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beigehearts · 3 years

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Multiple requests are fine! Requests are unlimited.

This is a cool idea so hell yeah

Yandere Adult Trio finding you after a few years after escape CW: physical abuse, mentions of kidnapping, blood, needles

Hisoka

This is rather nice actually. A quiet life in the middle of nowhere where no one questions you. It’s somewhat of a farming community you live in. You work at a farmers market, selling fresh fruits and vegetables to the same people every day. Everyone here recognizes you under your fake identity, and treats you as part of the community. As if you didn’t randomly appear one day. As if you aren’t in hiding.

It’s been about three years you would say. Three years since you escaped... him. You dyed your hair, wore colored contacts and completely changed your clothing look. You moved countries, learned a new language, and completely dropped your entire identity and life. It was the only way you could escape him. How you escaped him remains a mystery to you too. He was always attentive but- you escaped that last time. Slipped through his fingers.

Mr. Grady, the oldest farmer in town hobbles over to your stand and smiles with his big loose mouth. He only has a few teeth but you don’t need many when you blend all of your food anyway.

“Oh hello Charlie. How are you today?” He asks with his frail old man voice.

You smile back and begin bagging up the usual for him. “Very good Mr. Grady. How are you?”

Your conversations are never short but it’s almost become a highlight of your day to hear the old man ramble. “Oh you know. The sheep dog are sick, so I tried rounding those cows up with my cat. He practically got trampled!” He throws his arms up as if it’s unbelievable. You somewhat listen as he continues. “... moral of the story is, cats are unreliable and only have two lives.”

As you hand the paper bag over the counter the old man stops to think for a moment. “I saw someone new up by the shops today, he was a real character. Quite tall too.”

You nod and get the change for the money he hands you, “Oh really? Did you talk to him?”

“He wasn’t much interested in me. Though he didn’t seem like a normal traveler. He was much too eccentric for that.” He offers one last toothless smile, “Don’t work too late. It’s time for the foxbears to come out of hibernation soon.”

Before you can further question him, he hobbles off pretty quickly for an old man. Of course you’re overreacting but someone eccentric and tall randomly coming to town? No it couldn’t be. It’s been over three years since then. And he wouldn’t go this far for you would he?

After closing up the shop you grab the keys to your car and head for the ‘parking lot’. It’s a field with white lines spray painted on the grass with a single light to illuminate the whole place. You hop into your car and are just glad to finally go home after a long day. It was rather slow but that’s because it was a tuesday. It is very busy on friday-monday. You start your car, and turn on the air, you plug your phone in and relax some into your seat.

You adjust your rear view mirror and scream when you do. You just barely catch the reflection of someone in the back of your car. He’s sitting in the back seat watching you closely. You decide against turning around to face him.

“Hello y/n. Or is it Charlie?” He asks calmly, as if it were a casual conversation.

You clear your throat and try to control your shaking. “What are you doing here Hisoka?”

He ignores your question completely. “You really know how to choose a nice town. Quiet, friendly, off the grid.”

“I suppose.” Your hands grip on the steering wheel tightens. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, well, it was quite hard really. You did a good job. But once I found the first person who helped you change your identity, it was just a matter of going down the chain.”

You’d rather not think about what happened to those people. “And what are you doing here?” You repeat your question.

“Well there’s only one thing I’m here for of course.” He leans back in the seat, just barely having enough room for his legs. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

“I don’t want to. It’s nice here.” You state as if you have an option.

He leans forward this time, and cranes his head around the drivers seat to whisper in your ear, “It’s really not up to you pet.”

Before you can even react, there’s a rope around your neck, and he’s pulling you hard against your seat. You claw at the rope and gasp for air. You try to turn some but the rope burn hurts too much. You manage to get your fingers under the rope around your neck, and throw yourself forward.

His head smacks the back of your seat but your head smacks the wheel, honking the horn. There’s no doubt that you’re bleeding. You throw the rope over your head and jump out of the car, and run. But he’s much faster.

He jumps out of the car and before you know it, he grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you to him. He holds you against himself with his arms, leaving no room for escape. But you have one more trick up your sleeve. You throw your head back as hard you can and headbutt his face. There’s a loud crack that you can only assume is his nose.

He groans and his nails dig into your skin through your clothes. “You really got feisty while I was away.” His nails begin to pierce your skin, ripping through the cloth of your shirt. “But it’s no matter, it only turns me on more.”

Illumi

To say you’re on the run is an understatement. You’re practically sprinting away even all these years later. You know that if you stop for even a few days that he would find you. You spend no more than three days at a time in the same place. You’ve travelled half of the world by now- and quite honestly it has been somewhat nice. Not just the freedom from the suffocating grasp of your captor Illumi, but being able to see the world. You would never have done this if not for the situation you were in. Maybe things happen for a reason.

It feels like forever since you’ve been travelling. But the reality is that it’s only been two years. Two long years of not stopping. You have a new name and often go days without eating. It’s not easy getting money when you aren’t in the same area for long.

It was late night when you escaped from him. He never let his guard down so you just had to go for it. He wasn’t expecting you to make a mad dash out of the manor, and hide out in the woods for a few days. Slowly but surely you managed to get out of the mountain prison, leaving through the small door next to the office. The man working at the entrance was sipping tea and reading the newspaper when you left much too busy to pay attention to you. You’re more than sure he was punished for missing you leaving. But sometimes you wonder if he chose to ignore you on purpose, and let you escape.

It’s a beautiful morning. You slept on a few blankets and a sweatshirt as a pillow on the ground of a cave. It was hard to get any sleep at first but you managed to get used to the back pain. The sun is shining through the canopy, streams of light illuminating the cave. The grass outside of the cave is wet with dew droplets. It’s only slightly humid but the breeze with the warm weather is heavenly. It’s not every day you get good weather like this.

You sit up and stretch your arms in the air, yawning tiredly. Your usual morning routine was to get a fire started, and put the tiny kettle above it. In your small backpack you have a few essential items. Coffee being one of them. You get out your tin can after jimmying a fire and filling the kettle with water from a nearby stream. You drop some instant coffee grounds in the kettle and bask in the aroma of coffee.

You pour yourself a cup and put some powdered milk packets and splenda in the cup, stirring it with a stick that looked relatively... clean. But you had a feeling that today was the day. You weren’t sure why this morning you knew he would find you. But you did. Almost on cue, you hear footsteps approach behind you.

You bring the tin cup to your lips, taking a long sip of the hot coffee.

“So this is where you’ve been.” You don’t even flinch at his words. You knew this was inevitable.

The coffee burns your tongue. “Yes, I must have stayed here for a day too long. Don’t you agree Illumi?”

“Yes. It was quite stupid.” There’s a silence between the two of you. You continue sitting on the ground with your back facing him. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks as if he’s picking you up from and elementary sleep over.

“May I finish my coffee first?”

“I suppose.” Though he doesn’t move from his spot, his gaze staying firm on your back.

Luckily you haven’t spent all this time just running, but training. In self defense to be specific.

Quickly you jump up and turn around, you move your arm to throw the coffee on him in hopes of burning him. He grabs your wrist, but the coffee does land on his forearm. You bring your leg up to kick him in the side but he grabs it right as you make contact. The only hit you actually manage to land is when you throw a punch with your free hand at his throat. If it were anyone else they would be stunned for at least a few seconds. But this wasn’t anyone. He shows no sign of flinching.

“Are you ready now?” He asks.

You allow your body to relax and he lets go of your limbs. “Go ahead, put a needle in me.”

He doesn’t argue with your point, pressing a needle to your chest and the last thing you hear is “Don’t fight it.”

Chrollo

The very thought that all of these people by his side had no qualms about you being kidnapped makes you sick. All of them had many chances to set you free and yet they stayed loyal to your captor, as if this were normal and okay. So many people witnessing this unhealthy obsession and not even muttering a word about it. Honestly you find it more ridiculous than you do sad. How did he have all these people under his thumb? Was he really just that powerful?

Wherever he went, you went. One day he had what they called, ‘a mission.” You had caught a cargo train out west and jumped on, as stowaways. It’s not as if anyone checked each boxcar. All of you had fallen asleep in the small space of the boxcar. The train was at full speed, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Cargo trains were much faster than you anticipated. Once you were sure everyone was asleep, you stood up casually as if you were just stretching. In case someone woke up. Which they did. Nobunaga peeled his eyes open and examined you. But he was too slow, you leaped out of the car before anyone could grab you. You went tumbling through a field after hitting your head very hard against the ground. It wasn’t the perfect escape but it was an escape.

After that you found a nearby farm, and while it was still night you stole a horse from a barn. You rode for many miles, until days later you found a very busy city. Somehow you managed to make a life for yourself, becoming a low grade secretary.

Today was a slow day, your employer did not have many clients today. You checked in on your boss to see if she needed anything but she waved you away. You decided to play solitaire on the computer, a perfectly valid way to waste time.

The phone rings and you pick it up while still keeping one hand on the mouse to play solitaire.

“Hello this is the Seedling Lawyer’s Office. How may I help you?” You stick the phone between your ear and shoulder, playing solitaire.

There’s a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “So it is you.”

Your blood runs cold, and the only thing that your head is telling you is ‘run’. “I’m not sure who this is, could you please state your name and purpose for calling?” Playing dumb seems like the only decision right now.

“My darling, there’s no need for the semantics. I’m coming to pick you up right now.” Perfectly on cue, the sliding doors of the building open and you drop the phone, standing up abruptly.

His eyes show affection and kindness, but there’s a glimmer of... rage. You look around but no one is in the waiting room and you know the cameras are fake for security. This is a cheap layer’s business after all.

“There’s no need for the semantics Chrollo.” You try to say mockingly but it comes out more as fearful and unsure.

His smile drops and he begins walking towards your desk. “Do you understand the consequences of your actions y/n?” He scoffs kicks the heavy desk to the side as if it weighed nothing. “I missed you of course.”

“Ah well, maybe I needed a break.” It comes out as a question.

He corners you against the wall and places a rough hand on your cheek. “Oh darling, oh my sweet darling.” His smile reappears, as sweet as it always has been. “I’m going to kill your entire family.” His hand grips the side of your face roughly and he tilts your head back.

“You really are something. I would never hurt you, you know.” He places a gentle kiss against your cheek despite his tight grip on the side of your head. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for what you’ve done.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab his wrist. “Well you’re hurting me right now.”

Immediately he drops his hand and sighs. “I would never hurt you intentionally, or if not necessary.” He grabs your throat, holding it so tightly you wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk again. He’s crushing your air ways and vocal cords. You claw at his wrist but its useless. “Disciplining you does not count as hurting you.” He leans forward, and if you could yelp you would.

He bites your cheek, definitely leaving a mark. After drawing blood, he licks it up. Your vision is going dark but you’re simply not strong enough to fight back. “Do you understand darling?”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

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maulusque · 4 years

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WHAT IF MAUL KIDNAPPED ANAKIN RIGHT OFF OF TATOOINE

(I started writing this and then it got out of hand and now it’s 3:30 in the morning, rest of it’s under the break so i don’t monopolize your dash)

So for whatever combination of reasons, Maul spits out the kool-aid and gets really disenchanted with Sidious a lot earlier than in canon. He starts wondering things like “why is he not telling me his master plan if i’m so important to it?” and “why do i get nothing more than vague promises of power sometime in the future, when i should be guaranteed a position as his second-in-command, after all I’ve done for this guy?” and “why does he treat me like i’m disposable, and then constantly tell me i’m crucial for his plans?”

and he starts thinking things like “hey wait a minute, none of that childhood torture made me better at anything sith-related, it just gave me crippling trauma that actually impairs my capacity for self-control and incredible violence” and (possibly due to his experiences at Orsis Academy) “oh whack looks like kids learn a lot better and faster when they’re, like, having fun? Whatever ‘fun’ is?”

and anyway by the time he gets to tatooine with orders to “find that stoner jedi and kick his ass”, Maul is pretty annoyed at his master. And when he senses not one, not two, but THREE powerful force-presences on Tatooine, one of which vastly eclipses any other force presence he’s ever felt, and belongs to a nine-year-old slave boy, Maul gets an idea. You know, (he thinks), his master sure would love to get his hands on a force-baby like that. Master Sidious sure would be evilly thrilled to have an extremely powerful nine-year-old delivered directly to his doorstep on coruscant, with the jedi having to do all the heavy lifting of training the kid. Master Sidious would probably want nothing more than to have this kid be taken in by the Jedi, so he can start grooming a new apprentice.

And Maul, full of spite and an as-yet-undiscovered need to adopt every force-sensitive in sight, decides to deprive Sidious of a potential apprentice. He follows Anakin to Naboo (in this universe, Anakin still wins the podrace, still wins his own freedom), and, after the fighting is over, sees a prime window of opportunity, and kidnaps Anakin right out from under the Jedi’s nose.

(In this universe, Obi-Wan does not cut Darth Maul in half and dump him down the garbage chute- Maul, unwilling to do his master’s bidding any longer, doesn’t go full out against Qui-Gon, doesn’t kill him, and Obi-Wan doesn’t get that grief-and-rage filled boost that helped him dismember Maul last time. The fight ends, the Jedi are convinced that Maul is dead, and Naboo is freed).

Once Maul has the kid, since he’s a pragmatic guy, he also returns to Tatooine and takes the kid’s mom. Maul doesn’t know how to cook, do laundry, tie shoes, or any of that shit. He doesn’t want to have to PARENT the kid, he just wants to train him.

Maul has zero money, and also zero subtlety, so he stomps into Watto’s shop, grabs him by the neck, and says “The boy's mother is coming with me. You will disable her slave chip and let her leave unharmed, or I will squeeze your head off.” Watto complies. For Anakin, this is his first real impression of Maul- storming the junk shop and threatening his former master for the freedom of Anakin’s mother.

Maul is determined to do a better job training Anakin than Sidious did training Maul. Because FUCK Sidious. Maul can be a WAY better Sith than Sidious ever allowed him to be. And since Maul is slowly realizing how... unhelpful... the way he was raised was, he’s determined to figure out how to do it better.

So he reads. He reads training manuals, child psychology books, teaching books, studies on motivation and performance, anything he can get his nerdy little hands on. He learns that frightened children don’t perform well. He learns about “trauma”, and how “trauma” makes it hard to control your emotions sometimes. Well, you can’t have THAT in your ultimate sith apprentice. Okay, so no scaring Anakin and no traumatizing him. Maul quickly realizes that literally everything he does frightens Anakin or his mom, and frightening Anakin’s mom also frightens Anakin (cut him some slack, he’s literally never been in a positive relationship, Maul has no model for any behavior other than “evil abuser” and “subservient slave”).

Maul is not an idiot. He knows he’s not doing it right. He’s reluctant to start teaching Anakin ANYTHING until he knows he won’t accidentally damage his precious spite-apprentice. So he mostly ignores the kid while he reads and learns.

He also observes. Specifically, he observes Shmi Skywalker. Somehow, she seems to be able to interact with Anakin without scaring him. She can even tell him what to do without scaring him. She can teach and correct him without scaring him. And she never physically hurts him at all. Maul is kind of blown away- he didn’t even know it was possible to interact with people like that? HOW does she DO it???

So Maul watches and learns. He practices. Shmi helps, guides him, tells him when he messes up and tells him how to do it better. Maul gets a lot better at restraining his murderous urges. Turns out, if you immediately kill everyone who annoys you, it’s hard to ask them for advice after. The other person Maul gets pointers from is C3PO, the protocol droid the kid dragged along. Maul understands 3PO better than he understands Shmi and Anakin. 3PO is a droid. Maul was raised by a droid. Maul knows how to talk with 3PO, whereas talking with Shmi or Anakin feels like wandering around in a fog full of landmines.

So anyway, Maul and 3PO become unlikely friends, and, as Maul, determined to out-parent Sidious in every conceivable way, learns more and more social skills, emotional intelligence, and interpersonal skills, he truly comprehends how fucked up his own childhood was. There��s rage. There’s grief. There’s murderous desire for vengeance. But there’s also Anakin. Who would be scared if Maul smashed the ship or killed random people to vent his anger. Anakin, who needs something called a “positive role model”, who needs to be taught how to use the Force, and who needs the adults around him to have their shit together. There’s also Shmi, who makes him soup and hot chocolate when he’s feeling bad, and tells him off for breaking things, and who helps him get better at being a real person, and who doesn’t seem to want anything from him other than a general expectation of not hurting her or her son. So Maul deals. He grows. He heals, slowly. There’s setbacks, and gains. And somewhere in there, he starts teaching Anakin how to use the Force.

The problem is, Maul learned to access the Force first through fear and anger. Turns out, it’s really hard to teach someone fundamentals of force usage via fear and anger without first having to traumatize them. So right away, Maul hits a barrier. He doesn’t have any clue how to teach Anakin a different way though. He needs help.

But also, FUCK the jedi. NO WAY is Maul asking the Jedi for help, he hates the Jedi. Maul is still a Sith, he’s just a new, better kind of Sith, the kind that trains apprentices who are gonna kick WAY MORE ASS and be HEALTHY WELL-ADJUSTED PEOPLE while doing it (let him dream, ok?). So Maul starts hauling Shmi and Anakin around the galaxy, seeking out any non-Jedi Force-users they can, to learn Force techniques that the Sith didn’t teach Maul.

They spend time with the Guardians on Jedha, with those weird duck-people from that one episode with Jar-Jar’s girlfriend, with some wacky monks on a tiny island in the ass-end of nowhere, and even some time with a long-lost sith cult in a box system in the middle of the Unknown Regions. Maul learns. Anakin learns. Maul uses what he learns from the other force-users, combines it with what he knows, and teaches Anakin even more. The Jedi and the Sith are really the only two groups who really use the force for Big Impressive Things, like telekinesis and lightning and whatnot, so while the other force groups would have a lot to teach them both, they wouldn’t really be able to teach Anakin how to levitate something. And you can’t be the kick-assiest, bestest Sith Apprentice Ever if you can’t levitate shit. So Maul takes takes all these new techniques, like “being calm and chill when you meditate instead of super pissed off” and “using the Force while not being filled with incredible rage” and “mindfulness techniques” and “who knew you could do cool stuff like floating rocks without having to exhaust yourself by hating everything in existence, including yourself” and applies them to the skills and methods he already has. He and Anakin have to do a lot of fumbling and exploring and mistake-making, but they figure it out. And Anakin learns. And he kicks ass.

When Anakin is 11, Maul hauls him off to Ach-To to dig a crystal out of the roots of an ancient tree. He tells Anakin to hold it and meditate, to let his emotions rise around him, to feed them, to pull them through the crystal, let it resonate, let it take on the shape of his strongest feelings. After all, that is how Maul was trained to bleed his crystals. Maul’s pain and fear and anger yielded him red crystals.

Anakin comes out with yellow. Determination, fierce protectiveness, drive, hunger for justice, righteous fury. That is Anakin’s lightsaber.

Anakin grows up, planet-hopping with his Mom and Uncle Maul in a beat-up freighter with under-the-hood enhancements out the ass (Maul ditched the Scimitar right after Tatooine so his master couldn’t instantly track him down, and Maul and Anakin are both huge mechanics nerds and bond over things like “but what if you put ANOTHER PLASMA CORE IN THE ENGINE”, so this ship is, uh, certainly some sort of thing). Anakin grows up learning a hundred different Force traditions- just about every major Force tradition in the Galaxy (except for Jedi), and more than a few obscure ones. He grows up, tinkering with his droid, learning Juyo from Maul and how to sew a button from his mom. He grows up, beholden to two destinies only: “Help me take down Sidious, because he’s an asshole and a shitty Sith Lord” and “do whatever the fuck you want, because you are a Sith and no one gets to tell you what to do” (”except me.” Shmi interrupts. “Sith Lords still have a bedtime.” “Sith Lords still have a bedtime,” Maul amends, having no desire to repeat what happened when he encouraged a ten-year-old Anakin to ignore all the rules on purpose).

And what Anakin wants to do is what he’s always wanted to do- go back to Tatooine and free the slaves. Maul thinks that a big project like that would be an excellent learning opportunity for Anakin. He also wants Anakin to succeed, so he sits him down and talks logistics. How do you free the slaves without hundreds of slave owners detonating their chips when they hear what is happening? How do you keep them free once you do that? How do you get them jobs, clothes, food, houses? What about the ones who want to leave Tatooine? What about the ones who want to stay? And what about the economic upheaval that will happen when you deprive a whole planet of its cheapest source of labor? When Anakin is fourteen, they start planning.

When Anakin is eighteen, they make their move. Anakin, coordinating with Shmi, who returned to Tatooine three years earlier to organize things on the ground (living with a woman named Beru Whitesun, who is a gateway to the Freedom Path network), activates several massive orbital EMP devices, frying every electrical device on the planet, including slave chips. (The EMPs came from a pirate friend of his mom’s, who seems to do whatever she wants as long as she makes him hot chocolate). All over the planet, lights go out, slave chips fry, and radios go silent. And Shmi’s agents get to work. Ordinary citizens all over tatooine grab their rifles and head out. They meet up with others in their settlement, and the teams sweep the area, following a plan devised by Skywalker and Whitesun. They systematically visit every house in every settlement, city, spaceport, and town that is known to house slaves, and tell the slaves to grab their families and most treasured possessions and follow them.

(Tatooine is a sparsely populated planet- you can count the major settlements on two hands. If it weren’t, this would never have worked.)

Not many slaveowners put up much of a resistance- fifty angry masked people pointing guns in your face tend to make you compliant. The only slaveowner who puts up more than a token resistance is Jabba the Hutt. His resistance, however, lasts about thirty seconds, before Anakin cuts off his head.

Maul meets Anakin at Jabba’s palace, where he’s rounding up the last of Jabba’s cronies.

“No trouble?” Maul asks.

“Nope,” Anakin replies. “You?”

“None.” Maul said. Turns out, it’s like, super easy to take down an entire criminal organization when you can turn up to a meeting of the Hutt family heads, kill them all, and waltz out past all their security forces without breaking a sweat. (Seriously, it’s kind of hilarious how Maul is literally just that good).

“The slaves here are freed?”

“Yep,” says Anakin. Then frowns. “Hold on...” He senses a presence. Big, hulking, simple, and starving. He can sense that, whatever it is, it hasn’t seen the sunlight or been able to move freely in years.

So anyway, that’s how Anakin turns up at Mos Espa at first sunrise, riding on the back of Jabba the Hutt’s pet rancor. “Who’s a good girl,” Anakin says, scratching behind her ear nubs. “You are!” And she is a good girl. Padme (”I just think it sounds like a nice name, you know?”) is very good at dispersing angry slaveowners who look like they might start rioting.

