reassurance when I looked at the box at first because honestly, it doesn't look like an expertly engineered box." Mrs. Cheng smiled over at Marinette. "But that's deliberate, isn't it? No one would suspect that there's anything inside when it looks like a beginner's project."

"It was either make it look like that or try to make some sort of ornate box with a hidden key hole so that no one could figure out where the lock was, but- well, I don't have the time or skill to do that sort of carving." Marinette ran one hand over the box, remembering how much effort it had taken to make the box really solid and then go back and make it look like a beginner's project, ramshackle and not at all sturdy. If the person looking at the box knew anything about construction, the presence of the lock would probably give away the fact that she knew what she was doing, but Marinette was willing to bet that most people wouldn't know that. "It would have been cool, though. I've seen some locks online where people would never figure out how to open it unless they had been shown how, and that would have been nice."

Hawkmoth would probably just try to slice the box open then, but- well, if he did, he was in for a surprise. The wood might crack, but the enchanted metal underneath wouldn't budge.

"You've done quite a bit of research about this, then." Mrs. Cheng considered Marinette for a long moment, and she resisted the urge to squirm. "Honestly, there's a part of me that really wants to question the box and say no to you having it, because it's clearly dangerous- I mean, I saw the damage that it did to Lila- and even though I know you'll be careful, it's hard to be comfortable with the idea of that being in your room. But clearly you've been responsible with storing it, and I trust that you wouldn't have gone so far out of your way to get the materials and do the modifications to that trap if you didn't think it was important to protect whatever is in there." She took a deep breath, and Marinette could tell that her mom was severely torn about whatever she was about to say. "So your dad and I are going to allow it, and we won't ask about what you have in the box. Heaven knows you deserve some privacy."

Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I- thank you."

"And- I didn't want to say anything over the phone, but the police had originally wanted to talk with you about why you had that trap on the box," Mrs. Cheng continued, and Marinette's heart dropped right back into her feet, the moment of relief gone. "Because- well, normally kids your age don't have stuff like that. But- oh, you should have seen it. Your dad got very puffed-up and huffy with them about how this was the second time in less than two years that a classmate of yours had been caught breaking into your room with ill intentions and were you not allowed to protect your things? And one of the police was Officer Raincomprix, so of course he was in a pretty big hurry to drop that line of questioning. Particularly when he was reminded that his daughter was the other classmate that had snuck in."

Marinette hastily muffled a laugh. She would have loved to see that, honestly. "And they didn't say that they would, like, come back later or anything?"

"Only to get a statement from you that Lila wasn't meant to be at our house at all. Your father and I discussed it, and- if it's all right with you- we'd like to pursue pressing charges. We've heard enough about Lila that we want to make sure that she won't be bothering you in the future. Breaking and entering is just- she's taken it too far. She's been taking it too far, and I apologize for both your dad and I that we haven't taken it seriously. No disorder is going to compel someone to target you to the degree that she has been, much less plot to break into your room." Mrs. Cheng shook her head, clearly disgusted at herself for having fallen for the lie. "At the very least, we want to look into getting a restraining order. That should keep her away from you."

"What if Lila spins some tale or tries to get sympathy and we can't get the order?" Marinette asked. Even with their evidence- well, from the sounds of it, Lila's hand was probably pretty mangled, and she didn't have the magical healing potion that Marinette kept on hand just in case to put it back to normal. "What if they decide that her hand is punishment enough?"

"Then we'll argue that." Mrs. Cheng's voice was firm. "If you testify about what Lila has been like, then the courts will know that she's likely to just go back to school and cry about her wrist to get sympathy. And they've seen people like her before, I'm sure. They're not going to be as easily fooled as your teachers and classmates and- well, and your dad and I."

Marinette swallowed and nodded. That would be nice. That would be really nice.

"And if they do- well, and even if they don't- I will be talking to Lila's mother. There's no way she knows what her daughter has been up to, if she still was letting her run around." Mrs. Cheng nodded once, sharp, and Marinette knew that there would be no stopping her mom now. She was determined to keep Lila away from Marinette and force her to see the consequences of her actions, and so it would happen.

Honestly, Marinette had the best parents ever.

Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she tucked the box back in its spot, piling the presents for Adrien back on top of it and shutting the lid of her storage bench. It locked with a thud and a sharp click, sounding sturdy and secure.