The slaves freed overnight have been gathered together at pre-designated safe zones-mostly warehouses or large buildings that Shmi has been buying up over the years for exactly this purpose.

(The slaves living in remote settlements, at moisture farms and homesteads, didn’t get a visit from the freedom teams. However, Shmi had a plan for them too. She has made overtures to the Tusken tribes. Once she managed to negotiate her way into speaking to one of the leaders without getting killed, she sold them a story, a dream. A revolution. Free the slaves. Transform Tatooine. She doesn’t promise the Tuskens to expel humans from the planet entirely. She promises them equal rights under the law (she also promises the existence of laws in the first place). She promises them the right to raise Banthas, the right to traverse their ancestral lands and the return of sacred sites taken from them, the right to trade, the right to control who passes over their lands. She promises them the right to water and shade. And, she promises them half the seats on the ruling council she plans to set up. And so, on the night the EMPs blow, Tusken raiders visit every homestead on Tatooine (again, there’s only a few hundred, a thousand at most), and kidnap the slaves. Perhaps not the most reassuring experience for enslaved peoples who have been taught their entire lives to fear the Tuskens, and not without reason, but, nevertheless, it is freedom).

As the new day dawns- Tatooine’s first dawn as a free planet- Anakin, Maul, and Shmi know that the easy part is over. Now, they have to house tens of thousands of people currently cooped up in warehouses with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They have to establish and keep iron-tight control over the planet and its settlements, and quash any violent reprisals before they gain momentum. They also have to completely rebuild an economy completely upended by the overnight emancipation.

However, Shmi’s not the only one who’s been busy for the past few years. While Shmi was on Tatooine, planning a revolution, Anakin and Maul were traversing the galaxy, gathering resources, using the Patented Maul Method (TM)- breaking into the headquarters of powerful organizations and threatening to kill everybody in charge unless they did what they said.

As the second sun rises, ships begin arriving in Tatooine’s orbit. Pop-up housing is dropped onto the outskirts of Tattooine’s settlements, the kind that mining companies use to set up new bases on mineral-rich asteroids. The accommodations are small and sparse, but each family has a kitchen, bathroom, beds, and private space. Huge generators are hooked up to cool the new housing. Anakin knows that the already-existing slave quarters, made of stone with no windows and mostly underground- are already built to keep the occupants cool, but he refuses to make the former slave population live in slave quarters. Some of the freed people are moved into Jabba’s old palace, some into buildings abandoned by rich business owners who fled the planet when they saw what was happening. Food, water, medicine, clothes, books, toys, tools, and shoes are deposited. (the Republic’s equivalent of the FBI had been utterly baffled when Galaxy’s three biggest criminal organizations started moving cargo that looked less like a drug trade and more like a disaster relief mission).

Anakin walks among the newly freed slaves, reassuring them- yes, you are free. Yes, you will be fed and housed and clothed as long as you need it. Yes, we will try to find your child/husband/wife/mother who was sold years ago. Yes, you can go home, you can do whatever you want.

He also asks for volunteers. And he gets them. Hardly anyone would say no to the chance to work with the Skywalker, who once was a slave like them, but freed himself and returned, who freed the slaves in one night of glory, and appeared at sunrise riding a rancor.

Anakin sends out messengers, all across the planet. “Tatooine is a free world,” they say. “All slaves are hereby freed, by order of the He who Walks in the Sky. Any slaveowners who, by their own free will, turn over their detonators will not be harmed. Any who resist, will be.” Not many resist.

At the end of that first day, as the suns are setting, once the freed peoples of Tatooine are fed, and given water, and sheltered, Maul comes to Anakin.

“I am proud of you.” He says. “You have come into your power, you have mastered yourself, and so have mastered the Force. You have the freedom and the power to do anything you choose. You are no longer my apprentice. Lord Skywalker, you are a true Sith Master.” Anakin pulls him into a hug. He maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe also feels mildly annoyed that Anakin is a full head taller than him now.

(Sidious would be truly, utterly offended at Maul’s criteria for Sith-Lord-ness. “THAT’S NOT SITH” he would have said. “THAT’S BARELY EVEN DARK SIDE ADJACENT, YOU ARE DILUTING OUR THOUSAND YEAR HERITAGE-” but Maul wouldn’t care about Sidious’ stupid opinions, anyway).

And Anakin and Shmi get to work. They employ the newly freed people of Tatooine, constructing permanent houses, tearing down slave markets, building critical infrastructure. Anakin pays them more than a living wage, thanks to the extremely deep pockets of Crimson Dawn. He brings in doctors and teachers, and guarantees healthcare and education for all who want it (whenever one of Crimson Dawn’s higher-ups says “wait, why are we dumping massive amounts of money into this one random-ass planet?” Darth Maul just casually sidles up behind them with his lightsaber until they remember that he can literally just show up anywhere, at anytime, and kill them unless they do what he says. If Maul’s busy, he sends 3PO instead- 3PO’s been outfitted with about ten times as much weaponry as is legal, and can be very convincing when he wants to be).

While Anakin works on infrastructure and supporting the freed peoples of Tatooine, and unfucking the economic trainwreck they caused, Shmi and Beru work on the government. They write down a few, very basic rules-Tatooine is to be ruled by a council of people, half of whom will come from the Tusken tribes, all of which shall be selected by fair and free election. All citizens of Tatooine shall have the right to vote in these elections, and the right to vote shall be guaranteed to all- except for those who have ever owned or sold a sentient being. (it was a huge debate in the Lars-Whitesun-Skywalker household, this matter of restricting voting rights. In the end, it was decided that slaveowners, and ONLY slaveowners, were to be the sole exception for universal suffrage). Every citizen of Tatooine is guaranteed access to food, medicine, and water, and has the right to have their grievances addressed by the council.

Shmi works quickly to gather her council- she knows she has to do it fast, to prove to the Tuskens that she is as good as her word. The first elections are chaotic, and perhaps not completely non-violent, but in the end, there is a council of twenty representatives, with Shmi Skywalker representing Mos Espa.

The Council proceeds to have raging- and occasionally violent- debates about the structure of their future government. What rights to guarantee citizens. Should they have a court system? What about a financial system? How are they to guarantee water, food, and medicine to everyone? What even are taxes?

The Rebuilding of Tatooine is long, and hard, and contentious. There are arguments and rage and fighting- the repatriation of traditional Tusken lands is especially fraught. But Shmi promised, and so she makes it happen (Anakin and Padme may have helped too). Maul, for his part, keeps training Anakin, and keeps managing the criminal underworld with a careful balance of death threats and actual death, but mostly stays out of the way of Anakin’s Senior Project.

Soon, Anakin is able to re-purpose the pop-up housing, since most people have moved into traditional Tatooine-built homes, suited to the environment. The newly restructured economy is tentatively taking its first steps, and Tatooine’s baby government is becoming less and less dependent on intergalactic criminal funding (partially thanks to Anakin confiscating the entirety of Jabba’s personal fortune). He spends a lot of time in Council meetings, trying not to scream at people while also trying to stop Padme from eating them. The Council debates what is next for Tatooine, and eventually, they vote to petition the Republic for membership. Tatooinians, as a people, including the Tuskens, are fiercely independant, but, as Shmi points out, joining the Republic would guarantee them to certain things like humanitarian aid, a voice in decisions affecting interplanetary trade routes and taxation, legal legitimacy and the right to call on the Republic for aid should their sovereignty ever be threatened. Most importantly, slavery is illegal on all Republic planets, which means that if any slave-owning organizations ever pushed in on Tatooine, there would be another (much better funded) organization to call on to help quash it.

The Republic requires that a petitioning planet’s head of state visit the Senate on Coruscant to ask the Senate for entry into the Republic. The Council, grumbling, re-jiggers their constitution to allow for a “chief councilor”, and promptly elect Anakin to the position (”Fuck me,”) Anakin says. Maul laughs at him, then sobers and tells him to be careful on Coruscant (”My former master lives there.” he says. “Mind your shields, and do not let him know your true nature. You are not yet ready to take him on, and you have your planet and your people to think of.” “Yes, Uncle Maul.” Anakin says. “I will be careful.”).

Anakin shows up in the Galactic Senate, sandy robes, uncombed hair, and half smirk on his face. “I am Anakin Skywalker, free person of Tatooine,” he says. He presents the case for Tatooine’s admittance to the Republic in a booming, confident voice, drawing on his inner strength- his righteous anger and determination to ensure his people’s future- to keep his voice from wavering.

There are grumbles. Muttering. No Senator wants to be the one to blatantly say “no”- it’s a sort of miracle story, Tatooine, the little planet that rose up and threw of the shackles of slavery and now wants to join the Republic- the exact sort of mythos that the Republic itself is built on. It’s bad PR to vote against that little planet. But at the same time, Tatooine is a sandy, useless dustball that’ll need fiscal support from the Senate, with nothing to offer in terms of economic value. Many Senators are debating with themselves, not whether or not to say “no”, but how to vote “no” without losing ten points in approval ratings.

Until the Senator from Naboo, a diminutive woman who somehow reminds Anakin of his rancor, stands up. She gives an impassioned, off-the-cuff speech, reminding the Senate of how her own planet had thrown off the shackles of oppression not ten years ago, how the Republic was founded by planets like Tatooine, and how, most importantly, they had no legal basis to deny them entry, and if the Senate voted no, Naboo’s lawyers would litigate the issue six ways from taungsday- which, due to a clause in the Senate’s constitution that forbade them from passing legislation while the issue of a planet’s admittance to the Republic was on the floor, would effectively paralyze the Senate until the courts made a ruling. And, as Padme made sure to emphasize, if the court’s decision was not favorable, she would appeal. She could feasibly stop the Senate from doing anything for years, if necessary.

Tatooine is admitted to the Republic.

“Two Senators,” Anakin demands. “In order for my people to be fairly represented, my planet requires two Senators.” When complaints are made, Jar-Jar Binks threatens to explain the complicated dynamics of a planet attempting to grapple with a colonial past. He doesn’t have to. Tatooine gets its two Senators.

Anakin meets with Senator Amidala in her office, to thank her.

“Of course,” she said. “I remember a little boy who helped free my planet- how could I not help you when you needed it?”

“Uhh, thanks, yeah, that’s, really nice of you. Like your hair. Which is nice. In an objective sort of way,” Anakin says, because there is no universe in which Anakin is not a complete idiot in front of Padme. “I named my rancor after you,” he blurts.

Before Anakin is scheduled to leave Coruscant, the Jedi send a knight to scope out the new planetary leader. Obi-Wan Kenobi shows up at Anakin’s hotel room, and goes “Oh. It’s.... you.”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin grins. He only knew him for about two days when he was nine, but he still greets him like an old friend, like a brother. They fall into easy, teasing conversation. “I thought you were dead, I confess, after you disappeared from Naboo,” Obi-Wan admits. “I am truly sorry that I was unable to fulfill Qui-Gon’s promise to train you as a Jedi Knight.”

“That’s ok,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively. “I got trained as a Sith instead.” Then he freezes. Oops. He was not supposed to say that. Maul would be so disappointed in him.

“Beg pardon?” Obi-Wan says.

“I, uhh, got trained, as a, uh, sift...er? Instead? A sand sifter? I sift sand for a living?”

“You said Sith.”

“No I didn’t, I definitely said sift.”

“No, you said Sith.”

“I definitely did not.”

Anakin changes the subject, and Obi-Wan lets it drop. He’ll tell the Council, of course, but he honestly cannot fathom the concept of this kid being a Sith. He senses nothing Dark about him- well, at least no more dark than is present in any sentient. Besides, it’s not like there are any Sith Lords around anymore, ever since he killed Maul (luckily, Obi-Wan doesn’t see the picture in Anakin’s wallet, a candid shot 3PO took in the cockpit of their family’s ship. Fifteen-year-old Anakin, at the controls, hyperbrake still on with his hands on the hyperdrive lever, Maul, standing behind him, hands gripping Anakin’s seat and face distorted half-way through a panic-induced rant about flight safety, and Shmi, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, laughter on her face and knitting needles in her hands).

Anakin contacts his mother, tells her the good news. The Council, moving with alacrity, elects Tatooine’s first Senators. And four days later, one year after the Dawn of Freedom, Senator Shmi Skywalker and Senator Ooutrigh (a Tusken warrior) of Tatooine arrive on Coruscant and address the Senate for the first time.

Of course, while Anakin has been growing up, planning for Tatooine’s future, and annoying the shit out of Maul, Palpatine’s own plans have continued apace. Barely four months after Tatooine is admitted to the Republic, Obi-Wan finds himself in an arena on Geonosis. The battle goes much differently this time, partially due to the fact that Anakin has retrofitted the cargo bay of his family’s ship to house Padme (the rancor, not the Senator), and descends onto the Arena sands just as Yoda and the Clone Troops arrive, and deposits both Padme’s (the rancor, and the Senator) into the melee.

“Hi, Obi-Wan!” Anakin calls, whipping out his lightsaber to deflect the hail of blaster bolts (Maul would disapprove, but Maul isn’t here, he’s ten clicks away, chasing down the Jedi dropout Sidious replaced him with).

“Anakin, what the FUCK” Obi-Wan says, staring at Chief Councilor Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine, riding a rancor and swinging an honest-to-Force yellow lightsaber.

“Master Yoda, what the FUCK” Anakin says, later, after the battle is over, when he finally gets Yoda to answer his questions about the clone troopers. “You found out about an entire-ass army of slave child soldiers commissioned AND PAID FOR by one of your own council members, and your reaction is ‘oh thank goodness, now we have an army?’ What the FUCK is WRONG with you?!” Yoda tries to explain to Councilor Skywalker that the situation was dire, they’d had no choice, but Councilor Skywalker just keeps repeating “AN ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS” at him. “No choice, we had,” Yoda says yet again.

“BULLSHIT, you had no choice!” Anakin yells. “You could have chosen to not use the entire army of slave child soldiers that you legally own!”

“Let Kenobi and the others die, you would have? Hmm?”

“PROBABLY, YEAH!” Anakin hollers (”Thanks,” mutters Obi-Wan). “Sometimes the choices you have all really suck, but you still have to make them! You can’t just pretend you didn’t have any options, you HAD OPTIONS, and you chose the one that involved using a SLAVE ARMY OF CHILD SOLDIERS.” He gestures behind him to the battlefield, where clone troopers and medics are moving amongst the bodies, white and red stark against the sand, tallying their dead brothers.

Yoda shakes his head. “emotional, you are, young Skywalker.” he said. “Cloud your judgement, your feelings do.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking emotional!” Anakin practically screams. “I have personal beef with slavery, so excuse me if I feel emotions about it. Your problem is that you’re able to use an ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS and not feel bad about it! Your lack of emotions is clouding YOUR judgement!” He stomps off. Yoda shakes his head. Skywalker is young, and too close to the issue of slavery to really have perspective on it. He does not understand. It was a great loss to the Jedi Order when the Council rejected him, all those years ago- if he had been trained as a Jedi, he would have learned to put aside his emotions about slavery, and he would have understood why it was necessary now. If Anakin could have heard what Yoda was thinking, he would have turned right back around, picked Yoda up, and punted him like a limmie ball.

Anakin and Maul return to Tatooine. Maul offers to assassinate the entire Jedi Council, but Anakin says no. He’s still fuming about his conversation with Yoda. He knows he gets emotional. He knows that Yoda isn’t entirely wrong- he knows he lets his emotions cloud his judgement sometimes. It’s something he’s worked hard on, over the years, him and Maul. How to take a step back from the emotions howling in your head, and how to view the situation without them getting in the way. And what kinds of situations you should let your emotions guide you. Anakin thinks he’s damn well entitled to strong emotions about slavery.

Short of declaring war on the entire Jedi Order, Anakin doesn’t know what to do about the Republic’s slave army. The Tatooine Council releases a public condemnation of it, explicitly calling it slavery and calling for the clones to be freed. The Council seriously debates joining the Separatists, until Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor) and Shmi look in-depth at the Separatist Council, which is buried deep in the pockets of corporate interests. Shmi files a lawsuit, under the Republic’s anti-slavery legislation, suing for the freedom of the clones. It’s a battle of miserable inches, and meanwhile, the war rages.

With Dooku gone, Sidious’s only means of controlling the Separatists is through Grievous and Ventress, both of whom are loose cannons whose loyalty (and competence) he seriously doubts. It’s frustrating for him, and not necessarily better for the Jedi and their army (of slave child soldiers). Sidious needs to keep the war in careful balance, neither side gaining too much ground, to draw it out and grind the Jedi down and manipulate their public image until he can heap all the blame on them. Without Dooku to pass down his orders, he has no way of keeping a firm check on the Separatist Council, and the Seps are in serious danger of completely overrunning the Republic. The droid army is fifty times as many as the clones, and the Separatists have the Trade Federation, the Banking Clans, and all of the major military tech corporations on their side. Honestly, it’s a testament to the Jedi and the Clone Army that they haven’t lost the war in the first month.

Speaking of that first month, Anakin doesn’t spend long on uninvolved in the war. Scant weeks after Geonosis, the Separatist Army threatens to roll right over Tatooine on their way to gaining control of the Outer Rim Hyperlanes. Tatooine has no army, doesn’t even have a police force. It has no fleet, no orbital defenses, and the droid army headed their way has ten times more droids than there are guns on the planet. The Council faces a choice. Ask the Republic to send in the GAR to defend them- ask for an army of slaves to be sent to die on Tatooine, to stain the sand with enslaved blood so soon after Tatooine clawed her way to freedom, or do nothing, and almost certainly ensure the annihilation of Tatooine and her people. To die, or to live by the blood of slaves who died for you. It’s not a pretty choice.

In the end, the choice is taken away from them (and perhaps it’s a kindness, that they weren’t forced to choose, perhaps it’s the coward’s way out, but it is what it is). A GAR cruiser shows up in orbit, and the Council is hailed by a man identifying himself as Captain Rex, commanding officer of the 501st legion of the GAR.

“The Republic sent you here?” Anakin asks, incredulously.

“Well, not exactly.” Captain Rex hedges. “The 501st is due for leave on Kamino, but the hyperdrive was making funny noises, so we decided to stop off in the nearest Republic system to check it out.” Rex shrugs. “If a bunch of tinnies just so happen to show up, it’s not like we’ll just sit back and watch.”

“Why are you doing this?” Anakin asks the clone captain, once they’ve got him on planet and in the council room. He’s got a lump in his throat, and his eyes are stinging. The 501st has no Jedi on board, no natborn officers, and no orders to go to Tatooine. Rex and the 501st showed up here of their own free will. Because they wanted to. To defend Tatooine.

“Geonosis.” Rex says. “On Geonosis, you saved the lives of over two hundred of us. Including me. We couldn’t stand by and let your planet fall to the Separatists, Councilor Skywalker.”

After the battle, during the cleanup, when Tatooinians are passing through the rows of injured, giving out water- giving out life- Rex tells Anakin the other reason.

“We all know about Tatooine, sir.” He says, quietly. “A bunch of slaves who stood up and said “no,” and took their freedom.” He shrugs. “Stories like that, it gives us hope. For the future.” He fixes Anakin with a stare. “If we let that hope die, we die too. Tatooine cannot fall.”

That is the first time Anakin and Rex fight together. Somehow, when the 501st leaves Tatooine, Anakin goes with them- officially, as a consultant/observer, appointed at the request of Senator Skywalker to observe the GAR and monitor the health and wellbeing of the troopers. Unofficially, Anakin and Rex become a lethal team, making the 501st one of the most effective legions in the Galaxy. Anakin isn’t dumb. He knows he’s being a massive hypocrite, running around with an army of slave child soldiers. Rex, however, insists that it’s different.

“First of all, we asked you to come with us.” he says. “Second of all, it’s not like you staying behind would have made any difference in our situation. And besides, scrapping clankers isn’t the only reason I asked you to come with us.” Anakin raises an eyebrow.

And Rex introduces Anakin to his older brother, Cody, commander of the 212th (Anakin is happy to see Obi-Wan again, but appalled to meet Obi-Wan’s fourteen-year-old togruta padawan, because why would you put a CHILD in a warzone, in a COMMAND POSITION). And Cody brings Anakin in on The Plan. The clones will not remain slaves forever, and they will not wait for some elusive promise of gratitude after the war is over. They will take their freedom, and they will defend their own, and they’re asking Anakin, who freed the slaves of Tatooine, to help them do it.

“So basically, you want me on as a consultant.”

“Basically, yeah.” Cody says. “And also as a guy with a lightsaber who can leap fifty feet into the air and dodge blaster bolts. Those are always handy to have around.”

So Anakin and Rex and Cody, and Cody’s small circle of commanders, lay their plans. And in the meantime, there’s a war to fight. Shmi’s still on Tatooine, but Maul comes with Anakin and the 501st. He and Rex get along like a house on fire, but you wouldn’t know it from watching them- they do nothing but argue and needle each other. Rex sarcastically calls Maul “Commander Maul” because it pisses him off so much, and it catches on with the whole legion. Maul constantly mutters about murdering and/or poisoning Rex.

But after Ventress almost chokes Rex to death, and breaks into his mind to make him do her bidding, Maul doesn’t leave Rex alone for a week, and clutches his hand tightly in the medbay. Rex doesn’t mention it, so neither does Anakin.

Padme, on the other hand, makes no secret of how much she loves Rex (the Rancor, not the Senator, though she likes him too). Padme seems to have concluded that Rex is some sort of long-lost hatchling, and can be seen chasing Rex down the hangar bay, trying to corral him into the nest she’s constructed in the corner reserved for her. Rex gets used to surprise cuddles from a massive predator.

The Jedi Council are at their wit’s end with Skywalker, but their hands are full and honestly, he’s a benefit to the war effort, so they assign Obi-Wan to “supervise” the legion, and leave them to it. Obi-Wan and Anakin strike up a deep friendship, unfettered by the baggage that comes with being master and padawan. Obi-Wan finds himself having serious questions about the Jedi’s role in the war, since Anakin is not at all shy about challenging him on the whole “slave army of child soldiers” thing. Obi-Wan is also, quite frankly, too busy to effectively teach a padawan, and by this point, he knows that Anakin’s had some sort of Force training. He’s fought beside him enough to be confident in his skills, and often sends Ahsoka on extended missions with the 501st, and explicitly begs Anakin to help him fill in the gaps in her training. Anakin obliges enthusiastically.

Of course, Maul helps train her too. Obi-Wan shows up on the Resolute one day to pick her up, and asks how her training’s going.

“Great!” She says. “Skyguy’s weird uncle is teaching me jar’kai-”

“Anakin has an uncle?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. “Who knows jar’kai?”

And so Obi-Wan and Maul meet once again. And Obi-Wan is just absolutely pole-axed.

“Darth Maul?” He splutters. “Is your uncle?”

“Not biologically,” Anakin shrugs. “He practically raised me, along with my mom. He taught me everything I know about lightsabers and the Force.”

“...”

“...you did say Sith, Anakin, you bastard, sand-sifting MY ASS-”

“Oh, it’s you.” Maul says. “I won’t kill you, but only because Anakin likes you.” Obi-Wan throws up his hands.

Somehow, Obi-Wan and Maul come to an understanding. Somehow, Obi-Wan doesn’t turn him over to the council.

At one point, a giant of a zabrak, easily eight feet tall, with skin a poisonous yellow, shows up, claiming that Maul is his brother, and that he’s here to bring him home to Dathomir. Maul takes one look at Savage and goes “Fuck that”. “I will train you in the ways of the Force,” he says. “I can show you power like you’ve never wielded before.” he says. “You shall be a great and feared Sith Lord,” he says. “Have some hot chocolate, you look cold,” he says. “Put on a sweater.” Savage, slightly bemused, comes to terms with the fact that he’s just been adopted.

It’s Maul who figures it out, of course. How could he not? He was raised by Sidious. He knows how devious he is, how his plans have layers upon layers, backups upon backups, contingencies stacked from here to the Outer Rim. Once Sidious moves, you can be sure that any reasonable outcome will be in his favor, because he has completely engineered the situation before you were even aware it existed.

The Sith caused the war and are playing both sides. The Sith caused the clones to be commissioned (these things are trivially easy to figure out, if you’re paying attention). The Sith want the Jedi dead.

“Contingencies,” Maul mutters. “It’s always a trap, and there’s always contingencies.”

When he finds the chip in Rex’s head, he shakes with rage and refuses to talk to anyone, fearing, for the first time in years, that he will lose control and hurt someone he loves. It is Rex who talks him down, who manages to get close to him, who embraces him and lets him cry on his shoulder, then scream and rage and punch the walls. When Maul is able to explain, Rex has to choke back his own terrified, horrified sobs. He holds them back, and calmly looks at Maul and says “What are you going to do about it?”

The surgery, they discover, is simple enough. An astromech can do it in two minutes (C2PO can do it in seventy seconds, and Artoo can’t stand it). When Anakin is told, he goes quiet for a minute, and when he looks back up, it is not Anakin, Rex’s friend, Maul’s kid, who is sitting at the table in the briefing room. It is He Who Walks in the Sky, Huttslayer, Breaker of Chains, who looks back at them. Anakin Skywalker has always wanted nothing more than to free all the slaves. And Anakin Skywalker’s destiny has always been to do what he wanted.

They tell Cody. They modify their plans. They quietly contact medics throughout the GAR, and Artoo quietly sends the details to every military astromech he trusts. When the army is safe from Sidious’ control, Anakin, Rex, and Maul conspire to lure him off of Coruscant. Maul takes over Mandalore, exiling the duchess and announcing a New Sith Empire. Sidious shows up, declaring that Maul has become a rival, disowning his former apprentice and attacking him, with intent to kill. Savage loses an arm. Maul almost loses his life. But as he lies on the ground at Sidious’s feet, arms trembling with the effort of holding the parry keeping Sidious’ saber from his throat, he hears “We’ve got the face shot! Go, go go!” in his earpiece. Gunfire, real slugthrowers, difficult to block with a saber, erupts around him. C3PO and his arsenal, along with Fives, Jesse, and Echo, the 501st’s best ARC troopers, open fire on Sidious. The Sith is forced to back away, raising a hand to stop the bullets in midair. Maul leaps to his feet, and Anakin joins him, lightsaber drawn.

The fight is quick, but brutal. Maul’s hands threaten to tremble with terror, facing down the horror of his childhood, the monster whose treatment of him is woven fundamentally into his psyche, whose shadow has haunted Maul all his life, and still invades his dreams. But he reaches out to his family, to Rex, beside him, steady, full of faith in him, to Anakin, a blazing sun of love and anger, a shield of raw power, and to Shmi, all the way in her Senate offices on Coruscant, cool and calm and soothing like a desert spring as ever-present as the stars. His hands do not tremble. He raises his lightsaber against his master, beside the blade of his son. Together, they beat the Sith Lord back. Anakin binds the Sith’s blade, knees him in the ribs, and while Sidious is thus occupied, Maul cuts his head off.

“You were a terrible parent,” he pants, and spits on the corpse. Then, he collapses, and Rex is there to catch him, and Maul clings to him and shakes, and cries. Anakin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, and Rex pulls him in with a look, and together, they surround Maul, a bulwark against the rest of the world, a safe circle for him to fall apart for a little bit. At some point, one of them unstraps the small camera that Maul had been wearing on his chest. Ahsoka has, at that point, already sent the footage to every major news office on Coruscant.

That evening, plastered all over the galactic news, is a video of the Chancellor himself, showing up on a neutral world and attacking its sovereign leader, wielding red lightsabers of all things. And it’s obviously the Chancellor; there’s a clear shot of his face when he knocks Mandalore’s ruler to the ground and the camera gets a good view right up into his hood.

It’s a massive scandal. One tabloid shows the footage with a little counter in the corner, counting up every treaty and galactic law that Palpatine violates onscreen. The only thing that saves Palpatine from impeachment and arrest is the fact that he’s already dead. Inquiries are launched, investigators are sanctioned, documents and hard drives and testimony are subpoena’ed. Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor), spearheads the investigative committee, and within a month, they’ve uncovered decades worth of bribes, backroom deals, contracts with droid manufacturers, clear evidence of Palpatine authorizing Republic funds for weaponry that went straight to the Separatists, and even communication records between the Chancellor and the two military leaders of the Separatists. Grievous and Ventress go into hiding (the Tales of Grievous and Ventress, unlikely buddies forced on an intergalactic road trip on the run from the cops, is a story for a different absurdly long post at 3am). The Separatists break down in chaos, and the war grinds to a halt. In the middle of all the political hurricane, Cody enacts his plan, and the entire GAR simultaneously deserts, and fucks directly off to Tatooine. This ignites another scandal, with Senators calling for Tatooine’s expulsion from the Republic. Shmi stands in her Senate Pod, hands tucked into her roughspun sleeves, listening attentively while Senator Burtoni of Kamino accuses her of theft.

“If Tatooine does not return the stolen military assets, the Senate may sanction the use of force!” the Senator from Ryloth threatens.

“Pardon me,” Shmi says, “May I ask what army the Senate is planning sending to invade Tatooine? I was under the impression that the only Republic army was already there.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence.

In the middle of the shitstorm, before Shmi is arrested and Anakin declared an enemy of the state, Shmi’s lawsuit finally receives a ruling. And just like that, the clones are legally free. And the judge orders the Senate to pay reparations. Anakin cackles with glee when he hears.

Rex and Cody, with the full support of the people of Tatooine, begin the long, hard, work of resettling their brothers and building a life for the vod’e. Shmi files a lawsuit against the Zygerrian Empire. Savage receives a new arm, courtesy of Anakin, who may or may not have added a few extra utilities to it. Ahsoka is knighted, and controversially invites Anakin to be present at the ceremony, along with Obi-Wan. Maul admits, very quietly and where only Rex can hear, that he doesn’t actually want to poison him. “I know,” Rex says, smiling at him. Anakin, meanwhile, finally marries Padme, the love of his life (the Senator, not the Rancor).

And in Mos Eisly, there is a stone slab, pulled from a crumbled wall and stuck upright in the ground in the middle of the square. No one knows who put it there, but someone carved fifty-seven names into the stone. The fifty-seven names of the clone troopers who died defending Tatooine from the Separatist army, at the beginning of the war. The last slaves to spill their blood on the sands of Tatooine.

#maul adopts anakin #and invents a new kind of sith #which is almost nothing like the old kind of sith #just co-opts the name really #rex/maul #kinda? it wasn't on purpose it just happened #my writing #maulusque's writing #might slap this up on ao3 later #we'll see

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mistabullets · 4 years

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Okay! Imagine! Mista with a S/o that IS Bruno's little sister

> As Bruno’s sister, you respect and appreciate your fratellone.

> He made sure to give you plenty attention when the two of you were younger and in a way, he’s very protective of you. When your father became disabled from the gunshot wounds, Bruno basically raised you and made sure you continue your education. Growing up, it eventually clicked that your older brother was working for the mafia. How else can such a young man his age able to afford your schooling, the nice apartment complex, and your father’s hefty medical bills?

> It made you worried. What if Bruno accidentally cross the wrong people? What if he never came home? You offered to find work, drop out of school, or just do something to ease the burden. You even offered to join Passione but your brother particularly seethed at the idea. “Under absolutely no circumstances will you be doing that, rella. Do me a favor - promise me you will not associate with anyone else in Passione. Am I clear?”

> Swallowing nervously, you promised. He even made you pinky promise.

> Life moved on. Your father passed and Bruno became more committed to his work as he rose through the ranks. Eventually, Bruno found you a nice place in town and paid for your tuition for school. Your essentials were covered. He even made you change your last name so you weren’t associate with him in anyway or form. Bruno always made sure to call you once in day and check in - he was such a mother hen. But you wanted to try to live independently! So you picked up a part time job, perhaps at some cafe, bakery, or restaurant. You didn’t tell your brother about it, since he would throw a fit and tell you to focus on your studies.

> That’s how you met him.

> He was a frequent customer and was quite the looker. A toned body, sun kissed skin, warm dark eyes, and curls peaking out of his hat. He always bought a lot of food - like he had a whole family to feed. But you never questioned it because he was so friendly, maybe a bit too eccentric but endearingly so - sometimes you would sneak him an extra of his favorites. You eventually became aware of his phobia of four and made sure not to give him four of anything. Weeks later, you were bold enough to write your number on a napkin when he made a passing comment how it sucked being single.

> He gave a lopsided smile and asked for your name. You kindly gave it to him and he told you his name. “Guido Mista. I’ll call ya later tonight, Y/N! Maybe we can set up a date or somethin’?”

> When you arrived him, you were eager to receive his call and was pleased when your heard your phone ringing. Eventually, you did set up the date. That date became multiple dates. He started coming over to your apartment and staying the night. It was safe to say the two of you were an item now. There were some questions you would like to ask; why did he have a gun? Why did he talk to himself a lot? How come sometimes he would smell like... iron and death? And god, how much could this man eat? But you assured yourself that it was nothing too serious to fret over. You were just over analyzing.

> Bruno figures out pretty quickly you had a boyfriend and wanted to meet him. But you were quite worried about introducing each other. Your brother was essentially your father figure; he will make it obvious if he approves of your boyfriend or not. You kept postponing dates to meet up - it’s not like you didn’t want Mista to meet Bruno but your brother could be nitpicky about if your lover was good enough for you or not. You didn’t want Guido to feel any pressure from your brother. He was already good enough for you and that’s what matters.

> However Mista is more than eager to introduce you to his familigia. “Well, it’s more like, me and five of dudes but they’re particularly like bros to me!”

> After hearing nothing but praise from your boyfriend, you were looking forward to meeting them as well. When approaching the villa, you wondered how six men in their late teens and early twenties can afford to board such an estate. You were greeted by four other men - a pretty blonde with curls and a braid greeted you, a studious young man in green teaching a messy haired with purple eyes, and a brooding man with long silver hair tuning out the world with his headphones.

> “Finally we can have dinner!” Narancia shouts.

> “Narancia, you dumbass, we have a guest here! And we need to finish this problem here!” Fugo exclaims, looking like he wants to stab the boy.

> “Will the two of you shut up? I can hear you through my headphones and our capo is still doing paperwork upstairs!” Abbacchio takes a glance up at you, “You look quite familiar...” he murmurs.

> Giorno leads you to the kitchen and it smells like your mother’s home meals. You settle in a seat right next to Mista and you can hear your stomach growl. “Our capo was expecting ya and took the time out of his day to make this dish! He’s honestly a really good cook when he wants to be. He’s honestly like, the big brother of this group, aside from Abba over there—“

> “Don’t call me that,” Abbacchio sighs, popping open a bottle of red wine. You giggle - despite the chaos and the energy strumming through the air, you can appreciate how homely it is. You’re growing comfortable already, Mista already has a hold of your hand under the table, happy that everyone so far has been welcoming in their own unique way. You’re growing used the all the noises and clattering of plates, you don’t hear the footsteps approaching. You raise your head up to greet the new presence, only to find a familiar face that looks much like your own. The rest of the gang noticed and perks up, wondering why the two of you look so taken aback.

> “B-Bruno?” you ask in disbelief

> “Huh? Ya know Bucciarati or somethin’, bambina?” your boyfriend ask, swallowing nervously.

> “We do. She’s my sister, after all,” Bruno responds, collecting his composure despite Narancia in the background saying “holy shit that’s your sister?” Even Abbacchio lets out a surprised gasp. Mista is glancing at the two of you, back and forth, the similarities of facial structures and eyes now dawning on the gunslinger. What a small world. And you, on the other hand, are now coming to realization that this must be Bruno’s team. So that means... you’ve been dating a mafioso for the past months now - the gun and the smell of iron (no, blood) made a sense now. And you inadvertently broke Bruno’s promise: to not associate with a gangster.

Perhaps after dinner, we can talk about this.” Oh no. Was he angry? Upset? There was something laced with his words. Dinner passed by with awkward silence, despite how delicious the food was. No wonder it smelled so much like home... You held onto to Mista’s hand, as if to reassure him. And while he couldn’t grasp the entirety of the situation, he tried to sympathize with his capo. He understood why you may have been kept a secret - Passione’s underbelly screamed dangerous and someone would definitely try to use you as bait for Bucciarati. After all, Polpo’s suicide was still being investigated and there have been rumors flying around about how suspicious it was that one of Bruno’s subordinates last saw him alive. This double your risk. Not only was your brother a capo for Passione but your boyfriend was gunslinger for mafia as well.

> After dinner, Bruno wants to talk to Mista alone. You dread whatever his verdict will be and wait outside silently, hoping your brother doesn’t force Mista to cut things off with you. To be frank, you didn’t mind Guido being part of the mafia - sure, it was scary to ponder if your loved one was okay and wonder if they’ll come home alive. But Bruno had survived for this long. Guido definitely had the will to do the same. And you doubt this man would wanna put you in active harm’s way! He cried one time for accidentally hitting your face during a tickle fight once so you knew his motives weren’t ulterior.

> Bruno questioned Mista like it was an interrogation. While he knew his underling was a good man at heart, Bruno couldn’t help but worry for his baby sister - that was his only family left. He was surprised to learn the two of you met at your part time job. Bruno specifically told you not to worry about finances! “Listen Bucciarati, ya sis loves ya. She talks ‘bout what a great guy ya are ‘nd how much you’ve done for her. But... you also been makin’ her feel sheltered. She was so nervous ‘bout us meeting. I... I know ya wanna protect her and so do I! But ya can’t be babyin’ her forever. Ya gotta let her make her own choices. So I ain’t gonna break up with her. That’s up to her, for her to decide, ya know?”

> After reflecting on the younger man’s words, he reluctantly agrees with him. Sure, you are his baby sister but you’re an adult and can make your own decision. You can distinguish what is and isn’t safe. Obviously, you’re not that naive. And perhaps with the gang knowing about your existence, that would grant you extra protection if anything were to happen. He sighs, “Fair enough. But if you break my sister’s heart, I will lock you up in Sticky Finger’s dimension. And make sure you protect her. Understood, Mista?”

> Mista particularly beams. “Understood, capo! Thank ya for blessin’, I promise I’ll take care of her.”

> In the end, you continue to date Mista. It definitely takes awhile to adjust - while your brother is understanding your relationship and respects it, he’ll glare daggers at Mista if he’s being a little too touchy during dinners and outings. You thank Bruno for allowing this relationship and apologize for accidentally breaking that one promise.

> He smiles at you softly, finding it endearing how you kept that to heart. “Well, promise me not to do anything stupid and keep up with your studies, alright?” he offers his pinky to you.

> “Alright, I promise!”

> “Oh, I don’t even think about marriage and kids until you’re done with your studies—“

> “Bruno, hush!”

#my writing #mista guido #bruno bucciarati #headcanons #mista x reader #jjba #jojo #jojo’s bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba x reader #lunamoonartist

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americasass81 · 3 years

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Make Her Mine - Chapter Six

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Thigh-Riding, Swearing, Implied Breeding, Oral (female receiving). Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Word Count:- 2,893

Having survived Tony fucking your face as well as the humiliating experience of him washing you afterwards, the shocks just kept on coming when you exited the bathroom to see what he expected you to wear. While he returned from the closet in a t-shirt and sweatpants, you quickly discovered your predicament was much worse than you ever thought. Walking towards the double doors when Tony appeared empty handed, he quickly blocked your way and raised an eyebrow at you before speaking. "Need something darling?"

"Yeah, how about clothes douchebag?"

"You'll get clothes when you need them and when I decide you've earned them. Though I might be persuaded to fetch you something if you'd adjust your attitude." he smirked, as he reached out to run a hand along your cheek. Pulling back and walking to the bed, you dropped onto it and wondered how you had come to be reduced to Tony Stark's pet. Sighing deeply at your dejected form, Tony dropped to his knees in front of you and held you in place when you once again tried to free yourself before looking up at you. "Y/N, surely you must find this constant struggle exhausting. Give in to me and I promise your life will be so much easier. You won't even have any further use for that getaway bag. Kudos on that by the way."

At the mention of your getaway bag, your eyes widened and your hands clenched into fists. "Ah yes, that." Tony smirked, shaking his head at your reaction. "You didn't think I'd just leave it on the New York sidewalk, did you? Don't worry it's safe, though I'm fascinated why you have it. Maybe it's something we can discuss over dinner. Shall we?" he asked, standing back up and reaching out his hand to you. Suddenly realizing that you had spent too much time trying to physically overpower Iron-Man when you should have tried out thinking him, you decided instead to see what information you could wrangle out of him.

"Okay Tony," you said, unclenching your fists and rising from the bed. "I'll agree to dinner and I'll try to adjust my attitude, but may I please have something to wear? It doesn't have to be anything fancy." As if to emphasize your sincerity, you stepped forward and walked into his waiting arms.

Shocked by this sudden change, it seemed Tony did have a weakness for you however and you soon found his arms wrapped around you while his chin came to rest atop your head. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, you failed to notice him checking the data from your nanoparticles and whatever he read seemed to cement this sudden adjustment he'd hoped to see. Releasing you, he quickly disappeared into the closet only to return with a grey t-shirt and blue panties. "Will these do darling?"

"Thank you Tony. They'll do fine." you said, taking them from him while reminding yourself to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Putting on the clothes before he could catch you out or change his mind, you then looked up at him before placing your hand in his and flashing him your best smile. "So maybe while we eat you can tell me a bit about this place, I didn't really take much of it in when I was trying to escape." Wrapping his arm around you, Tony led you out to the kitchen where he planned on introducing you to his culinary skills.

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

Upon entering the kitchen area and seating you at the island unit, Tony told V.I.R.G.I.L. to release level one lockdown protocols which you discovered opened all the cabinet doors and drawers. Working away on the food as he talked and you listened, you discovered that the house was not only situated at a secluded location but the windows in the ceiling were a result of most of the property being underground. Tony also disclosed that the only two doors off the kitchen led to the garage and his lab. The garage you also learned was the only exit out of the house.

"Mr. . . . sorry Tony, does that not seem like a rather monumental fire hazard?" you inquired, genuinely curious now.

Looking over at you while handing you a glass of wine, he couldn't help the smirk that seemed to light up his face. "Y/N really, think about who you're talking to? If a fire did break out here, the state of the art fire suppression system I designed will kick in and have it out in seconds. Besides, I am Iron-Man. Don't worry darling, you're perfectly safe here."

Choking on his last words, the wine you were drinking hit you wrong and it took him tapping your back to get your breathing back under control. "Thank you, don't quite know what happened there."

"You're welcome. I hope you're okay with chicken and mushroom pasta by the way?" he said, smiling over at you as if he had forgotten that it was in an Italian restaurant you had first refused his company. Now that you had time to really concentrate on the wine, you realized with sickening clarity that it was the same one you drank that night. Placing the glass back on the counter, a shudder ripped through you as you realized there seemed to be nothing he didn't know about you.

Picking up the glass and leading you to the table, he helped you sit before returning with the food and the bottle of wine. Filling your glass while taking a seat on your right side, he placed his hand on yours before speaking. "I'd enjoy the wine if I were you darling. It's the last you'll be drinking going forward. Now let's eat before the food gets cold.”

Thinking through the implications of his statement, you did your best to enjoy the meal while you tried to figure out how to get safely out of his clutches before he could knock you up, provided he hadn't done so already. Deciding to play to his vanity, you complimented him on the meal before asking some of the questions you hoped to get an answer to. "So Tony, you mentioned my getaway bag earlier, may I ask where it is?"

"It's in my safe, not that you'll be needing it. Why does someone your age even have it anyway?"

"Being prepared for anything usually means I'm not surprised by something. Though I guess you're the exception." you laughed, and Tony surprised you yet again when he took your hand and kissed it tenderly. What shocked you most however was the slight tingle that ran through your body at this most romantic gesture. When he released your hand again it seemed it was Tony's turn to ask you a question.

"So would you mind telling me what your plan was? I'm fascinated to know."

"It's not all that exciting to be honest. I had planned to stay at the Waldorf for a week in the hopes your infatuation would dissipate. If it didn't, then my getaway bag, bank account and friends would hopefully get me far enough away from you. Guess that didn't work out too well." you answered while eating more of your meal.

"Like I said, you're wasted where you are and by the way this is not infatuation. I find you amazingly self-reliant for someone your age and I'd like to build a life with you. As I told Happy, you're ingenious." He smiled as if you should be flattered by the compliment, but all you saw was everything he had put you through. Having finished your food, you drank the rest of your wine while you contemplated how best to continue the conversation.

"Tony let's assume for a moment that I'm okay with us, in plain english, what's your endgame? Will I see the outside world again? Will I ever see my friends again?" you asked, noting the irritated look on his face.

Sighing deeply, he took the wine from your hand and gazed into your eyes before speaking. "My endgame as you put it darling, is to get you back to my place where you will be treated like a queen while our little ones grow up safe and loved. If you'll agree, I'd also like to marry you and who knows, hopefully your friends can remain a part of your life."

Hating every word he uttered, but needing to know all the same, your hands left the table and inadvertently rested over your stomach as you stared off into space, thinking. It was only when Tony cleaned up dinner and helped you stand to walk you to the living room, that you regained your focus. "What about my job, my life? Tony, what about the nanoparticles in my system?" you asked quickly, as he sat both of you on the couch and tucked you into his body as if you fit there all along.