It was too bad that that was a lie. Marinette ran her fingers over the lock, wondering if she should try switching out the lock for a different style, something that would be harder- or, even better, impossible- to pick. It might be hard to do that without attracting attention, though, and if she messed it up?

It would be better to not have signs of tampering on her bench, just in case. Maybe she should practice with putting in and taking out locks on a bit of scrap wood first.

A blanket went over the bench, set at a jaunty angle, just casual enough that it didn't look arranged. Marinette's backpack went next to it, the perfect picture of nothing here to see.

And still Marinette worried her lip.

"It'll be fine, Marinette!" Tikki told her, zipping up next to her shoulder. "Downstairs is all locked up, the box is hidden, and the bench is locked. No one is going to be breaking in- and Lila is in the hospital anyway."

"I know, but..." Marinette trailed off, glancing around her room. Whenever someone entered her room without her consent- when Sabrina broke in, after Jagged Stone's camera wandered in while broadcasting live to all of Paris, and then now with Lila- she always felt thrown off kilter and uncomfortable, out of place and not as secure as normal in her own room. It wasn't ever a nice feeling.

She couldn't even safely leave her diary out in her room. Not her diary, not anything that might be the least bit valuable, not any signs of her crush or anything that might even hint at her double life. Maybe it would be a good idea to tuck those things away anyway, but there was a difference between having to simply put things away instead of leaving them out in the open and having to lock everything away under several layers of protection.

Marinette was starting to get the feeling that once she was older and had her own place, there would be a lot of personalization with false walls and hidden compartments where she could hide away- well, everything, really. All of the parts of her life that she might be at all leery of anyone finding out about.

It was always going to be a good idea to hide the Miraculous stuff, especially while Hawkmoth was active, but Marinette should be able to expect some measure of privacy in her own room. The fact that she apparently couldn't...

Maybe it was a better idea to not dwell on that too much. And, with any luck, they wouldn't have any trouble going forward. She and her parents had talked over dinner and come up with a new rule for letting in friends and classmates: all visits had to be approved by Marinette before they set foot through the door. If she let them in herself it was fine, of course, but if they came in through the bakery and wanted to be let up then Sabine had to have a text on her phone from Marinette approving it. There would be no more surprise visits from her friends- or at least no truly surprise visits, since she would at least get a couple minutes' warning from her mom's inquiry text- and no more people going up to her room when she wasn't there 'just to grab something really quickly, honest'. If someone tried to come over as a surprise and Marinette didn't see her mom's text right away- either because she was just busy or because she was out as Ladybug- then that was just too bad. They didn't just get to saunter up and poke around in her room unattended until she got back.

That- well, security reasons aside, it was a really good change. There had been multiple times lately when Marinette had been in the middle of trying to catch up on homework and one (or more) of her friends burst in and interrupted her, and that had both thrown her completely off and eaten up time that she really didn't have to spare because she felt bad about sending them away when they had come over to see her. There hadn't been any times yet where Marinette had been out as Ladybug and came back to find someone in her room, but, well, she couldn't get lucky forever. If they hadn't made the change, then it would probably only be a matter of time before Ladybug slipped into her room after a long fight and found Alya waiting there.

(That would be a disaster.)

"At least I hadn't gotten around to painting the trap with the poison that the Order sent me," Marinette commented after a pause, pushing away thoughts of her new visiting arrangements and how she really should have implemented them earlier for the time being. The poison was a new suggestion from the Order, something to completely ensure that Hawkmoth wouldn't be able to steal the Miraculous, and it was a suggestion that made her really, really nervous. She fiddled with one of the tassels on the blanket, then resolutely turned and headed up to bed. "The police might have been fine with the bear trap- if only barely- but a bear trap coated in poison? I would have gotten in so much trouble."

"I still think it would be a good idea to put it on," Tikki told her. "I know it ups the scary factor even more, but in case Hawkmoth finds the box and he doesn't pass out from the trap- or if it doesn't catch him as much as it sounds like it got Lila, since he might be expecting a trap!- then it should still keep him from getting away scot-free. You have the antidote and the healing potions, so you should still be safe!"

"In theory, at least." Sure, the Order had assured her that it would take some time for the poison to kick in, enough time for her to get to her remedies- a delay of sorts, followed by it absolutely flooring the unfortunate person affected- but that still depended entirely on her keeping her head long enough to actually get to them.