"The nanoparticles stay, I'm afraid. Like I said, they have good features and bad. Hopefully with time and trust the unsavory features can be disabled. As for your job and life . . . I won't interfere with your job if you wish to remain where you are. Your life however . . . I would hope you'd be willing to make room in it for our new family." Trying not to tick him off, it was your turn to reign in your temper however once Tony uttered his next words. "Hey perhaps you could tell me about some of the hobbies my money has allowed you to pursue."

"What, you mean there are things the nanoparticles and your Annoying Inquisitor failed to find out about me?"

"Y/N, you know some of the things I've done to get you, as well as what I'm willing to do to keep you. So please make life easier on yourself, park the attitude and tell me some of the things I don't know."

Thinking through what he told you, you sadly realized that at the present time Tony did indeed have the upper hand in all aspects of your survival. Swallowing any retort that would more than likely result in some form of retaliation, you gently freed yourself from his grasp and pulled your feet up onto the couch before answering. "Shooting, Kayaking, Tennis, Hiking, Rock climbing, Restoring Classic Cars and Riding." you quickly rattled off. Seeing the grin that appeared on his face and relating it to the last activity you named, you cringed as you reached forward and slapped him on the upper arm. “Ugh, it's Horseback riding you ass. God is everything with you sexual in nature."

You got your answer however, when he grabbed hold of your arm, pulled you towards him and pressed his lips securely against yours. Finally letting you up for air, he positioned you on his lap with your back resting against his chest and his arms around your waist. "Only where you're concerned darling and by the way I'd never have taken you for someone who was into classic cars."

"I'll have you know your money, as you like to remind me, has enabled me to purchase and restore quite a few classics." you replied, while trying to maneuver away from his roaming hands and lips.

"So how come you didn't just drive off in one of them when you left me three days ago? Would have given you quite the head start."

Feeling your frustration growing you couldn't keep the venom out of your reply. "Ugh I already told you, this infatuation of yours was supposed to blow over which meant I wouldn't have to leave my life, my friends or my car collection behind." With that you struggled once more against his hold but unfortunately it held fast.

Moving you slightly so you now sat solely on his left thigh, Tony pressed down on your hips while simultaneously sliding you back and forth. The friction this created against your clit didn't take long for the now usual sensation to begin building in your core. Added to this the kisses he placed on your neck and down to your shoulders, along with the degrading things he whispered in your ear and the next thing you knew you were reaching for the edge as every muscle in your lower regions pulled tighter and tighter.

"Oh fuck, Tony, stop please. I'm gonna . . . ahh." Now nibbling on your pulse point, all words left you as your release hit you and you felt the moisture leak from you and stain both your panties and Tony's sweatpants.

"Well look at what my dirty girl did. Now it's my turn." And before you could protest or do anything to stop him, Tony threw you down on the couch, ripped your panties clean off and buried his head between your spread legs. Lapping and sucking your now slick folds while shoving two fingers inside you, you couldn't stop the sinful moans that left your lips or the way your hands found themselves entangled in his hair. Smirking against your folds as you gave yourself over to the pleasure building again from his skillful ministrations, it didn't take him long to get you hovering over the edge once more.

And hover you did . . . just as you were about to come for a second time, Tony pulled back and smiled a most devious smile when you looked up at him and whined. "Tony please make me come. Please, please, please." you begged, tears all but falling from your eyes.

Leaning forward to kiss the lips you had previously been chewing on, Tony quickly removed his pants and lining himself up with your entrance, bottomed out as his mouth swallowed the gasp that escaped your lips. "Oh darling, you're absolutely perfect as always. Just imagine how beautiful you will look spread out before me all round with our child."

If you had any retort planned, it was completely lost when Tony shifted your legs and hit that glorious spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Thrusting harder and faster, his hand moved to circle your clit and you felt yourself reaching for the edge once again. This time however you felt the familiar power building inside you and the possible outcome that awaited you. "Tony please . . . slow down . . . ahh, it's too much. I'm gonna . . . Oh god."

"It's okay Y/N, trust me. You're safe darling, just let go. I'll be here with you the whole time." With that, he continued his relentless pounding of your pussy and all rational thought left you as you finally listened to both him and your body and allowed all your cares to melt away. Crying out as Tony pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in while pinching your clit, you once again weren't conscious when your walls clamped his shaft like a vice as rope after rope of warm cum shot out and painted your walls.

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

True to his word, you woke shortly after nestled on the couch with Tony gently stroking your hair. "Hey gorgeous girl, how are you feeling?"

"Okay I guess, even though I've now passed out twice in the past few hours. Perhaps you should consider taking me to a doctor." you suggested, even though you knew nothing would come of it.

"Darling I don't mean to brag, but you and I both know passing out from a powerful orgasm is not something that requires a doctor. Now would you rather a bath or a shower before bed baby?"

"I think a bath might be nice. Wait, am I to assume there's a bath here big enough to enable you to join me?"

"Of course silly girl." he grinned at you as he jumped off the couch and held out his hand to help you up. "I'm surprised and offended you even have to ask."

Taking his hand, you had to grab onto his shoulder instead to steady yourself as you still felt a bit shaky on your feet. Sensing this, Tony quickly and easily picked you up and next thing you know he placed you in the bathroom attached to what was originally your bedroom. "Please tell me you'll behave yourself if I get in there with you." you questioned as Tony filled the bath while you made use of the toilet, not caring that he was right there with you.

"Of course I will darling, scout's honor." he smiled, holding up his hand in a salute.

"Seriously, do you honestly expect me to believe you were ever a boy scout?" you scoff as he lowered himself into the bath before reaching out to help you in.

"No, I don't really expect you to believe anything I tell you. But that doesn't mean I won't spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you." With that he nudged you forward until your feet hit the other end of the bath and then leaned you back to rest against his chest before wrapping his arms around you. Sinking into both his embrace and the warm water, you slowly relaxed for what felt like the first time since this whole ordeal had started. Eventually washing each other and retiring to bed, you closed your eyes and let your cares slip away as sleep easily claimed you.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

#dark!tony stark x reader

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allmightluver · 3 years

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First lines meme

Ooo! 😲 thank you for the tag @justanotherfoolhere !!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines. Tag 10 authors!

I’m incredibly shy so if you would like to do this, I tag you!!

Ah I have some old stories from old fandoms (or side fandoms I should say), but as for MHA, most of my stories are just wips right now. I have approximately 5-6 stories in the works right now, however 3 are just thoughts yet, not written out, 1-2 are RP’s with another person that I’m not sure if I have the ability to share yet 😅, 1 is....extremely, well...NSFW 🙈 even the first line asfkgkka I’m not going to do that one, you’ll just have to read it on ao3 when it’s done 😖

However! I do have a massive story that’s been in the works for over a year now (atm it’s around 57,800 words), I’ve actually gotten stuck on it half way through and a friend is helping me by rping those parts with me. If anyone remembers from forever ago, I talked about writing a story about Toshinori actually becoming addicted to his painkillers, and overdosing during class, that’s this story. I have a good chunk of this written, so to make up for my lack of stories, I’ll post a few paragraphs of the beginning! (I hope that’s ok! 🙈)

((I should note, I don’t normally rp, the ones I’ve done are just with a close friend or two))

So, here’s a few paragraphs of what I’ve been calling “Painkiller” under the read more...

Eyelids sluggishly rise. Each blink seems to be getting slower and slower. And he’s still talking. How the soft furred mammal at the front of their table can speak for hours at a time without so much as a break is a superhuman feat. Of course, the principal isn’t human at all, which probably is how he can accomplish it.

Black eyes glance at the clock on the wall across from him. 1:50 p.m. This was supposed to be a short meeting. A quick briefing on the school’s protection and security upgrades. This is also the time to give feedback on how the procedures seem to be working. It had started during their lunch break at 12:30 p.m., and it’s still dragging on. Snipe as well as a few other teachers that have classes to teach at this time are absent, but the rest of the available staff are present.

Shota massages his eyelids, refraining from gritting his teeth against the stinging, and promptly tipping his head back to apply his eye drops. They’re almost gone, he’ll have to get a refill from Recovery Girl. Shota lowers his head once again, black locks falling back over his face.

He’s exhausted. A full night on patrol and then the morning teaching at UA. He’s done for the day after this, and all he wants is to sleep. He’ll still have to check in with Eri to be sure she’s been ok throughout the day, before he can collapse on his bed.

Eri was still adjusting to living at UA, but seemed to be doing well so far. When he couldn’t be with her, she had another teacher or staff member watching her. Thankfully, there hasn’t been an instance with her quirk going out of control. Yet. He hopes to keep it that way. She’s just starting school, but slowly. She has a lot of learning in just living before she can worry much about academic intelligence. But Shota has no concerns of her being able to catch up to her age and grade level. Eri’s proven to be smarter than they’ve given her credit for. Perhaps wiser in some ways than a kid her age should have to be.

Shota usually teachers her in his spare time. His hero work has decreased due to his stacking responsibilities. Last night was the first in close to a month, and he can feel in his sore muscles that it’s been too long. Thankfully, he can rest tonight, but if Nezu didn’t hurry this conference up he’s going to be pulling another all-nighter. The temptation to pull out his sleeping bag and snooze in the chair he sits is becoming harder to resist.

Shota’s gaze moves across the room at the other occupants.

Mic sits to his right, closest to Nezu. The man’s listening, but one can see the bored expression on his face as he picks at his painted nails.

Midnight across the table seems a bit more focused. Her arms rest on her lap as she listens to the white animal, adding in her thoughts every now and then.

Cementoss and Ectoplasm sit next to her, both relatively silent.

Shota’s eyes flick to the chair next to his left before moving to the closed door at the room’s entrance.

Yagi had been here as well. A few minutes ago, he had politely excused himself from the room and had yet to reappear.

Maybe he made a break for it, Shota thinks with envy. Though he knows it’s a lie.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Number One Hero to duck out of meetings and public places for short periods of time. No one questioned him on it, assuming he had business calls or the like. He was All Might after all, and surely a very busy man.

But now the Symbol of Peace is dead, and still the brief intermissions continue. In fact, they’re increasing in frequency. Shota has high doubts about the possibility of impromptu hero phone calls from the man’s agency, but doesn’t dwell on it.

Everyone, even All Might, has secrets. It isn’t Shota’s job to nose his way into everyone’s personal life.

His sore eyes blink in mild surprise when the door he had been focusing on slides open, and the man in his thoughts shyly stoops his head under the doorway to enter back into the room. Yagi closes the door again and takes his place beside Shota, moving quietly to attempt not to draw attention to himself. But it’s a wasted effort; whenever he’s present, all eyes immediately are drawn to him. Plus, it’s hard to ignore a 7 foot man.

Shota turns away, attempting to refocus on whatever their eccentric principal is speaking about.

For a while, the meeting draws on as usual, Nezu doing most of the talking and the other teachers providing input as they see fit. The way the conversation is leading, it seems like things are starting to wrap up. Finally. The last class of the day starts at 2:20 p.m. and that doesn’t leave much leeway room for any teachers that need prep time.

Shota leans back with a silent sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go check on Eri back at the dorms, and the sooner he can crash. Thinking about anything other is too hard to concentrate on.

Through his sleepy fog, something moves in his peripheral vision. Instinctually looking over to his left, he notices the lanky man next to him has wilted in posture, much like a plant with no water. The haze in Shota’s brain clears only slightly, having something more interesting to observe.

Now actually taking the time to study the other, Shota notices the haphazard blonde mane looks messier than normal. Yagi’s long, sinewy hands are placed comfortably on his lap, though a subtle tremble is running through his frame. A sheen of sweat is starting to form above his brow. Though his eyes remain fixed on the principal, the unfocused haze in the cyan pools gives Shota the impression Yagi isn’t paying attention. The normally bright irises are dull and almost completely hidden in the surrounding black sclera.

He looks pale. Must be sick. Shota lets his attention drift back to Nezu. Toshinori Yagi is a grown adult; he can take care of himself. If he doesn’t feel well, he’ll go home. These thoughts stubbornly go through Shota’s mind just before another pushes itself in.

He remembers the tall man entering the teacher’s lounge only two days after the Kamino incident. Yagi had been completely wrapped in bandages, bruises and stitched up cuts littering his body, and one arm was in a sling. Everyone had expected him to still be in the hospital, and not back to UA for at least a week, maybe two.

Shota recalls the other teachers chastising the ex-hero and trying to convince him to go home, to rest. Yagi had politely smiled, one that made Shota’s teeth grind at the obvious artificial gesture. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, only present to soothe their worries. But Yagi thanked them for their concern. Even then, their coworkers had tried to assist him in any way possible. He had always insisted he was fine, respectfully refusing their help. It became hard for their colleagues to accept when it was obvious the injured man was struggling with even the simplest tasks.

Recovery Girl had made frequent appearances, much to Yagi’s dismay. It was unfortunate his body couldn’t handle her quirk, and he had to heal naturally, so she made it her job to monitor him. She didn’t even try to deny she was only there to check in on him, to make sure he was behaving himself, at least to the miniscule level she could except from Toshinori. She was always disappointed, and expressed so outright. But she could do little to sway him in his own self-care habits, and he always waved her off with another deceptive smile.

If he had forced his straining, overworked, body to comply during that time, what’s stopping him from teaching his class in 15 minutes?

More movement next to him puts Shota’s thoughts on pause. Dark eyes flick over to the older man, being as inconspicuous about his spying as possible. With the black hair covering his face, most people probably can’t tell where he’s looking anyway, and he’s not moving his head at all.

One of Yagi’s arms slowly lifts to his face, resting his sharp elbow on the table. The large and scarred hand covers his mouth, baring his bony wrist and too-thin arm as his sleeve slides down a few inches. The pose might be meant to look like he’s simply resting his chin, gaze still locked on Nezu like he’s listening intently. But sitting this close to him, Shota can see how the tremors in his body have increased, sweat starting to run down the deep crevices of his face in tiny rivers. The glazed over look in those black eyes has been replaced by one subtly emitting a fight or flight expression.

Shota frowns. He’s gonna barf. The pro briefly wonders if he should use his capture weapon to grab the trash can in the corner of the room to prevent a mess on the carpet, or worse, the table.

Before he can act, Yagi’s chair abruptly slides backwards as the retired hero wrenches his body up, fumbles with the door handle, and rushes out of the room as quickly as his unstable limbs can carry him. He barely manages to slam the sliding door shut behind him before he’s out of everyone’s sight, the hasty squeaks of his shoes on the tile floor growing more and more distant.

Nezu pauses at the sudden outburst, all the room’s occupants staring at where All Might had disappeared. The feel of concern weighs heavily in the atmosphere.

Although Yagi had often left before, he always excused himself quietly or snuck away when the attention wasn’t on him. Something this dramatic has never happened.

-----

And we’ll leave it there for now! This is still a wip remember, so things may be changed here and there, but I hope this makes up for my lack of other stories!

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thenightling · 3 years

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In defense of Tom Sturridge (Already!?)

Apparently Tom Sturridge needs defending from our own meager fandom... already...

Disclaimer: Though it is looking more and more likely that Tom Sturridge has the role of Morpheus in Netflix’s Adaptation of The Sandman this has still NOT been confirmed. We are still riding on pure speculation. However, I will defend the man.

Though it is not officially confirmed that Tom Sturridge will be playing Morpheus in The Sandman there are already people in the fandom complaining about the casting. (See the Neil Gaiman’s Sandman Facebook group. The one with over three-thousand-members that I left.)

In this post I will be addressing each and every complaint that I have seen thus far.

And you wonder why they’re keeping the cast a secret from us for so long? This. This behavior would actually be worse if you knew for certain who was in the cast.

When these negative reactions are in regard to who “might” be playing Morpheus, without any actual footage, or even images of him in character, they were wise to keep it a secret from us.

Now, let us begin.

1. “He looks too much like Robert Pattinson.” The hatred of Robert Pattinson is bizarre and irrational. It is as if a great deal of the population cannot separate him from a character they despise. The irony is Robert Pattinson never liked playing Edward Cullen anyway. He did it strictly for the money. And as far as vampire fiction goes, there is far, far, worse out there than Twilight. Twilight is not good but there is worse out there. It seems the hatred of Twilight is almost a knee-jerk reaction- a compulsive raw contempt against anything that appeals to teenage girls. I do not like Twilight but I do not irrationally hate an actor just because he was in the films. So what if Tom Sturridge resembles Robert Pattinson a bit? You’ll condemn an actor because of his bone structure? Because he “Kind of” reminds you of a man who played a character you don’t like? Really? I thought most of this fandom were grown ups.

2. “He’s too young to play Morpheus.” The casting call was for men between the ages of twenty six and thirty six. Tom Sturridge turns thirty-six this year. It’s true that a man in his forties or even a youthful fifties could probably play Morpheus perfectly well and Morpheus did have crows-feet wrinkles in the first issue but to condemn an actor based on his age is merely ageism. In this day and age a man can look any age with the right makeup. Look at the lead in the silent film of Faust, directed by F. W. Murnau (Director of Nosferatu). It’s impressive to know a thirty-six-year-old played elderly and youthful Faust in that film, and that was back in 1926.

3. “He’s too old to play Morpheus.” ...Seriously? What did you want? A CW teenager or early twenty-something college kid as the ten-billion-year-old dream lord? Yet again, I know a man can pretty much play any age with the right makeup. All else is ageism, even my cynical statement about the CW, that’s ageism.

When Lestat the musical was on Broadway the actor who played Lestat was forty, the woman playing his mother was only about two years older than him.

The actor playing Barnabas in the original Dark Shadows was in his forties. The character was (According to Dan Curtis) only twenty-five when he became a vampire. The woman playing his mother was only five-years-older than him.

Tom Welling was still in Smallville as pre-Superman Clark Kent and he was older than the actor who played Superman in Superman Returns. With good acting and makeup age doesn’t really matter.

4. “He’s a terrible actor.” The man has about ten acting credits in total according to IMDB. Most are bit parts and two are from when he was ten and eleven-years-old respectively.

Are you judging him on roles he had before he hit puberty!?

I have my doubts you ever saw him act in anything yet. You’re probably leaping to conclusions because the pictures you found of him are a stoic pretty boy with beard stubble.

5. “If he’s playing Morpheus that’s automatically a deal breaker. I’m not watching.” Okay. Okay, fine. Don’t watch it. You don’t have to. No one is making you watch it. However, you should be aware that Neil Gaiman watched the auditions. He had a say in the casting. If Tom Sturridge is playing him than this is the man HE chose. If Neil Gaiman doesn’t know who should play Morpheus, than no one does. I thought James McAvoy did an excellent job in The Sandman audio drama and I will not automatically assume Tom Sturridge is a bad actor just because there are people pre-determined to hate this.

6. “He shouldn’t be played by a white man. It indicates that The Endless are all white and white people rule the universe.” Morpheus likely will still have his bone-white (not human-white) skin from the comics (and I hope, the black void eyes with star pupils). This was pulled off successfully with the Frankenstein monster in Penny Dreadful, with his own inhuman skin and yellow eyes.

Morpheus’ bone-white skin, improbably thin build, and black void eyes are supposed to be without distinct race. He’s not a human being. He’s not Caucasian. He might be played by a white man, yes, but the actor was chosen based on talent, not racial background.

I saw the casting description. Race was not a factor. Since actual non-human / humanoid entities devoid of distinct racial background were unavailable, the show simply had to make do with a human being, instead. The real Endless were unavailable or refuse to act. You know how temperamental anthropomorphic personifications can be.

7. “He’s not thin enough.” Okay, look. A lot can be done with CG. I don’t want an actor killing himself for this role.

Back in 1976 David Bowie was close to ninety-pounds when playing Thomas Jerome Newton in The Man who fell to Earth. He was so under-weight that the wardrobe department had to buy his clothes in the children’s department of a store. Yes, the character was really that thin in the Walter Tevis novel that the movie was based on. But in the book Newton had hollow bones, like a bird, David Bowie, however, is a human being, not an alien. And Tom Sturridge is a human being, not an anthropomorphic personification.

When David Bowie played Newton he was on a diet mostly consisting of cocaine... He could have easily died. Thankfully Bowie cleaned up later, but he was not in a healthy state when he was in The man who fell to Earth. We do not need a return of The Thin White Duke. Not like that.

For a human to reach Morpheus’ comic book weight- that might require very unhealthy behavior, it would potentially be dangerous. This is something they can adjust with camera tricks and computer effects. He does not need to look like he’s dying.

8. “They should find an actor whose cheekbones stand out.” See above...

9. “He doesn’t look anything like Morpheus.” I am certain you have not seen him in costume yet. Neil Gaiman has (hypothetically speaking). Let us trust the author and believe that his character looks the way he intended. Remember how Henry Cavill went from Superman to The Witcher.

10. “I wanted Henry Cavill to play him.” ... What?

Have you... have you read Sandman? Henry Cavill is under contract to do The Witcher. He needs to stay buff for that role, and you want him to play “rake thin” Morpheus? Yeah, a lot can be done with CG but Henry is an action hero actor. He can act. He’s a good actor. But this is probably not the right role for Henry Cavill.

11. “He looks like an American Youtuber.” He’s not either of those things. Stop judging by appearances.

12. “He’s too pretty to play Morpheus.” Stop judging by appearances.

13. “He’s not attractive enough to play Morpheus.” See above...

14. “He’s too short to play Morpheus.” / “I heard he’s only five foot three.” / “I read that he’s just five foot eight.” According to Google and IMDB he’s 5′10. That’s the same height David Bowie was. That’s average adult male height. If they want him to look taller that’s easily done. Remember, Tom Cruise was The Vampire Lestat.

It’s just lather, rinse, repeat, when it comes to fans. Every adaptation the same thing. “Tom Cruise can’t play Lestat.” (Anne Rice apologized for leading that charge, when she saw him in action). Or “Michael Keaton is too wholesome to play Batman.” or even “Ryan Reynolds should never play Deadpool after what he did in Wolverine.”

People never learn.

Just give Tom Sturridge a chance. The casting isn’t even official yet. And if he is Morpheus- try and wait to actually see how he plays the role before you decide he’s the worst thing to happen to The Sandman. A few publicity photos don’t tell you what he is capable of as an actor. You might be pleasantly surprised.

#Tom Sturridge #The Sandman #Morpheus #Dream of The Endless #Neil Gaiman #Neil Gaiman's The Sandman

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

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A Fitting Finale: Bringing Ian Full-Circle

Is everyone sick of my essays yet? Excellent. Here’s another anyway!

I’ve been trying to put my finger on what it is about Ian’s story in s11 that I love so much. It’s clear that he’s struggling on a number of levels, and he’s certainly spent the first third of the season under so much stress that it’s impacted his moods and marriage. In 11x04, we began to see hints of the tension breaking, and it made me realize that there’s a common trend in Ian’s behavior throughout the series coming to a head in his final act. It’s part of what has him so passionately advocating for Mickey to get a legal job, communicating their need to hammer out the specifics of what their marriage means, and upset at his own employment status.

From start to finish, Ian has been driven by two important motivators: love and fear.

Ian’s deep sense of love and compassion for others is well documented. We know that he will do anything for his family. I’ve mentioned before that Ian is at his best when he’s with them and his worst when he’s not. They’re his support system, and he’s a key part of theirs. They look after each other and rely on one another when the chips are down. They’re all grown up now, Liam being the exception, but those bonds are strong. They’ve matured and branched out to include Mickey, Tami, Franny, and Freddie. Ian’s heart belongs to his family, and he’s given as much of himself as he can to the people he’s been with over the years in whatever capacity they’ve needed him to.

Ian has also always been a fearful character, though not in the manner we typically visualize. He’s strong and motivated, ambitious and sensible, clever and insightful. When he decides that he wants something, he goes for it, from a South Side thug hovering in his orbit to pursuing the highest military accolades despite his small beginnings. Over and over again, we’ve seen him leap into serious and often strange situations in order to achieve his ends or something for the people he cares about. This man stole a water heater from a dead person’s house with his brother and tried to help his best friend hide a body. Certainly, he doesn’t fit the traditional stereotype. He’s not a coward.

But Ian is terrified—of everything:

· Not amounting to anything

· Not being worthy of love

· Being the center of attention

· Fading into the background and being forgotten

· Not being able to help other people or those he loves

· Not having a path

· Not being in control of himself

· Not being enough

He’s never said it. He’s never discussed these issues, except perhaps not having control. That isn’t who he is. That’s never been his way. Maybe we should add fear of communicating too, or fear of being seen as weak.

In s1, Ian makes a lot of brave choices. He comes out to three people, two of them family members, knowing how that is viewed in their neighborhood. When Mickey is after him, Ian takes the battle to his doorstep. He turns his back on an arguably easier life in a nice, middle-class neighborhood and a home with a father who would provide for him to live in the constant struggle to which he has grown accustomed. On the surface, he’s one put together kid. But then there’s Kash. There’s this man who preys on him, a middle child so responsible (and so male) that no one thinks he’d fall into any sort of trap—and Ian is desperate to keep him. He fights Lip over it and so painfully tries to make him understand his perspective, that he’s spending money he should probably be using for things he needs to buy Kash music and baseball tickets, to make him like what Ian does so that they can build their so-called relationship. That Kash is married with kids is unimportant to him; that he’s exploiting Ian’s fear of loneliness and not finding love outside his siblings, unthinkable. We know it. Lip sees it, powerless as he feels to do anything about it. Ian can’t. To date, he never will. He’s blinded by a culture that doesn’t believe such things can happen to males, and until Mickey comes along as a viable outlet for his affections and source of the ones he needs, he’s too afraid to be cautious.

Throughout s2 and s3, Ian makes difficult decisions. They’re not always smart, but it takes great strength to commit to the choices he makes: allowing Monica into his life, voicing even an ounce of his feelings to Mickey, pursuing West Point, and running away. All of them, however, are driven by love and fear alike. He’s vulnerable and needs his mother, the one who slaps Frank for shoving him and listens when he feels alone. She assuages his fears by telling him what he needs to hear: that he can do and be anything. We know there’s a danger in that, especially when she takes him to enlist when he’s nowhere near old enough, but it’s still validating for him. It feeds that need for attention but not too much attention, for understanding but not coddling, for love that originates from someone who isn’t his siblings. We see similar trends emerge: fear of losing Mickey on multiple occasions, fear that he’ll forever be in Lip’s shadow when he receives a letter of recommendation instead of Ian, and fear of never having Mickey’s full affections spiraling into fear of facing his own emotions in the aftermath of the wedding. We’ve seen that Ian runs from what he can’t process. He runs from what he can’t handle. He runs when he’s scared, especially of himself.

It continues repeatedly throughout the series. In s4, Ian is afraid of going backwards and once again losing his position in Mickey’s life. In s5, he’s afraid of being a burden on everyone around him, changing them, and losing control of his own mind. In s6, he’s afraid that this is it: his path and his goals have come to nothing, and he’s doomed to fall into the shadows where no one will ever see or love him. In s7, that fear of himself re-emerges when a patient is hurt on his watch and he has to come to terms with the fact that being better doesn’t mean he’s “cured.” In s8, he’s afraid of the void where Monica and Mickey used to be, and it sends him spiraling into a deeper one he doesn’t fear until it’s too late. In s9, he fears a lack of guidance, an indecisiveness born of having been able to rely on his hallucinations to tell him what to do. His path is gone, and he has no options. And that’s terrifying. Then Mickey is there, and he can put some of his fears to rest until they resurge with the idea of marriage in s10. All of a sudden, he’s back where he was in s5, fearing himself but also what he’ll do to someone he loves.

In s11, we’re seeing an Ian far more like he was in earlier seasons: rigidly devoted to having a plan, knowing what’s coming next, and ticking off certain boxes on the list of things you’re “supposed to do” as a married adult male. He’s spent a lot of this season seeking value in his employment and position in their marriage, and the stress has been dragging him down—quickly.

And it’s no wonder: he has every reason to be scared right now.

The thing about prison is that it is what’s known as a total institution. It is removed from society and, as such, operates under its own social beliefs, values, and norms. Like the military, another total institution, prison involves an initial period of sloughing off roles and identities from the greater society and subsequently being resocialized into a new role set. Upon release, a person undergoes the same process in reverse, and there’s an adjustment period to reintegrate into normal society. We can see that process begin when Ian gets in the car with Lip and shudders a bit, unsettled at the prospect of being outside these walls for the first time in months—going home far earlier than anticipated. For many people, it’s a difficult transformation, especially once they realize the full extent of how your life changes as an ex-convict in the U.S.

Ian doesn’t really get to adjust. From s8 to the start of s11, he undergoes a whirlwind of emotion and change. He literally loses touch with reality, starts a cult, commits a felony, is on the run from law enforcement, allows himself to be captured with one final display, goes to jail, remains unmedicated until he’s bailed out, panics at what his movement became, feels alone in the house as everyone deals with their own business and leaves him to his own devices, seeks guidance from above only to realize it wasn’t what he thought it was, can’t find answers, has warring factions telling him how to plead in court, ostensibly takes a plea deal that requires some amount of time behind bars, goes to prison, finds the love of his life there waiting for him, has to let his sister go, is released without Mickey, gets repeatedly screwed over by a corrupt PO, gets engaged, breaks up (sort of), gets engaged again, sees his wedding venue burned down, gets married, and hurtles straight into a pandemic. That’s… That’s a lot. Being a newlywed in a pandemic is a lot without all the rest of it, but this is what Ian is dealing with going into s11, and he hasn’t had the benefit of a stable readjustment and reintegration period.

He’s drowning.

He’s scared.

He has every reason to be. Marriage is scary, especially if you are so young and so in love with the person you’re marrying. Employment is scary, especially for them, because it could mean the difference between paying the utilities and running out of water. Change in general is scary, especially when it hasn’t done you any favors before.

Add all that to what Ian’s behavior has indicated that he’s been afraid of since the start, and you have a recipe for disaster.

To a great extent, that’s what I think his arc is all about this season: learning how to live again. It’s about not being so afraid of himself that he desperately grasps for any stereotypical structure for married life that he can. It’s about regaining the confidence that has always left him clawing his way to the top instead of letting life beat him down. It’s about finding the happy medium where he and Mickey aren’t doing anything illegal but aren’t stuck in a valueless spiral, scrambling and struggling to pay the bills like when they were kids.

It’s about learning not to be so afraid anymore, and I think that’s a beautiful goodbye for a beautiful character.

#shameless #shameless meta #shameless spoilers #ian gallagher #uh oh #guess what time it is #you bet #it's ian gallagher loving hours #please do not add hate for the writers or JW to my post

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shiny-procrastinates · 3 years

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(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 3

part 2 here

Hello everyone and welcome back to our watch-through of the first season of Magia Record! Last time, we met a trio of Kamihama magical girls, Momoko, Rena and Kaede, and, after Rena and Kaede fighting, Kaede is kidnapped by the “chain monster”, a part of the rumor of the Staircase of Severance. Now, it’s up to Iroha, Momoko and Rena to find and take her back. Will they succeed, or will someone lose their heads? The only way to know is by watching, so let’s get right to it.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record Episode 3

Rather than going back to the plot right away, we are given a flashback of Iroha’s younger sister and two other girls. The brown haired girl has apparently created an eternal motion machine in the form of a toy train, saying something about how adults must be stupid if they never thought of that before, and that toy train proceeds to crash into a pile of books and set fire on them. Good job.

I don’t want to hear this from a gacha game character. Your original work is even more fragile than this!

The megane girl, Nemu, compares the brown haired girl, Touka’s actions to the burning of the Library of Alexandria (dramatic much?) and the two start fighting, with Ui trying to stop them. They’re just like Momoko’s trio on the previous episode, breaking their friendship up and everything.

Once again, it was Iroha’s dream. You know the erasure really went in on it when even the rug is cut in half.

Iroha’s sister had friends at the hospital, so she could get some new clues if only she could find them.

Floof Momoko.

Before going looking for Kaede, Momoko and co. drop by Kamihama Mirena-za, aka. the Coordinator’s. I tried searching if Milena constellation was actually a thing, but the only thing I could find was that there’s a Galileo satellite named Milena. Huh.

The Coordinator had a client, but she’s done right away. We learn that the Coordinator’s name is Mitama Yakumo, but still have no idea what she actually does.

Besides not having a sense of personal space.

Momoko explains that Iroha’s not there to get adjusted, whatever that means, and asks if Yachiyo is there yet. Who’s this Yachiyo though?

Aaawkward.

To no one’s surprise, I guess, since I already said it, but this girl is Yachiyo. And she absolutely ignores Iroha. Rude.

Yachiyo and Momoko start talking between themselves about Kaede’s case. (and MItama’s fixing Momoko’s hair. Cute). It seems Yachiyo is well aware of the rumor of the Staircase of Severance. She pulls out a notebook, and Momoko notes that she’s knowledgeable about these things.

Momoko asks Yachiyo to lend them her help, and Yachiyo agrees to do it, since Kaede is in danger, but adds that she won’t work with people who will only be a burden, looking at Iroha.

...not that she’s wrong, but still rude.

Well, I mean, that might make sense when you’re so op, but you don’t have to say it outright!

Still, Yachiyo has a point: it’d be too dangerous to bring along a weak magical girl to a fight with an unknown enemy. So Mitama offers a solution: why don’t they just adjust Iroha’s Soul Gem?

Mitama does a very short explanation of what “adjusting a Soul Gem” actually entails, and this one short screen tells us the rest. It’s basically what let Momoko and Rena do that joint attack earlier. I wonder if this was even long enough on the screen for the people who watched this on tv to read it.

Momoko says that Yachiyo should have no complaints as long as they do that and Yachiyo is like “yeah, whatever”.

...now that I think about it, what is Mitama doing here?

Continue? Iroha hasn’t sacrificed anyone tho.

...oh, I forgot we don’t get to see Iroha getting adjusted.

So, our girls are now at the rumored stairs at Kamihama University Affiliated School. Leaving aside Momoko and Rena, since they are students there, one has to wonder how exactly did Iroha and Yachiyo manage to get up there without being found. This school’s security is lacking!

While the girls run up to the rumored Staircase of Severance (this is so annoying to write) we see some messages on screen of what I assume are Rena’s classmates, and get pushed some ideas of what friends should be like, all while Momoko tries to cheer Rena up.

Okay, that’s a really narrow staircase. Who decided to put this creepy thing here?

Momoko writes her and Yachiyo’s name on the staircase (and we sneakily learn Yachiyo’s surname is Nanami). The two are reenacting the rumor, so now they’ll make up to draw the Chain Witch out. That is, after they give us their transformation scenes!

While Yachiyo’s themes are water and stars(?), and she has gracious movements, Momoko’s literally burning up and kicking things. Their transformations parallel one another, and yet they are completely opposites. I love it! (but Momoko kicking the sword still takes the cake for me).

Now that I think about it, for all that fire theme she has going, Momoko's not that hot-blooded. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, I guess.

Rena’s transformation focuses on her shapeshifting powers, throwing her through mirrors and with lots of expression changes. It’s not because she’s tsundere, the transformation seems to tell us Rena has lots of faces.

...I also like her DDR routine right at the start, it’s cute.

The theme of Iroha’s transformation is birbs. Rather than telling us something about who she is like the others, I see hers as basically about what she’s doing right now: much like she did by coming to Kamihama, Iroha takes the courage and jumps into the unknown, chasing after a mirage.

I’m always a little bothered with how she falls straight down despite taking impulse when she jumps, but hey, what can you do lol

One of the (many) cool things about this whole sequence is how the bgm is continuous throughout the transformations, only changing a bit to match each of the girls.

That’s not very convincing acting, Momoko. Yachiyo’s is not much better, either. They theorize it only works if they’re really fighting, and Rena says she’ll do it.

Rena starts apologizing, but nothing happens. Iroha says it might be because she’s not saying it from her heart and Rena’s gets upset.

Rena can’t just feel like making up right away, but it’s not like she doesn’t want Kaede to come back. These two seem to have a complicated relationship, but in the end, it’s clear that Rena does like her. Rena starts crying and apologizes for making Kaede be friends with someone like her all this time. Then, the Chain Witch appears.

We get a flashback to Rena flashbacking (confusing, I know) about all the times Kaede apologized to her, while watching an idol show.

Don’t we all?

So, yeah… Rena is a complicated character. (and a Sayuki stan)

Iroha wakes up in Rena’s room for some reason. Clearly-not-Momoko starts a monologue of how no one could ever like Rena.

Rena hates herself, so she wanted to change. She wanted to become someone else, so her wish gave her shapeshifting powers, but didn’t change her, so she still hates herself (considering the implications when this type of wish does work, see Oriko’s Kirika, she might have gotten the better end of the deal.

Kaede calls out to Rena and Iroha and Rena break out of the strange television-exposition-vision-thingy. So the first thing they start doing, naturally, is start bickering again. Great friends!

Oh look, the weird Kyuubei is back! Like the nice mascot character he is, he’s showing Iroha the way to the main Witch.

Rena and Kaede start to have a heart-to-heart while fighting (the familiars now, not each other).

Familiar: hahaha, that tickles

Rena says their friendship is over once they get out of there, since they were never real friends to begin with, but Kaede doesn’t want that. Kaede says that if Rena’s problem is that she never apologizes, she just did earlier and Rena says that didn’t count, so Kaede replies that then they breaking up doesn’t count either. Nice, Kaede!

Kaede basically says that, yeah, Rena can be terrible, but she likes her that way anyway, so they can continue being friends.

Rena says that Kaede needs to listen to her, she needs to let her apologize too and tells her she’ll do it once they get out.

While they’re doing that, Yachiyo and Momoko climb to the top and knock down the witches’ main body. Momoko then calls for Kaede and Rena to finish it off. Nice VFX there btw.

Rena and Kaede join hands and using both their magic they pinball the witch into the air with Rena's mirrors. Rena launches plant-enchanted copy spears at it and the witch bursts into leaves and dries... Kaede's magic is kind of scary like this.

Oh, how adorable. Aaaand he's gone.

The witch is defeated and Rena now has to make good on her promise to apologize. But, seems like honestly apologizing is still too much of a hurdle for her so after some struggle she swerves to another thing. Thankfully, Kaede knows Rena well enough and she's fine with this.

Look at them, so precious.

While Momoko and Iroha catch their breath, Yachiyo approaches them and informs them the Witch didn't drop a Grief Seed. In fact, she says that might've not even been a Witch at all. Yachiyo points out it's weird to have a Witch that comes out anywhere whenever the conditions of a rumor are met, in particular since they didn't even feel it's magic beforehand. She warns them that something weird is going on in Kamihama, then leaves in the most dramatic way possible.

Sometime later, our group is back at Satomi Medical Center. Seems Rena has given in and decided to help after all.

Going by the original plan, Rena transformed into a nurse and investigated the hospital. It's pretty cool how her voice is slightly distorted in this little sequence with her undoing her transformation.

No one in the hospital remembered Iroha's sister, but they did remember Touka and Nemu. That means Iroha's memories aren't entirely wrong.

With that, Iroha goes back to Takarazaki for the day, with some new friends and a very small but important step closer to finding her beloved younger sister.

"Sorry for making you my friend."

That's it folks, this was the third episode of Magia Record('s first season)! No one lost their heads... well except that not-witch if we count the bell as it's head, but I think that's just fine for this series, because--

OH WAIT THERE'S MORE

Talking about lost heads, look who's here! I totally forgot this episode had a stinger. My bad.

Kyuubei can't enter Kamihama now for some reason, so he needed someone to investigate the cause for him and contacted Mami as a strong veteran Magical Girl. There are rumors about that someone in Kamihama is gathering all the Witches around to monopolize Grief Seeds, which would explain why the city is infested with them and they being stronger than normal. Mami says she doesn't want trouble with the Magical Girls of another territory, but will investigate whether the current events are due to a Witch or Magical Girl. I like the short cut that shows her from beneath the grating, it's neat. Just have no idea what it's supposed to mean.

!--rant incoming--! (I say, as if this whole post isn't one)

Anyways, like I was saying... writing? Before the stinger disrupted my thoughts, I think it's just fine that Magia Record's ep3 doesn't have any big twists like Madoka. The original had that maybe for the shock factor, yes, but also because it needed it to make clear what kind of story they were actually going for, and that worked great for that show and the time when it came out. But Magia Record is more of a mystery. We don't need it to push the point of magical girl suffering because the original already did that, we need it to give us things to puzzle about, and that it already did with the weird witch of this episode. Could it have made that better? Maybe, but Magia Record also has the problem that it's cast is significantly bigger, so they have to fit those introductions somewhere. So while it introduces Momoko's trio and a bit Yachiyo, it also tries it's best to situate us (and Iroha by extension) as to how Kamihama's magical girl's world is like and what's going on there. It's a lot to juggle and the anime doesn't get the benefit like the game of being able to just put the character's backstory on a separate chapter. I really like character focused things, so I don't mind the anime trying to fit as much as it can in, but I can see how that might turn other people off. That's one of the things that's really a matter of taste I guess.

!--ok, you can come back now--!

One of the visual things I really like in this episode is the effect with the floating kana and kanji on the Labyrinth. I wonder how that was done. It's animated, so I don't think it's part of the background, but then I'm also not sure at which stage of production that'd be put in. It's really neat.

Well, with this, we are done with episode 3 of Magia Record! What will we do next? Who knows! It doesn't seem like Iroha noticed it, but just knowing that Touka and Nemu existed, not even getting their surnames, does not give her any new clues to go with. She barely started and already is at a dead-end, poor girl.

Before jumping off the building, Yachiyo also added another question to our already filled question bucket: what was up with that weird witch? What is this strange thing that is going on in Kamihama? Why are you looking like that at Momoko's team?

As viewers, however, there is only one way of answering all this: by watching. So I'll be looking forward to having you guys join me tomorrow for episode 4! Have a good morning/afternoon/evening!

PS.: The last two episodes had about 30 screenshots, this one has about 40, at this rate by the time I get to episode 13 I'll be taking screenshots of the whole episode...

#Magia Record #Puella Magi Madoka Magica #pmmm magia record

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Restrospective: The Raider of the Copper Hill! “You Got Rich Son”

Hello all you happy people! And welcome back to my retrospective of the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck! It’s been far too long, almost three months since we last checked in with Scrooge and frankly I feel i’ve been spacing these entries out too much for this one and for the retrospectives that aren’t paid for in general. So expect at least one McDuck adventure a month till I finish, possibly two when I can swing it like this month.

Now i’m done beating myself up, when we last left off a younger more naive, more optimistic and less experienced Scooge took up a career as a cowboy for Cattle Baron, gained his first sidekick in the form of his Horse Hortense, and took out some cattle thieves with the help of Teddy Fucking Roosevelt.

This chapter marks the end of the story’s first act. The first act is about a younger and far nicer Scrooge: still onrey and still a cheapskate, but still a good kid and far more outwardly friendly and welcoming, a far cry from the bitter untrusting man we come to know. This chapter is one of the reasons why, as Scrooge learns a hard lesson about wealth and success, the sacrifices one needs to make for family and about sticking your hand in a lightbulb while it’s plugged in. So join me under the cut as Scrooge meets another valuable mentor, one of his greatest enemies, and about 50 feet of barbed wire.

We begin with the end of Scrooge’s time as a ranch hand and cowpunch. With homesteaders moving in and dividing up the land, Murdo simply dosen’t have the space for cattle baroning anymore and has to let Scrooge go and head back to texas. We do get a great bit of Scrooge wrapped in barbed wire, having gone to cut some down so Murdo could move the herd out.

So with his Job done and parting on good terms with his old boss, Scrooge sets up his own homestead on some land near the Anaconda Silver Mine, trying to make it as a prospector, starting on the path that would eventually lead him to riches.. in about a decade and a half.

So Scrooge bemoans his rotten luck over Dinner with a stranger, Marcus Daly owner of said mine... who just.. randomly sat down to have dinner with a 17 year old.

Marcus belays his own woes: While Scrooge has failed at what he tried to do, having gotten into both steamboating and cattle punching too late to go anywhere with either, Daly has a silver mine that’s full of copper: decent amoutns of it but still not what his investors wanted.

Both however find their fortunes reverse in an instant in the weirdest way possible. The light goes out at their table and Scrooge tries to adjust it only to electcute himself. To his shock...

He finds out it’s running on electricty, which is starting to become widespread.. and requires vast amounts of copper wiring. Scrooge is back in the game but finds trouble getting equipment as the local seller naturally is a jackass who jacks up the price. Scrooge instead sells the gold teeth his dad gave him to the nearest gentleman after talking him into it. . And i’ts not even the weirdest transaction i’ve seen this week.

For the record those weird things are the guy on the left’s skinflakes, his power is to make naked golems of himself out of his dandruff and skin flakes and what have you, while the guy on the right is paying for a mutant with a star for a head. So yeah a scottish cowboy selling his ancestor’s dentures to pay for mining gear is refelshingly tame after all of this.

So we get the comic equivleant of a montage as Scrooge starts his work at prospecting, making a portable homesteader shack as a miner owns any land he lives on, and moving around to try and find it, but he runs into a problem: with his last two careers he had mentors to help him learn what to do: Pothole taught him riverboating and Murdo helped him learn to ride the trails. Here he has no one and while you can self teach a lot of things prospecting isn’t one of them.