Maybe she needed to consider a rearranging of where things were so that there would be less distance between the box and the antidotes, just in case that very dangerous and (hopefully) very unlikely scenario of the box snapping shut on her ever happened.

Ugh. More things to do, as though she didn't already have enough on her plate. But Tikki was right- Hawkmoth was too much of a threat to keep putting off the secondary level of protection. She would just have to be super careful around the box- even more than she had been before- and prioritize getting her remedies located closer to the hidden Miracle Box.

That, and she definitely had to make sure that she kept her remedy up-to-date, no slacking and letting it come close to expiration. And, well, she had to make sure that she didn't use up the healing potion- the potion that would immediately reverse the damage from the trap in case something went wrong- with injuries that she got while sewing or tripping over her own feet.

At least she knew how to make the healing potion. As long as Marinette kept an eye on how much she had- and her (poorly) hidden supply of potion ingredients, those had to be next on her list of things to build hiding spots for after a new spot for the box and a close but not too close location for the remedies- and made sure to top it back up whenever she got low, using it for other injuries shouldn't be a problem.

"I'll tell Mom no babysitting next weekend, and do the poison then," Marinette said, realizing that she hadn't said anything for a minute. "If I do it right away and the police end up wanting to see it again, then that'll be an issue. If I give it a little time, then I won't end up putting the poison on and then having to take it right off again. And I need to get some more supplies- a dedicated paintbrush, and some gloves so that my skin doesn't come in contact with it at all."

Tikki nodded, approving. "I didn't think of that! That's a good thought. I think that should be fast enough. And it'll give you time to think about ways you can shake up your set-up so that no one else will know about it again!"

"The biggest changes there might have to wait to summer, honestly," Marinette admitted. The amount of work it would take to make a hidden cubby- and to make it fast enough that no one would notice it- would be absolutely insane, her biggest project yet. "But I'm sure that I can make some changes to up my security before then, and dream up improvements that I can make so that I'm ready to hit the ground running as soon as I have enough free time."

Her mind was whirring with more ideas already, actually. She would have to ask the Order to enchant more metal so to be Miraculous-resistant, pieces that she could put inside of the storage bench and keep it from being destroyed. If Hawkmoth (or his akumas) couldn't pick locks, that should be enough to stop him. And then if she practiced with taking out and putting locks in, then she could put in a lock like one she had seen online most recently, the one that had a hidden keyhole. Both improvements wouldn't affect her ability to get in- which was a good thing, since speed was super important during akuma fights- but should make things for difficult for anyone with nefarious intentions.

It would be a lot of work, of course, and might mean skipping out on a few outings with her friends to get things done quickly just in case, but she could make the Miracle Box safe and secure again. It might even end up helping her in the long run, since now she knew where the weak points in her security were and could fix them before they were put to the test by an akuma or Hawkmoth. Sure, it wasn't ideal that people knew about the box at all, but- well, it wasn't worth crying over spilled milk.

Marinette would come back from this, and she would come back stronger.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #Traps and Sneaks

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veorlian · 4 years ago

Text

honey tongue

The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.

my submissions for @hightown-funk are up!! here’s the first one <3

read it on ao3 here

The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets.

Well. More riots than usual, at least.

Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.

And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales.

He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.

“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”

“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them.

“It was not,” Marian tossed back.

“Was too."

Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.

“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”

“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.

“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.

“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”

“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.

“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”

“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.

“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.

“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.

“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.

“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.

“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.

“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.

She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.

“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”

“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”

“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”

“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.

“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.

“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.

“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”

Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. What the hell…?

“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.

“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”

“Hey—” Carver began.

The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.

Plus, you’re not as good-looking.

Did Varric think she was good-looking?

Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually matter to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.

Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.

It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And so.

“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.

“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.

“You’re my favourite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.

She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.

After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.

And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that. … Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.

It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine.

Until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).

She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.

“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.

“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.

“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. What the hell?

The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.

He missed it, when it wasn’t there.

He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Oh.

With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.

Shit. … The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.

She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.

“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.

“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Marian, I—” Record scratch, freeze frame. Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.

“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”

His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.

She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.

“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.

She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.

“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.

“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.

“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.

“I have as well,” she said at last.

“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”

“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.

#this was such a joy to write #da2 #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #hightown funk

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