He end sup finding one though as a rich gentleman asking about the mine happens to wander by: Howard D. Rockerduck. If that names sounds familiar it should as he’s indeed the father of exactly who your thinking of and we meet a young 10 or so year old john who asks him to stop dealing with a grubby workman. We also find out whose responsible for him turning out ot be such a piece of work as his mother’s response to his father telling him “I used to be a grubby workman is well... word’s cant’ do this amount of classist bulslhit justice.

Seriously his unnamed wife is so odious it hurts. And how the fuck did an honest, kind man like Howard end up with this bitch? It’ sbaffled me every time i’ve read this: did he marry for money? is he a gold digger? go down gold dig get down? Is she just THAT good in bed? Did he just make a horrible mistake one night? Did she lie to him about who she was? Was she replaced by a skrull? I have questions no duck comic has properly explained.. and if they have please tell me. Also it does tickle me we’re getting a bit with a duck named howard though sadly he wears a top hat instead of a nice little bowler. And if you don’t know who howard the duck is.. shame on you. And if you’ve seen the movie.. my deepest sympathies.

While Howard laments wanting to horsewhip his son, this was a century ago with change mind you standards were different and also John sucks. Howard crticizes Scrooge’s techqniue after introducing himself, and Scrooge and him get into a bit of a tizzy, with Howard offering to teach him for two cents.. but the hostility quickly desolves hours later as Scrooge realizes Howard was right and he’d been doing things completely wrong and the thrill of hard honest work again has washed away any ego driven competiviness.

I”ll get more into Howard in a second but he does eventually strike copper, and while the vein is full it’s also thin. But Howard has one final trick and takes Scroogey for an ore test. I tried to find more on this but just found a lot of ways to do it yourself and what not. I”m now really intrigued how they did this and found the content of minerals. I know it’s a dull subject but i’m curious how they did it with the technology of the time. Did they just use acids like I found? If so how’d they get them? I do say this is one of the great qualities of Rosa’s works: he makes you want to learn more about history. I looked up more about TR after the last chapter and now I want to know how the hell metallurgy worked in the late 1800′s.

We then get an intresting interacton as Scrooge.. warmly greets the townsfolk and vice versa.. yes the same Scrooge who as an adult would be introduced proclaming...

Is warm, optimistic and wholeheartedly belieives...

As you can probably tell by Howard’s reaction and what Scrooge becomes.. this story’s all about shattering that notion and is the first of two to shatter the poor kid’s trust in people and make him into the bitter old sod we know.

The sample comes back 55% positive... which leaves Howard rushing to get Scrooge to a court house. As it turns out there’s an old, very real for the time, mining law called the Law of Apex: whoever owns the land closest to where an ore vein is on the surface owns the whole thing... so legally Scrogoe owns the ENTIRE ANACONDA COPPER MINE, which at this point as detailed in the time skip has gone from struggling to utterly thriving and sucessful. Whoever owns the land at the time the Judge rules it gets the mine.. and Scrooge’s friends, who seconds ago were concerned about him being dragged into court.. are now all scrambling to take his fortune, something Howard dosen’t seem at all suprised about.

But while this may be a kinder, more naive Scrooge McDuck, it’s still SCROOGE MCDUCK. His response is to cut a nearbye power wire and swing it tarzan style over to hortense and ride her back ahead of the mob... with the electric wire slapping her rear and causing her to go extra fast.. and also quit. So Scrooge stands alone but manages to take out some of the ruffians with his shack while John and the Judge rush to the site. As for Scrooge well... you want to see what a McDuck family beserker rage against an ENTIRE angry mob of opportunistic assholes look like?

And this isn’t even the most badass thing Scrooge will do this series. Or even in the next few issues. That’s how awesome this series is: fighting an angry mob SOLO with simply his pure rage and whatever he can grab and throw. And he WINS. He’s exausted and passes out, falling out of the sky on his final opponent.. but he took out what was at the LEAST 50 men, and ONLY passed out because one of them threw dynamite in his out house.. and even THAT didn’t kill him or put him out, simply casuing him to land on said dynamite throwing idiot and wins.

We find out Rockerduck actually was one of the mine’s owners but helped Scrooge anyway: he has more than enough money and all it’s going to do in the end is go to a greedy brat. Marcus Daly shows up and while he’ll get the law overturned eventually, he still has to shut down while that happens and finds the right officials to bribe. And this is the 1800s... you gotta go by train to do your bribes. You can’t just do that shit over email and hidden bank accounts. Daly offers him 10,000.. but given what Scrooge could earn even before he got his mine back, Scrooge turns it down.

However this victory is bittersweet as Scrooge warmly greets his friends.. only for one to cuss him out and the other to tell him to get loss. We then get one of my faviorite exchanges in this story.

This whole Panel is a masterwork. The sheer INNOCENCE on Scrooge’s face, almost looking like Donald, desperately wondering what he did, when as Howard points out.. he did nothing wrong. He simply got successful and they resent him for it.

This has been a hard paragraph for me to write as I want to tread carefully. People do have good reasons to scorn the rich or celebrtiies sometimes. Some rich people or those in the media are genuinely terrible. Jeff Bezos, Tucker Carlson, Mel Gibson, Louie CK, Joss Whedon and even someone as low on the totem pole as Doug Walker is odious. And of course we all can think of one odious example of rich bastard i’d rather not think of, especially when thinking of John D Rockerduck and what he’l lbecome as an adult that i’m not giving a pleasure of the name drop but came to mind.

But even for good people becoming succesful puts up a barrier between you and other people: Fans of yours will admire you or write fanfic or what have about you without even knowing you, i’ve been on that side, and some people will hate you just because without valid reason, especially in this day and age. Success breeds resentment and even people you trusted and loved can sometimes turn on you. It’s the double eged sword of achieving your dreams: You get what you wanted but you often loose what you had.

And it was no diffrent two centuries ago, with Scrooge’s friends only being friendly as long as it suited them, turning on him first to steal his chance at glory and then to scorn him for daring to achieve it. Some people.. are only there for you as long as your not above them. And sometimes you can be happy. Look at Tom Hanks, who has a lovely family and a long and storied career. Or Linkara, a youtuber who has been at this for over a decade, has tons of fans, a loving wife with her own succesful channel, and just recently got contacted by his childhood heroes. You CAN be happy and successful.. it’s just very hard to make it that far.

One of the central points of life and times is that’s often not the case: You can get what you want but it comes at a cost. And it’s how you pay that price that will determine how happy you are. Another central point intertwined with it is it’s not the journey but the destination, and i’ts how Scrooge takes that journey that ultimately leads him where he ends up good and bad. And we get an all to telling all too foreboding hint in how he takes everyone he knew for at least a year turning on him overnight.

When faced with his first real loss on this Journey that wasn’t material.. he dosen’t care. He has his money and riches and that’s enough. And as we’ll see that attitude will cost him greatly. Howard is irate for a moment, hoping he wasn’t wrong in trusting Scrooge.. and indeed, for now, turns out to have placed his faith in the right person as Scrooge gets a telegram: his family needs him. And while he could stay, turn his back on them, and earn MILLIONS.. he tells Howard to tell the owner he’s taking the deal. For now when given the choice between his family and his fortune, SCrooge will choose them. Sadly.. that won’t hold true forever.

With this being the end of his time in the story, as he has a still insufferable John buy him a horsewhip for horrific but darkly funny reasons, as John brags about how rich his father is not realizing he’s buying his own whupping tool, i’d like to touch on Howard D Rockerduck and how amazing he is. Rosa managed to pack a throughly interesting, throughly engaging character into only 8 pages. While Rockerduck DID show up earlier in of ducks dimes and destinys, he wasn’t really fleshed out or named and only showed up for one page so still 9 pages total.

But in those we see a kind and noble man whose easily what Scrooge COULD have been, kind, noble, generous, hardworking and willing to give up money to help people. He’s a good man.. but even he’s seen the sacrifice Money brings. He’s clearly lost friends, lost a sense of peace, and married the wrong Woman, whose poisoned his children into a spoiled brat who will only grown into an even more spoield adult in both continuities.. if raised quite a bit earlier in the 2017 cartoon as he was made scrooge’s contemporary there rather than a child, but semeantics. Point is Howard hismelf isn’t wholly satisfied with his success.. and that’s what he and Scrooge will forever have in common, with Scrooge, likely as a result of meeting the Rockerducks, fearing an indadiquate inheritor and someone squandering what he worked hard for. Though his reasons for not taking up a wife as we’ll see eventually, if outside the main 12 part story but I intend to cover the subchapters in their own time, aren’t entirely motivated by avoiding goldigging but a broken hard and his own stubborness.

For now though we bid Howard and america adue. Scrooge however for once ends an occupation with less bitterness. Unlike his last two ventures where he made it out with only enough to get to the next one here he made it out ahead: he now has a decent suit, likely bought for him by Howard given he hasn’t cashed the check yet, I know this as it’s a major plot point for next time, 10,000 dollars.. and experince. He may of not gotten all the money he was due on this venture, but he learned more valuable skills and he feels with a land like america, the next opportunity to earn some dough is just waiting for him to get back. And as the chapter ends he muses that maybe the country could use a symbol of this countries boundless opportunity...

Final Thoughts for the Raider of the Copper Hill:

This chapter is one of my favorites. It’s nicely paced, something Rosa himself admits was often a struggle as he had to cover years at a time, has a wonderful new mentor for Scrooge, and sets up a lot of the tragedy to come in the last act beautifully. It’s a nice closer for our first act, showing Scrooge has come out of his first trip to america wiser, more experinced and more hopeful, but at heart still the same kind and noble kid he left Glasgow as. The next act is about the change of that boy into a man, how he will finally find his fortune after some more adventures.. and how the last viestges of his kindess and optimisim towards others die at the hands of a certain fake scotish gentleman.

Next Life And Times: As is tradition for this series act openers, Scrooge returns home.. and just in time to get his castle back, fight a duel and go to heaven and back. So an average McDuck tuesday then.

If you liked this review follow for more. And if you liked it a lot join my patreon so I can keep making these and hit my stretch goals. Even at just the 2 dollar level you get access to my discord and your pick of shorts whenever I do a series of them and with Goofy and Donald’s birthdays being the next ones to be celebrated you can’t pick a better time. patreon.com/popculturebuffet See you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #the life and times of scrooge mcduck #the raider of the copper hill #scrooge mcduck #john d rockerduck #howard d rockerduck #howards bitch of a wife #mining #prospecting

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coreastories · 4 years

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Modern Royals: The queen bares her heart about her new project, her queenship, and the king

This author is very honored (and tickled) to be invited to the palace for a private tete-a-tete with the queen

This isn’t exclusive, but I did get a note from The Royal Public Affairs Office that I’m the first in the lineup of the press junket, so yes, I screamed in the powder room

Also in the note: As long as I interview the queen about her project, I can ask other questions I want. They’re confident that I would remain respectful of Her Majesty’s privacy.

Well! They knew how to rein me in, didn’t they?

The October air was crisp and cold that morning but the thought of meeting the queen warmed me up. We were offered breakfast upon arrival. My team ate. I couldn’t. I was too excited. You remember that I’ve been dreaming of an interview with the queen for ages!

At eight, we were brought to the interview location. The media room was simple, with zero clutter. The furniture was modern minimalist. The walls were white, the floor-to-ceiling windows were bare. Your eyes were drawn to the lush grounds.

And it was so warm you could forget it was autumn. Rather than a press junket, the room gave the impression that the queen was meeting you as a friend, invited to relax in that gorgeous room.

Once there, I discovered I could eat. I drank tea and had some of the best scones I’ve ever had.

At eight fifteen, the queen arrived in her trademark, understated elegance. Barely any makeup. No lipstick. Hair splendid and shining but unstyled. Her outfit looked like something you wore at home, because of course it might be a palace but it was her home.

Well, something you wore at home in different brands, unless you’re also upper crust Corean who can afford head-to-toe Chanel, because the queen’s outfit was all Chanel, from her Coco Crush earrings to her suede calfskin and grosgrain mary janes.

Her Majesty was just lovely. She made us feel like friends. If I weren’t in love with her before, I would certainly have been head over heels then.

Don’t get me wrong-- the queen is not friendly in that overly familiar style that just manipulates you to respond in the same way. No, the queen simply charms you with her sincerity, despite her obvious shyness. If she asks you a question, she genuinely wants to know the answer-- it’s not just small talk.

When everything was ready, the queen sat in her chosen chair. We shared a laugh because it’s exactly the type of chair the king didn’t want her to sit on when Their Majesties dropped in on us for his flash interview.

Without further ado, darlings, here’s my interview with the queen on her new project.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

The Queen’s project revolves around Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, a day of remembrance for pregnancy loss and infant death, which includes, but is not limited to, miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, and the death of a newborn.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day is held on October 15 in several countries. Are we going to have a separate day for it in Corea, Your Majesty?

HM The Queen: I found out about Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day on the same day it was confirmed that I’m pregnant. So we’ve been working on this project for several weeks. I wanted to unveil it on the remembrance day, but I didn’t want that strict deadline on anybody’s head.

Thankfully, we still managed to be quite close to the Remembrance Day. So we are launching the Eomoni Foundation this year and Corea will join the international Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day next year.

The Eomoni Foundation

Eomoni Foundation is literally “Mother” Foundation. Is it for all mothers in Corea?

HM The Queen: Yes. Mothers do so much, even before the moment they learn they’re expecting a child. When they’re trying to conceive, or when they suspect they’re pregnant and they’re not sure yet if it’s happy or unwelcome news. There’s just so much there, unspoken and unrecognized. Eomoni Foundation stands for everything a mother needs before, during and after pregnancy.

Because of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, we’ve talked to experts on how to support this often overlooked aspect of becoming a mother.

Mothers who lose their children during pregnancy or infancy need the most support. So Eomoni Foundation is their safe harbor, where they can come for informational, emotional, medical, and peer support.

And the foundation is truly up and running?

HM The Queen: Yes. The helpline is up, the website is live, and Eomoni Foundation has fully-staffed centers in Seoul, Busan, Pyongyang and Hamgyong. Of course, we’re still learning everything, but we have reliable models from other foundations worldwide. The Queen’s Office and the Office of the Prime Minister are both working together to have a Eeomoni Center in every city in Corea.

What’s your goal for the foundation, short term and long-term?

HM The Queen: We’re in talks with the Ministry of Labor about requiring all private and government businesses and organizations to have training for Infant Loss and Bereavement. I want parents to have company policies and HR that support them. This is both the short and long-term goal, to change policies and laws to support parents in this difficult time.

I suppose this is very personal for you, Your Majesty, now that you’re expecting? How has that affected this project you whipped up so quickly?

HM The Queen: Of course, it’s personal. And this is almost never discussed because it’s terrifying, but this is a mother’s biggest fear: to lose her child. It’s very real to me right now-- I can understand that fear and I can imagine the devastation and grief at this visceral level, so I wanted Eomoni Foundation up, and we do have the means to do that. There were no impediments for this project to get on its feet.

No superstitions at all that might have cautioned you against it?

HM The Queen: Ahhh yes, there was something said about it, but even the most superstitious understood. I mean, of course I wouldn’t want anything to happen. But not touching this because of that has no logic at all. No one wants to get cancer, and should that mean we couldn’t touch support and research and funds for cancer patients?

So we pushed through with this, because this is absolutely needed.

Congratulations, Your Majesty, this is stupendous.

HM The Queen: Thank you. We had a lot of help. Her Excellency, of course. And Dr Chae. And Elizabeth Locke of the Infant Loss Foundation in the United Kingdom. The Corean Association of Counseling is also offering training specifically for Infant Loss Counseling, under Eomoni Foundation.

That’s wonderful. Your Majesty, you’ve had so many projects since becoming queen. It makes my head spin. Do these help with the adjustment from your previous job to this one? Did you have an adjustment period at all? How--what was it like? You’re handling so much, and now you’re also pregnant.

HM The Queen: I’ve been a public servant ever since I became an adult, and my role now just continues that, only on a bigger scale.

I got married. And my marriage happened to come with a queenship.

The adjustment period was more on the small “big” things, like people bowing, and not being able to go out and about like I used to, and events where I’m the center of attention instead of being invisible in the background.

I had to learn the protocol and I had to get used to so many things. I suppose I was already trained for this because a cop should be adaptive. You need to be nimble for every case, every situation, and if you transfer to another station or another department-- or if you even just get promoted--you also need to adjust there. You shouldn’t get comfortable, or be afraid of change.

It’s such a huge change, Your Majesty. Do you ever feel regret for what you gave up? Do you ever think of your previous career?

HM The Queen: No. I made my choice and it’s something I don’t regret at all. I do think of my previous job. Who wouldn’t? But even though I loved it, I wasn’t really in a position of influence.

After becoming queen, I had to wrap my head around the fact that I can do what I want. I’m in this position where I can help and serve people without all the bureaucracy I would have had to go through first.

Once I’ve done that, I filled pages and pages of notes on everything I could do for Corea. That’s why you’re seeing so many projects. I talk to the Prime Minister a lot. Secretary Mo is also a great advisor. I have a lot to learn if I want to be a working queen.

The king is supportive, of course. And the king and I have always planned to have a family. So having a baby is just part of everything, too. I went into this with both eyes open and I’m determined to do my best.

That’s what it’s like. I’m learning, adjusting, asking questions. I do have a lot of help. And for many of my projects, I’m simply a patron. I get it off the ground, I raise funds, the experts do the work.

I admire that so much, Your Majesty. Thank you for your candor. I’ve always been curious, what does being patron of these foundations involve?

HM The Queen: It involves signatures and funding for the most part, and support where needed, for both the best developments and any bad circumstances.

How are you, ma’am? No more morning sickness? I hope it’s alright to ask that. Everyone’s thinking about you.

It’s adorable how the queen refused to touch her baby bump throughout the interview, but often came close to doing so anyway.

HM The Queen: I do still get sick now and then. We’re told this is normal and might go away. Or not. And I thank everyone for their concern. I’m very well taken care of. Sometimes to the point of excess, but I’ve learned to accept some of it, and we’ve all gotten better at it.

Can you share something about that, Your Majesty?

HM The Queen: Well, the king is almost back to normal and no longer snaps at Jangmi’s every move. I mean Jang Mi-reuk. And Lady Noh is always giving me tisanes and soups. I’ve told her which ones I like and which ones I absolutely wouldn’t drink, so we’ve all come to an agreement.

How is the king? Is he excited-terrified, or excited-impatient?

HM The Queen: I think he tries to be neither. We’re excited, of course, but we try to temper that and just stick to happiness every day. We just savor each day.

That is lovely, but also surprising. So you don’t plan for May, for example? No birth plan?

HM The Queen: That’s already done. We got it out of the way on the first days. We don’t dwell on it. We enjoy each new day, each new milestone.

So I suppose you have names ready?

HM The Queen: Ahh, I think I’ve been told not to say anything about that.

That reminds me of that time Your Majesties dropped by! Can I ask you some of those questions?

HM The Queen: Of course, you can ask me. I just won’t guarantee the answers.

I’ve always been curious about that blessing His Majesty mentioned. He said, and I quote, that you “were blessed by God to meet and stay together. God made sure our paths would cross and stay intertwined.” What does this mean?

HM The Queen: That’s exactly what it means. We were fated to meet, and then fate kept us together, as cheesy as that sounds. All our doubts and fears were answered and addressed.

That’s just as cryptic as what the king said. Let me capture something non-cryptic at all. The rings you’re wearing right now. They’re the Coco Crush rings. Any significance? We haven’t seen your wedding rings at all.

HM The Queen: My wedding and engagement rings are both very thin bands-- and they don’t fit my fingers right now. These aren’t part of my bridal jewelry. They are gifts from the king. I wear them sometimes when I’m at home.

And when he’s not home? When she misses him? The king is currently away on kingly duties to Russia, China, Thailand, and Singapore.

First thing that comes to mind: what do you love about the king?

HM The Queen: His dimples. So I guess that’s his smile. The rest of him isn’t bad at all either. You think he’s vain but he’s not. He’s a man of principle. What he said in your interview was right: He does know how to joke in difficult situations.

It amazed me that I didn’t become a puddle of goo in that gorgeous press room at that point. Despite her smiles and giggling, there was something in the queen’s eyes that told me she’d witnessed a demonstration of the king’s stalwart principle. This queen admires and respects her king in the highest degree. And these two are so in love it’s almost contagious-- no wonder the whole kingdom is in love with their love, too.

It’s probably his principles that took him away from you these days?

HM The Queen: Well, these diplomatic visits have been scheduled for months. He comes home from Singapore in a few days.

Just in time for the King’s Birthday?

HM The Queen: Hopefully.

What is something you adore about the king, something we won’t see or notice at all because we don’t live with him, but something we can watch out for in public appearances?

HM The Queen: If you ever see him pick something up with his right hand, sometimes his pinkie would be sticking out. He hates it when that happens, but it’s not really something he can control.

And laughing at that little detail, our interview came to an end. I feel quite blissful. I don’t know if I’d asked what I’d wanted to ask, but I’m content.

Stay tuned because we’ll be back at the palace for the king’s birthday!

For more information about Eomoni Foundation, go here.

Images from Elle Korea interview video. Love that so much.

LMH’s pinkie sticking out is as true as KGE missing her pockets lol

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch

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bitterbetterbun · 3 years

Text

I had the strangest dream last night:

I love this world, this realm. I smile to myself because it feels so nice to walk amongst the theaters I so love. Even though there are no performances right now. I meet up with some friends and we take a train to the Dark City. I'm excited to start a new job I just landed.

Some of my family members work in the Dark City so it'll be nice to know some people. Maybe we'll be in the same division! Superstition keeps a lot of people out of the Dark City but the benefits and wages are really tough to compete with. And yet, they are always hiring! Great for a young adult like myself trying to save.

On my first day, during orientation, my friends and I are interrupted at lunch. Two figures dressed in black demand I come with them. I do so and oh boy, how I wish I hadn't. They take me to him. To Hades. I'd never met the keeper of the city but the rumors got it wrong. He isn't menacing. He's fucking rude. I cannot tell him enough during our first meeting that my name is not Persephone. I understand I have a connection to her, yes, past lives and such. But that does not make her "written fate" the same as mine. I leave.

Though I return to the Dark City the next day with my friends. Despite his annoying confrontation, I need this job. And yet, he needs an answer other than "hell no." I find that I am weaving through out crowds to avoid the people he sends to persuade me to meet with him again. I am constantly avoiding him. I mean constantly. I even run into him a few times at the Tower elevators and I yell "leave me alone!" as I run in the opposite direction, middle fingers up. What kind of weirdo wears a fucking black cape in today's day and age anyways?

One of my friends already working in the Tower sees me avoiding Hades' men and says "maybe you should think about it." I stop and turn to watch her mop and she shrugs and laughs, "That's all I'm sayin'."

A few days proceed and I'm finally done with training! My next shift, I'll be on the clock! To celebrate, I am relaxing with my friends and family at a park in the Dark City. I ask my Dad what he thinks of the whole ordeal. He tells me to do what makes him happy. This annoys me but I love him. I spend the night at a friend's house mulling over how hard my family is working...and them too... If we all had the proper support in a society like this, maybe we wouldn't all have to work so damn hard all the time...

The next day, I set my things down on the Tower's top floor and go to greet Hades' men. They take me to him. He is in his office, "Have you decided to stop being petulant?"

"Have you decided to learn to act like a gentleman?"

He stands, "Your answer?"

"I will consider...marriage."

I swore I heard a small sigh of relief but I can't say for sure. He approaches me and says "come with me." I follow him down the hall. As if everyone had been prepared for this, some of Hades' staff adorn me with a white cape that matches his black. I think it looks silly because I'm wearing...normal clothes but everyone else seems to approve. I let it slip even though I hadn't given a full "yes."

Hades tells me I must accompany him for the day "as is tradition." I start to deny the offer because this is my first day of work! But he declines my decline and says we will continue our conversation after the work day.

The day creeps by, me boredly pacing behind Hades as he visits different parts of the Tower in the Dark City. I stop to talk to all of my friends that I see. And Hades does not hesitate to voice his annoyance with me holding up his busy busy schedule. I retort with some insult and continue to say hi to everyone. I'm sure I've halved his tasks for the day with the amount of times I stop to chat excitedly with family. I run into one of my moms and talk a bit about whether I am making the best decision. (We are out of earshot btw). She takes a puff of her blunt and says, "Does he have money?" And I say, "He's one of the three kings! Of course he has money!" And she laughs and nods in approval.

Hades asks me why I'm huffing when I return to his side and I tell him to fuck off. To which he responded about how I have no manners, some other things I'm not paying attention to. Near the end of the work day, he's stopped by a worker about something and tells me to "move freely" about the Tower as he finishes up something by himself. I take the very welcome opportunity to go say hello to my friends on the factory floor. It's 2:57pm, three minutes to close. Everyone looks exhausted but I am just happy to see their faces. I start to think about my decision.

Man. Six months here and six months out, huh? I mean, there is the Dark City, which allows me to see my friends and family outside of the Underworld at any time of year. So long as they come. But I still cannot leave. I want to save up to move somewhere sunny... I am grateful for the opportunities that the creation of the Dark City has given people that want to work for fair wages. "A deal with the devil" was a joke before but now, the Dark City brought that metaphor to life with it's sparkling benefits and high pay rates. You couldn't expect any less from a city bred from the Underworld itself.

Even so, even though Dark City was in the human realm.... I won't be able to travel away from it for six months every year.

My thoughts have me wandering to the elevators. I don't want to be in the Tower during close. I don't want to see my friends tired faces. I wonder if I could maybe leave before Hades and meet him when he's done. I'm certain one of his workers can escort me to his home. As I approach an elevator, I am surprised when I run into him. He doesn't speak on my obvious discomfort.

"I will collect my things from the lower floor and then we can leave together."

I enter the elevator with him and of course, there's no one around because it's closing time and everyone is busy wrapping up the day. "I left my things on the top floor," I say after Hades presses the bottom floor button. "I need to stick them in a locker, at least."

He sighs and says "very well" before pressing the top floor as well. The ride is long and quiet as we descend to his destination first. I feel...overwhelmed and exhausted and have no idea how I'm going to get through the evening. I plop onto the floor in the far corner of the elevator.

Hades looks at me and my crumpled cape for a few seconds and then, to my sudden surprise, he sighs and lowers himself in the corner furthest from me. He looks...awkward and uncomfortable from his crouched position on the floor. But it makes me smile inwardly. He is looking at the numbers on the elevator go down and starts saying them softly. "137...136...135...134..."

The trip passes like this, him hushing after speaking twenty or so floors aloud. By the time we reach the bottom, we are both on our feet. He steps out, expecting me to stay put but I follow him off. He is walking fast but I catch up because I have to ask him something...something important that can't wait. "Wh.." I catch my breath as I skip next to him. Him and his stupid long legs. "Why do you even want to marry me, huh?"

He stops. I continue.

"Is it cuz I'm 'Persephone' or because you think that you love me?"

He lets out an exasperated sigh and leans down in my face, "Let me assure you, I love you to bits. But I do not like you." He snarls the last bit and I am left angry and speechless as he swiftly walks away.

Back on the top floor, I collect my things and find a worker to help me get assigned a new locker. An older gay couple I met during training finds me and they rush to give me a hug. They explain they didn't wanna leave without saying goodbye and ask how the day went with "you know who."

I shrug and start to say something insulting... but then I remember the stress from the past week with being chased down. I recall Hades smart remarks and our arguments as I try to avoid him. And I recall him sitting across from me on the elevator floor, his boots wrinkling his black cape at the effort. I recall his "I love you to bits" and such...

"It went alright, actually." I look up at the couple, rubbing my stomach from the jitters that have made a home there because it's dawned on me that in less than an hour, I will be within Hades home making the biggest decision of my life. "Fuck."

One of the men in the couple adjusts his coat and looks at me with concern, "What's wrong, love?"

"I think I have a crush on him."

And then I woke up.

#mine #writings #writing #my writing #Hades #Dark City #The Dark City #Persephone

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Seven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Someone watching Littlepaw sleep would have assumed she was in the middle of a nightmare. Her paws twitched erratically; her pretty little face was scrunched up into a deep grimace; every once in a while, the fur along her back started to stand up straight before flopping back down. The someone observing her would have been compelled to shake her awake and assure her that everything was fine, that her bad dream was baseless.

In reality, Littlepaw was in the grip of intense confusion. She had gone to sleep with the intent to talk to StarClan about leaving the Clan behind – if for nothing else, just to get an idea of what was outside the Territory from those that lived in the sky and could see everything. She wasn’t sure that they would visit, since she had given up the seer life in all but official changing of mentors. Still, it was worth trying...and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she sort of missed the soothing and gentle presence of StarClan cats.

At first her dream was set in that beautiful field she usually saw when speaking with her ancestors: grass of that perfect length and softness, that stray butterfly dancing around her paws, the whole thing. But instead of Meliclight, the cat that visited her most, or some other spirit with the stars in their pelt and eyes, she now just saw a shadow in the distance. It was a shadow like one seen on a cloudy day, vaguely silhouetted and barely darker than the land around it. She couldn’t even tell what it was from this far away. She squinted and unconsciously took a few steps forward.

Abruptly she was turned around, facing the sunrise that was also common in her visions. The brightness of the sky made her look away and squeeze her eyes shut. She could barely open them again – the sun was just getting brighter and brighter, drowning out the stars above her. And yet, oddly, she felt no warmth.

“Meliclight?” she called. “…StarClan? Anyone?”

Then she woke up.

She spent the morning mulling over her dream and brought it up to Flyfang during breakfast. Flyfang couldn’t make heads or tails of it either.

“Snowshine could probably tell you what it means,” she suggested. “I’m sure she’d love to actually do seer work for once rather than leading around all these boneheads.”

Littlepaw gently admonished Flyfang (there were Clast cats around them, for stars’ sake!) but agreed that talking to Snowshine was probably the best idea.

However, predictably, Snowshine was handling a debate of some kind between a Clast native and a newcomer. Littlepaw hovered around the corner where she was for quite a while, waiting. When it became clear that this argument was going to take a while, she gave up and started looking around the settlement.

There was another seer that had come to Clast for a momentary stay – a silver tom named Starkfeather, who hadn’t done much in the time he'd been here beside eat and sun himself. Littlepaw hadn’t spoken to him very much – or at all, really – but she figured he was her next best option.

As she thought, she found him laying against a house wall, exactly where the sun best heated up the cobblestone. His eyes were shut, but he was clearly not asleep, from how he was purring and gently waving his tail, tapping it sometimes against the wall, sometimes against the ground.

“Excuse me,” Littlepaw began as she approached.

Starkfeather didn’t respond, except that his mouth twitched.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” Littlepaw raised her voice a little, assuming he hadn’t heard her. “I had a vision last night, and I was hoping you could help me figure it out.”

One brilliant green eye opened and roamed until it landed on her. A pause, a grunt, and then Starkfeather shifted to sit up at an agonizingly slow pace. Littlepaw kept her patience and smiled politely at him until he was adjusted and looking at her fully.

“A vision?” he said, sounding bored and sleepy. “What kind of vision?”

“Well…” Littlepaw sat down too, straight-backed (or about as straight-backed as cats get when sitting). “I’m not entirely sure. I used to dream of StarClan a lot, in this field with a sunrise, and I was there again, but-“

“Why would you dream about StarClan?” Starkfeather looked down at her, eyes narrowed.

“Oh-“ Littlepaw hastened to add on. “I used to be a seer apprentice, so I talked with them. But I quit, and-“

“Quit?” Starkfeather repeated, almost patronizingly slow. “You gave up on seerhood?”

Littlepaw shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “Y-yes. About a month ago.”

Starkfeather was eyeing her now, head slightly tilted. Littlepaw waited for him to say anything for several long moments. When he didn’t, she continued. “Anyway, so I had a dream again, because I was wondering about leaving the Clan-“

Starkfeather cut her off again. “I know who you are. You’re Morningsky’s kit.”

“You know my mother?” Littlepaw asked, nervous now. Was he going to tell on her?

“She’s been looking for you,” Starkfeather said, oddly contemptuous. “She wouldn’t shut up about how the greatest seer apprentice in the Territory disappeared without a trace.”

“Oh…” Littlepaw’s eyes lowered of their own accord. She had been happy to leave her mother behind, but a little worry had niggled at the back of her head for a long time, about whether Morningsky would miss her or not. Had she asked for her daughter, or her future seer serving under the leaders?

Before she could ask, Starkfeather snorted. “So let me get this straight – you gave up being a seer, and you ran away to this backwater place, and now you’re saying you’re getting visions from StarClan again, like they’d talk to you after all this.”

Littlepaw felt herself shrinking in posture. “I mean…”

“It's a little pathetic, trying to show off to adults, really.” Starkfeather rolled his eyes. “You have no business talking about dreams. Why don’t you leave seer business to those of us who trained all the way and graduated? You quit, and-”

“Well, aren’t you insecure!”

Littlepaw looked to her right. The blind cat Laurelclaw had come in with was strutting up to them, tail and head high and big eyes sparking. She had a smile on, but those sparks looked a little…aggressive, for lack of a better word.

Starkfeather frowned. “And who are you to interrupt-“

“You oughtn’t be talking about interrupting, boy, when you didn’t let this little chickadee finish any of her sentences.” The molly kept moving forward until she was standing almost between Littlepaw and Starkfeather, her nose nearly touching the tom’s and making him lean back a little. “And you really oughtn’t be talking like she’s harming your work when all you’ve done around here is sit on your prat and suck up prey like you’re trying to eat for a whole litter.”

The conversations around them, Littlepaw noticed, were dying off. She felt the eyes of several cats on her and the molly.

Starkfeather must have noticed too, because he stood up as straight as he could, looking annoyed. “You’ve barely been here long enough to learn my name. You can’t say that I’ve-“

The molly leaned in even harder, talking in a loud whisper. “I pay attention, Starkfeather. And I wouldn’t have to be here half a heartbeat to know that you just got insecure because a cat that quit being a seer is doing your job better than you ever did. Feels awful, doesn’t it? You might not be able to show your face around here if she has another dream! Have to go hunt your own food out in the valley, I’ll wager.”

Starkfeather bristled. “You have a lot of nerve-“

“Ohhh!” The molly’s eyes widened even further than they already were. “I know that tone when I hear it. Are you going to hit a blind cat now? That seems about your speed, picking on the weak and the harmless. Go on, then, we’re all waiting.”

Littlepaw stared in awe at the molly, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. Conversation had died entirely around them; when Littlepaw looked back, everyone was staring, some with their mouths a little open, some trying very hard not to laugh before this confrontation's conclusion.

Starkfeather’s eyes darted between the blind molly, Littlepaw, and the community watching them. He was looking more and more flustered by the heartbeat, mouth moving with nothing coming out of his throat.

“Weeell?” The molly turned her head so that her right cheek was facing Starkfeather. “One hit ought to do it. Come on!”

Starkfeather made a few noises that sounded equally outraged and helpless. Then he whipped around and stalked away, tail lashing.

“That’s what I thooo-ooought,” the molly called in a sing-song voice, a bit of a taunting laugh tucked in there. “Better go bully someone where there’s no one to watch you!”

Littlepaw was so caught up in her amazement that she jumped in alarm when the blind eyes turned on her, paired with a wicked grin.

“You okay, kiddo?” the molly said.

“Yeah,” Littlepaw managed, haltingly. “Um… thanks. I didn’t mean to cause an argument.”

“You didn’t,” the molly said. “That prick was asking for it, talking to you like that. I overheard and, well, I can’t resist skinning fools when I can.”

She lifted her chin, looking past Littlepaw, and tilted her head questioningly, smile dangerously bright. Littlepaw looked back to see the observers quickly finding business elsewhere and resuming their conversations awkwardly. Littlepaw couldn’t fight the giggle that escaped her and turned back to the blind cat.

“Really,” the molly said, quieter, lowering her head to Littlepaw’s height, “what has that twerp been doing since he’s been here?”

Littlepaw smiled without her permission and lowered her voice too. “Well, not much. He showed up after I did, and I haven't heard him talking about StarClan at all.”

“Then he really has no grounds on giving you crap.” The molly nodded sagely, grinning. “So that made that argument even more fun.”

Littlepaw laughed a little, then covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t be mocking anyone, it’s not nice.”

“But it sure is fun,” the molly said. “And you need to learn to dish it back out, my girl! What if I hadn't been here? I’ve heard you talk with your friend, you’ve got a good vocabulary. You could’ve dug him into the dirt with Hurst if you wanted.”

Littlepaw blinked. “I mean, maybe, but…I don’t know how, and…”

The molly tsked and shook her head. “No one’s been teaching you the real important stuff, I see. Well, you want lessons, you just come on around and find me. I’ve quite a vocabulary myself.” She winked. “And it’s quite colorful, if I may say. You’d be surprised.”

Littlepaw’s next laugh was louder. “I might take you up on that, then.” She paused, then remembered her manners. “Oh, my name’s Littlepaw. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself.”

“You needn’t apologize for that,” the molly said. “But it is good to have a name attached to a voice. I’m Darkpelt. Your friend is Flyfang, I think? Laurelclaw mentioned her to me. He says she’s quite the fighter.”

“She is,” Littlepaw said proudly. “And she might end up being my mentor as a warrior apprentice.”

“Very good.” Darkpelt nodded again. “Then you’ll learn how to kick keisters both physically and verbally, if you so care to.”

Littlepaw grinned, a flare of boldness and excitement in her chest. “Well…I just might care to.”

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter seven #littlepaw #starkfeather #darkpelt

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isidar-mithrim · 4 years

Text

Silliness of love – Chapter 3

Nineteen years later, James and Al have just left for Hogwarts, and the least Harry can do to cheer Lily up is having someone over for dinner.

Inspired by prompt posse #8 by the ‘Harry and Ginny Discord’: “What is a secret you’ve never shared?”

[Chapter one and two on Tumblr – Ao3]

_________________________________

Of books and misunderstandings

“You Confunded the examiner?!”

“Maybe, or maybe not,” said Ron amiably.

“When you’ll destroy our car I’ll make sure you fix it yourself, without magic and without your father’s help.”

“And then you’ll have to polish by hand the silver in the trophy room, and ten point from Gryffindor!” cut in Teddy, his face incredibly close to McGonagall’s, minus the spectacles.

Even Hermione bursted out laughing.

“C’mon, there’s nothing to worry about, I don’t even exist in the Muggle records.”

“We’ll talk about that when you’ll have run over some poor old lady.”

“Oh, she might be Aunt Petunia!” said Lily with delight, leaving Harry completely baffled while Ron’ and Hugo’s laughs mingled together.

“Let’s hope Ron won’t run over anybody, shall we?” said Ginny, looking at her brother. “And don’t you think I’ve forgotten that you’ve yet to tell your story!”

“Don’t worry, we made a deal, and I have all the intentions to fulfill it, because you’d never imagine that the silliest thing I’ve done for Hermione was…” Ron trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry took a spoonful of pudding, finding himself more curious that he had expected. He wondered if he already knew about this or not.

“It was…”

“Dad, don’t keep us in suspense!”

“There must be so many things he could pick that he has no idea where to start,” teased Ginny.

“You’re wrong, you harpie of a sister. I’ve known what I was going to say since the very start. It all began when I was seventeen years old, before Hermione and I got together. After the whole Lavender debacle, I knew I had to work very hard to win Hermione’s heart, and so… I read a book.”

Silence fell when everybody looked at him with bewildered expressions, until Ginny broke it.

“Absolutely impressive, Ron. I’d have never suspected that by that age you were alphabetized enough to read. Are you sure it wasn’t a comic?”

“Or The Kamasutra?” asked Teddy with a suggestive smirk, rousing hiliarity among the adults.

Lily narrowed her eyes, bemused. “The Kamasutra?”

“Oh, don’t mind Teddy,” Harry hurried to say. “It’s nothing interesting.”

Lily shrugged and stood up. While she walked towards the stairs with firm steps, a shiver ran down Harry’s spine.

“Where are you going, love?”

“To look up in the dictionary what Kamasutra means, since you are not telling me! I want to understand your funny jokes too.”

Harry almost choked on his Butterbeer, but Ron doubled over with laughs. “Lily, you’d probably have more luck searching under James’s bed!”

While Hermione exclaimed with indignation, Ginny looked at Teddy with a deadly smile.

“Come back, honey. I’m sure Teddy is perfectly happy to explain what he was talking about, right?”

“Er…” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his t-shirt while Lily sat down and looked at him with expectancy. “Well, erm… It’s a book that was written centuries ago by Hindus wizards and witches, that teaches a series of… of exercises to be… in harmony with your body.”

Teddy now looked pretty smug, his embarrassment apparently forgotten. It was a pretty effective explanation, after all – or so Harry thought until Hugo spoke.

“And that’s supposed to be funny?” he asked, throughuly not impressed.

Teddy chuckled awkwardly. “Er…”

“Well, it’s an illustrated book, sweetie,” explained Hermione with a strained smile. “That means you don’t have to read to understand those exercises.”

Harry couldn’t help but admire her cleverness, but Hugo raised his eyebrows with bored disappointment.

“Ha, ha, ha. Best joke ever, Teddy…”

Lily’s eyes, on the other hand, were bright with curiosity. “Do the figures move?”

When Harry choked on his Butterbeer, Hermione had the decency to look sheepish. “Er… only in the Wizarding version.”

Teddy jerked his head toward her. “Wait, do you mean there’s a Muggle version too?”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but Hermione cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, I believe there is,” she said curtly, obviously eager to put an end to the conversation.

Her effort couldn’t have been less effective.

“Have you read them both, Mum?”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed red in an instant, but she still had the presence of mind to stomp on Harry’s foot under the table. To be fair, he was doing a very poor job at holding back his laughters, but Ron, Ginny and Teddy weren’t copying any better.

Hugo glared at them, his arms folded in annoyance. “You’re doing it again.”

It was Ginny the first to recover. “Sorry, love, but it’s quite fun to imagine your mum reading them. You know she’s never been a fan of gymnastics,” she added with a wink.

Harry leaned towards Ginny, his mouth close to her ear. “No, that’s your area of expertise,” he whispered cheekily. He clearly hadn’t been subtle enough, though, because Ron groaned loudly.

“Merlin’s pants, you two are disgusting,” agreed Teddy.

Hugo scowled at them all. “Well, if you all want to be so mysterious, I’ll ask Rose to look for a copy in the library. I bet she will tell me what’s so funny about this stupid book.”

This time it was Ron’s turn to choke on his Butterbeer.

“Er, I’m pretty sure there isn’t any copy at Hogwarts,” mumbled Teddy. “And anyway, weren’t you eager to listen to your dad’s silliness, Hugo?”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Ron, seizing the opening. “I’d just mentioned that I read a book, which wasn’t an illustrated one, nor a comic, but a real book with real letters, words and sentences!”

“Please know that if you’re about to say that you’ve read Hogwarts: A History just to please me, I won’t believe it.”

“Hermione, we’re talking about a silliness, not a miracle,” said Harry, who now had a clear suspicion on the nature of the book.

Ron clapped his back. “Thanks, mate. It’s wonderful to know you’re always ready to put in a good word for me.”

Harry grinned, raising his glass in salute. “You’re welcome.”

“Enough with your comradeship,” said Ginny with a smile. “It’s time for you to reveal the title of this phantomatic book, Ron.”

“Yes, yes, I’m getting there… So, it was a present by Fred and George for my seventeenth birthday…”

“Then it definitely wasn’t Hogwarts: A History,” teased Teddy.

“No, definitely not,” agreed Ron, shaking his head. “It was called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Pure gold, it explained everything you needed to know about girls!”

“Oh God.” Ginny looked at her brother in disbelief. “You used a book to understand how to woo Hermione?”

“Hey, don’t think Harry hasn’t read it! I gave it to him myself for his seventeenth birthday!”

Ginny turned toward Harry, who inwardly cursed Ron upon noticing that her eyes were wide with surprise and mirth.

“Technically I only read it after we got together,” he pointed out. “And it’s not like I had much time to read it while we were on the run, so I –”

“Really?” asked Hermione with a knowing smirk. “Because I clearly remember that you had all the time to check for her on the Marauders’ Map...”

“You spied on her on the Map?” exclaimed Teddy, half shocked, half amused.

“It wasn’t like that! I was just worried, and I missed her, and I –”

But Harry couldn’t finish his plea, because Ginny brought their lips together in the sweetest of peck.

“Eww, Lily, Hugo, cover your eyes,” said Teddy, laying his hands over the kids’ faces and making them chortle.

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. “Very funny, but don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily.”

“Get away with what?” asked Hugo.

“Oh, only with the fact that Teddy still hasn’t admitted that he also received that book for his seventeenth birthday.”

“Uuuh, Uncle Bill will be happy to know Vic’s boyfriend needs a book to understand her!”

“Shut up, bug,” said Teddy, ruffling Hugo’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong in that book.”

Harry nodded in agreement – he had been the one to give it to him, after all – but he privately realised that, if Bill knew that book as well, he probably wouldn’t have been too thrilled to learn that Teddy owned a copy as well.

“Yeah, of course there’s not wrong,” said Hugo mischievously. “I’m going to write it all to Louis, tomorrow!”

“You will not, and who told you I’ve read it, anyway?”

Ron and Harry exchange an amused glance, knowing perfectly well there was no way Teddy hadn’t drawn lessons from that book.

“Back to you, Ron,” said Hermione, a glint in her eyes. “I understand that back then you had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but do you care to explain how it’s possible that, unlike Harry’s and Teddy’s books, yours didn’t prompt you to do the first move?” she teased.

Ron widened his eyes in theatrical astonishment. “Wait, are you telling me that talking about house elves in the middle of a battle isn’t considered a first move?” he asked, and nobody could bite back their grins.

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jbuffyangel · 5 years

Text

Strength: Arrow 8x05 Review (Prochnost)

We’re headed back to Russia for some Queen family vacation fun, except their version of “fun” is kidnappings and fight clubs.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver, Mia and William

Do you remember how we used to pray for a scene of Oliver teaching Felicity the bow and arrow?

The scenes with Helena fueled my hate fire for years. The closest we ever came to Olicity “training” was Oliver offering Felicity a few punching pointers

and the glorious salmon-ladder-leads-to-sex scene.

I’m not complaining! All I’m saying is we could’ve had a bow-and-arrow-training-leads-to-sex scene too. I have several insert-scenario-here-leads-to-sex scene ideas this show has yet to explore.

Anyway, if we can’t have Felicity training with Oliver then second best is their daughter training with Oliver. The intro to “Prochnost” is almost three minutes long and it’s pure fan fiction from start to finish.

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Oliver teaches Mia how to tennis ball and uses cooking as analogy before he remembers she’s 50% Smoak.

It is clear Mia still has a lot to learn not only from a vigilante perspective, but also in terms of her archer skills.

When we met Oliver Queen in the pilot his skill set was perfected. He was a fully formed bad ass.

We haven’t seen Mia train other than a montage with Nyssa Al Ghul in 7x16 and I am thoroughly enjoying there’s still a lot she can learn from her father.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

Oliver reviews all of his trick arrows with Mia, but doesn’t want them to become a crutch.

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What he doesn’t say is trick arrows became more of a necessity in disabling criminals after killing them was no longer an option. We’ve come a long way with Oliver Queen. If you had told me father/daughter training sessions were in our future when I watched the pilot then I would’ve laughed you out of the room because that’s a special brand of CRAZY.

Of course, a training scene without the stick thingies wouldn’t be a training scene on Arrow.

Source: miasmoakdaily

Yes, I know there’s a technical term for the stick thingies, but if I haven’t learned it by now do you think I ever will? No is the right answer.

Oliver: Nyssa taught you well.

Mia: Mom made sure of it.

I think Arrow makes an important point during this scene. Nyssa Al Ghul is good, but she’s no Oliver Queen. There’s been many seasons where it feels like the writers down played Oliver’s skills to give the other team members something to do *cough*L*urelLance*cough*.

However, the writers seem particularly focused on showing how Oliver’s skills are a whole other level now. Remember, he’s the guy who killed Ra’s Al Ghul – probably the greatest fighter of all time. It’s why Riccardo Diaz being a formidable threat was so laughable. When Felicity reached out to Nyssa she was asking the best for help, but there truly is no substitute for Oliver Queen.

Source: miasmoakdaily

Mia “The Machine” Smoak-Queen (her official title btw) doesn’t need a break, but I love how Oliver worries about her nonetheless. DADDY OLIVER IS SO SOFT.

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Mia gently reins in William’s ramble and this is the brother/sister banter I am here for. Look, I know we’ve clocked a season and a half with these kids and I should be used to moments where they remind me of Oliver and Felicity, BUT I CAN’T GET USED TO IT. It still fills me with absolute glee anytime it happens.

Children are individuals with unique personalities, but one of the more fun aspects of parenting is seeing traits of other family members, or maybe even yourself, emerge in the child you’re raising. I feel the same glee when my daughter reminds me of my husband or mother. And since William and Mia are my fictional TV children why should I be any different?

There’s a Curtis reference in this scene, so naturally I doze off when that happens, but the cliff notes version is the energy wave that destroyed Earth 2 can be recreated. There’s a Russian general trying to replicate it via pulse wave generator weapon and Team Arrow needs to get the plans.

I think. Plus they need plutonium which Diggle volunteers to get.

Oliver invites the kids to Russia with him and they are equally as shocked as I am.

Really? We’re going to Russia? I mean, I know we’re going to Russia, but Oliver’s casual invitation makes this trip sound like the equivalent of a grocery store run. The kids are so excited to be invited they think they’re going to Disney World with Dad.

This is so not going to be Disney World. TELL THEM THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE DISNEY WORLD OLIVER.

Oliver: I’m a better man. Different man. I think I can teach them the good without showing them the bad.

Oliver thinks this is going to be Disney World.

Diggle accurately points out visiting the place which was home to the darkest point of his life may not be as simple as Oliver would like it to be. His answer is equally wonderful and sooooo WRONG. It’s WONDERFUL Oliver believes he’s a better man. It took us 8 long years to get here and his statement is no small thing. Round of applause for our boy.

Unfortunately, this is where the wonderful ends. Oliver is determined to only show his children the good. I guess it sounds ok when he says it, but upon closer examination it misses the forest through the trees. Everything that happened to Oliver Queen, good and bad, has formed the person he is. He cannot extricate the bad from this story anymore than he can the good. They are a sticky wicket forever entwined together. Take out one and you don’t get the full picture. And what his children need and deserve is the full picture.

That’s not to say Oliver’s filter is entirely wrong. There are certainly topics and information children are not ready to hear, can’t understand, or wouldn’t be appropriate to tell them. Every parent has some kind of filter when raising their children because that’s what good parenting requires.

This is appropriate when children are small. As your child grows into an adult then your relationship with them must become more adult, which requires more transparency. This is the problem between Oliver and his children. He is parenting like William and Mia are still little. And they are not.

If plans for a pulse generator sound like a flimsy excuse to go to Russia then you’d be right. The real reason we’re going to Russia isn’t because of some rando general. It’s to say goodbye to one of Arrow’s greatest supporting characters - Anatoly Knyazev

“My brother.”

I block out most of Season 6 because half of it was a walking horror show, so I don’t remember where Oliver and Anatoly left things after he joined and then betrayed Team Bad Guy.

I guess their cool now? I don’t really want to spend all kinds of time on Oliver and Anatoly hashing out their issues, so if a hug gets the job done then I’m good. Also William speaks Russian. Queen men speaking foreign languages is hot.

A+ reaction Steve.

Source: arrowdaily

Anatoly was bored in the Maldives, now owns a bar and has a delicious pina colada recipe so that pretty much catches us up on him. He offers to help find Burov, but Oliver doesn’t want Anatoly’s “friends” involved because they are Bratva and he’s not discussing the bad parts of Russia with his children. I think the good parts of Russia ended at pina colada, Oliver. See how this is going to be a problem?

The best place to meet up with Burov is a local fight club. This prompts William to share where he met his baby sister and gives us Oliver’s best dad reaction to date.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

Bless you William. You do God’s work my boy.

Mia: Why did you bring us on this mission if you aren’t going to let us help?

Oliver: This is the Bratva. They are terrible people and you guys are my kids.

Mia: Yes, but we’re not children.

Oliver: Well you are when I look at you.

Aww… my sweet, lovable, wonderful Oliver.

Do we ever stop looking at our children as children? Probably not. I know I will always be my parents’ baby girl and my daughter will always be mine. It is difficult to fully accept a human being as an adult when you’ve changed their diapers. And in Oliver’s defense he changed Mia’s diaper about five minutes ago in the present timeline, regardless of the future adults standing before him. We must give him some time to… adjust.

But Mia is Mia and doesn’t listen to anyone, other than William (SOUND FAMILIAR?) and he’s firmly on her team this week, so they go to the fight club and watch Dad in action. Mia has heard the stories of her father all her life but seeing him in action is an eye-opening experience. She is difficult to impress, but her dad is AWESOME. Yeah, we think so too honey. Welcome to stanning Oliver Queen.

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Unfortunately, the Bratva aren’t cool with the deal Oliver made with Burov and kidnap him along with Mia. Her Spidey sense was tingling, so she went to check on dad. Oops.

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If there is one lesson the Arrow villains consistently fail to learn it’s DO NOT MESS WITH PEOPLE OLIVER QUEEN LOVES. He gets very angry and wildly unpleasant, which leads to many broken bones and occasionally murder. You put hands on Felicity Smoak and even I’m down with Oliver ripping off your head.

Of course, Oliver wakes from unconsciousness and his immediate question is if Mia is okay. Can’t-Admit-I’m-In-Love-With-You Oliver,

Boyfriend Oliver,

Fiance Oliver,

Ex-boyfriend Oliver,

Husband Oliver,

and Dad Oliver are all the same Olivers.

Mia doesn’t understand why everyone in Russia knows who Oliver is and quickly deduces Dad was Bratva. Our princess is a smart cookie! Oliver is ticked Mia didn’t listen to him and there is truly no greater justice in the world than God creating a child who is exactly like you. Robert and Moira are having themselves a nice little chuckle.

Source: lucyyh

The Bratva threatens to torture Mia if Oliver doesn’t tell them what’s on the zip drive. Mia is very brave and tells Daddy not to say anything. Pfft. Not likely Little Miss Square Bear. He points a gun at Oliver’s precious girl and counts down from five. The Green Arrow breaks like a pretzel. Honestly, I’m shocked Oliver didn’t give the guy the whole store after four.

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Unfortunately, nobody believes Oliver is telling the full story and a very large knife is brandished in Mia’s direction. Seriously? The one-time Oliver tells the truth he’s accused of lying. How ironic is that? The goon was at least 20 feet away from Mia, but Daddy was ready to flay him alive seven different ways.

Oh. He was only cutting the restraints. Okay, we’ll knock down the flaying to five different ways.

The Bratva force Mia to play the Ring the Bell game. I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but it works for my purposes. Oliver is very much HELL NO CHILD, but really her only other option is death. Of course, if she doesn’t ring the bell she dies too. ISN’T RUSSIA FUN?

Mia kicks major ass, but is unable to ring the bell in under 60 seconds. This might have something to do with her wasting time to look back at the clock and then waiting an additional 3 seconds to reach for the friggin bell, but that’s just details. Be less stupid Arrow.

The Bratva don’t shoot her because… they’re nice gang of Russian mobsters now?

Source: arrowdaily

This made very little sense other than Arrow doesn’t want to shoot the female lead of their new television show. On second thought, good enough for me. Oliver shoots death daggers at the man who scared the friggin bejesus out of him and it’s pretty much a certainty he will be flayed eight different ways.

William has a full-on panic attack over his father and sister’s kidnapping and it’s pretty much the cutest thing ever. Then L*urel actually provides some necessary and helpful information. Is that the second week in a row this happened? I’m scared fandom. Hold me.

L*urel: Aren’t the people in your family constantly injecting each other with tracking devices?

William: Normally I would say God I hope not, but now I guess I can see the advantages.

He’s able to track them down, but L*urel and Anatoly show up right after Oliver has already freed himself by dislocating his thumbs. I love that trick. Mia’s reaction is the perfect combination of horrified and impressed. She really wants that trick to be on the next lesson plan.

Mia is bumming hard over not ringing the bell and boozes it up with some scotch. THY NAME IS GENETICS.

Oliver has had enough of his kids almost dying and is putting their asses on a plane back home BECAUSE THIS ISN’T DISNEY WORLD.

William jumps firmly on Team Mia and reminds their father he’d be dead without them. Oliver has been dislocating his thumbs on his own for awhile now children. I think he’d survive without your help.

It’s time to set these kiddies straight.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Mia tries to argue the whole adults saving the city angle, but that’s not going to fly in this timeline cupcake.

In this timeline, Oliver smooshed those perfect chubby cheeks one more time before he left to save the universe

Source: oliverxfelicity

and his rebelling teenage son, who was ousted from the present storyline to make a ridiculous plot point work in the future storyline, ignored his phone calls. (I’m never getting over the whole William never moves in with Mia and Felicity thing. NEVER.)

So, all of his children can take several seats and do what they’re told or they will be grounded! That includes no computer for you, William and Oliver will be taking that bow and arrow back little miss Mia.

Side note: This was a perfect time for William to explain WHY he didn’t return any of Oliver’s calls or if he even received them, but NOPE. Why would these writers attempt to clean up this mess of a storyline with reasonable explanations? Better to just ignore the Grand Canyon sized plot holes and keep driving through.

Stephen Amell does a wonderful job in this scene as Oliver’s voice quivers with emotion. He’s skating the edge of keeping his composure and losing it all together perfectly this season. Neither Mia nor William have offered much understanding for where Oliver is coming from. Yes, they are adults but 1) No matter how old they get they will always be Oliver’s children and 2) HE MISSED TWENTY YEARS.

Oliver has been very clear this was not a choice he wanted to make. Mia and William are not the only ones who lost something precious. Oliver lost a lot too. Part of being an adult is letting go of the natural narcissism we all have as children. So, if Mia and William want to put on their big boy and big girl pants then they need to show their father a little understanding and compassion.

Mia: And because you made the choice to protect us I had to spend my whole life alone. I didn’t have a chance to get to know my brother to get to know you.

Mia is not ready to do that yet. She throws Oliver’s choices in his face once again. He is still the one she wants to blame. If this reaction frustrates you then that’s understandable because Mia is supposed to be frustrating right now. It’s odd for us to be identifying through Oliver, but that’s what happens when the hero becomes fully evolved. This entire episode is about showing how much Mia still has to learn not only physically, but emotionally too.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Oliver is getting used to Mia’s blame by now and it doesn’t really change his opinion on this situation. The worst part of this argument is Oliver believing his children hate him. His worst nightmare was Mia and William not understanding his choices and resenting him for it. Oliver’s greatest fear isn’t death. It is his children believing he abandoned them.

Mia being angry at Oliver over not growing up with William is really not his fault and it’s bizarre how the writers are insistent on lumping that in with everything else she’s ticked about. I did a deep dive on Mia’s emotional and psychological viewpoint last week and I won’t repeat it here because everything still stands. But how is Felicity never going back for William Oliver’s fault?

I’m not putting the blame on Felicity here either. It’s a ludicrous plot point that makes absolutely no sense, so it’s pointless to even try to argue the logic. And yet, that’s exactly what the writers keep trying to do. But it merely shines a brighter spotlight on their illogical reasoning behind the decision.

We are already sympathizing with Oliver because we know how heartbroken he was to leave his children. We know he sacrificed everything for a bunch of ungrateful twats who caught a lucky break for existing in the universe. But forcing Mia’s character to continually blame Oliver for EVERYTHING can rapidly make this character unlikeable. Particularly since her father left to SAVE THE UNIVERSE. The writers need to tread carefully. This has the same nonsensical threads of the Season 4 break up. Or, even worse, Mia channeling the same the anger/blame/bitterness of Season 1 & 2 L*urel Lance. Nobody wants a repeat of those hot messes.

Oliver is floundering. He missed twenty years of his children’s lives. They’ve arrived from a different time as adults. Oliver was still learning how to be a parent and then the universe flipped the board. He has no idea how to do this and the one person who can help him isn’t here. If there was ever a time Oliver needed his Felicity this is it.

So, the only guiding light Oliver has right now is the promise he made his wife and mother of his children.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Not to get too nitpicky on the details Oliver, but as @callistawolf pointed out in our Watchover episode of 8x05, we never heard him make any promises to Felicity about the children.

In their final goodbye, it was Felicity promising Oliver to do whatever was necessary to keep their children safe (re: Nyssa Al Ghul). So, let’s just create our own head canon there was some Olicity discussion about the future kids being in present day off screen and he made the promise to her then. Cool? Cool.

OR Oliver is merely trying to score points in an argument via emotional manipulation, which hey man. More power to you. Whatever it takes to keep kiddos safe, I guess. I did have to chuckle about Oliver keeping his promises to Felicity NOW that she’s off the show. Where was this guy in 6x23? Or maybe I sobbed quietly. Probably a little of both. Regardless of the reasoning, it’s an EPIC speech. Dad for the win.

Oliver decides it’s time to get boozy. Amen brother. Pass the scotch.

Anatoly is no Felicity Smoak, but in the ever-spinning weekly wheel of characters trying to fill her role, he asks the obvious question. Is Oliver sending his children home because he believes they cannot handle Russia/vigilantism/life?

Of course, the answer has been obvious from the moment Oliver decided to only share the good. It’s not about what his children can handle. This is about what Oliver can handle.

Anatoly: That is understandable. You’re ashamed. You have truly done some terrible things.

Oliver: Thank you for the reminder.

Anatoly: But you also have done some good things. It’s important that the kids see both.

Can’t you just hear Felicity Smoak saying these lines? Only in an adorable ramble and less booze? I miss her. Just leaving this here.

I absolutely understand Oliver’s refusal to share the darkest moments of his past. It’s not like my dad has gone chapter and verse into his Vietnam experiences. But I know he was there. I know some of the stories. Maybe Oliver doesn’t need to go into detail about the time he skinned a guy, but he can be honest with his children about being in the Bratva.

Anatoly: That’s the thing about teaching. It’s not about what you want to say. It’s about what they need to hear.”

This part of the speech is all Anatoly.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

He taught Oliver living was not for the weak because this was the lesson Oliver needed to hear. Maybe he missed out on teaching William and Mia how to tie their shoes or ride a bike, but nobody understands what it means to be a hero better than Oliver Queen. The Crisis is coming and if Oliver is marching slowly but steadily to his death then he must pass on all he’s learned. There is still so much to teach Mia and William about Oliver’s life and who he is. Those lessons can only come from their father. What William and Mia need to hear is the truth.

“You were so little. I think that’s what I’ve always wanted all these years. Is for you just to stay little, quiet and safe. But you’re not any of those things. You’re loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of me.” Derek Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy

His children are loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of Oliver Queen. But there’s a deeper fear driving his hesitation. Oliver is afraid that if he tells Mia and William the truth about his past then they’ll only hate him more. He is constantly afraid of losing his children’s love.

But truth is the path to understanding. Anatoly is right. Oliver must give Mia and William a chance. The real truth is there’s nothing he has done or will ever do that will make his children stop loving him. Sure, Mia is angry at Oliver, but she’s only angry because she loves him. She craves her father’s approval more than anything.

Oliver changes his parenting tactic. He cannot shield his children from the very life they have chosen for themselves. He asks Mia to fight in the ring with him and William to help get them in. Oliver treats his children like they are part of the team – like partners.

Mia has been trying to show her father what she’s capable of since the moment she came to the present. Underneath all that anger and blame, is a little girl who just wants to make her daddy proud. What Mia needs to realize is she already makes Oliver proud merely by existing. However, he offers her the support and belief she’s been craving as they enter the ring together.

Source: oliverxfelicity

The look on her face says everything about how Mia truly feels about her dad.

Source: arrowdaily

FATHER DAUGHTER FIGHT CLUB. From the moment, we met Blackstar in the ring I hoped she was Olicity’s daughter and we would somehow, someway get a scene of Oliver and Mia teaming up. But I never imagined these circumstances. It’s awesome.

After kicking butt as a team and a family, Oliver opens the door to his past and lets his children walk through. And what better place to start than the beginning?

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The truth is a tie that binds and it will be the foundation of Oliver’s relationship with his children. Something he never had with his parents until it was too late.

And did William and Mia stop loving Oliver after they heard the truth? No. They understand him better and love him all the more for what he’s survived.

Mia: Don’t forget to send me that picture of my dad with that haircut.

Anatoly: Don’t forget to ask about Bratva tattoo. We have matching.

Oliver: Used to. Used to actually.

William: Oh I’m gonna need to hear that story immediately.

Well... son this raving loony burned my tattoo off my chest after several hours of torture.

The warm banter of this scene isn’t to make light of what Oliver Queen suffered. It’s to show the power of telling our stories. Pain and fear lose control over us, bit by bit, the more we talk about it and share with our loved ones. We let them inside the good and bad, so we don’t have to carry it by ourselves anymore. Overtime, we begin to see our suffering for what it is - something we survived. Children, in particular, have an ability to find the light in the dark. We can see our life through their eyes and remarkably, yes even find the humor in what was once unspeakable pain. And come on - Oliver’s flashback hair is always funny.

Family is the source of Oliver’s strength. It always has been. It’s what helped him survive the unsurvivable.

He can only become his children’s strength by teaching them how he became a better man. William and Mia can only understand who their father is, and how to be heroes, by knowing the good and the bad. Hiding either tarnishes the beauty of his story. Oliver is finally strong enough to tell it and his children are strong enough to hear it. And that’s how the past, present and future will find harmony, acceptance, forgiveness and love.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Diggle and Roy

John enlists Roy’s help obtaining the plutonium.

Source: thistributeisonfire

We’re going to run through this pretty quick because this storyline is all about getting Colton Haynes back on Team Arrow for the final episodes.

Diggle tells Roy what happens to him in the future. The cure for Roy’s bloodlust wasn’t hiding out on Lian Yu for 20 years. It was rejoining the team and fighting for the city again.

Diggle: Maybe this time you don’t have to wait that long.

Diggle’s ENTIRE motivation is to change Roy’s future and it’s not difficult to figure out why. Obviously John cares about Roy and wants to help him. However, Roy also makes a very good test case. Diggle is also desperate to change Connor, JJ and Zoe’s future as well. If they can make their own hope in the present then maybe things can be different for his children in the future.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

We all need love and support. None of us can truly survive on our own - particularly when we are suffering. Roy fights John at first, but eventually he comes to realize he’s right. Roy found purpose and family when he met Oliver so it makes sense to him they are the reason he gets better. So why wait? He comes home and begins the path to healing twenty years earlier. And thus, a major storyline from Season 7 flash forwards begins to change.

ROY MADE SENSE Y’ALL!!!

L*urel L*nce

I truly could not figure out why L*urel was in Russia. I guess to help Oliver track down these plans, but she spent the better part of the episode staring at her fingernails. That’s not even an exaggeration. KC stared at her fingernails for an entire scene.

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Her interactions with Oliver are even more bizarre.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

I’m sorry, but does L*urel go here? Bl*ck S*ren has been on the show since Season 5. You’d think at this point she’d know Oliver Queen can easily handle one guy twice his size. I’m chalking up this stupidity to the acting version of a layup, so Stephen Amell can spike it with the epic comeback of, “I’ll give him half a chance.”

I guess L*urel is primarily in Russia to betray Oliver Queen and steal the plans or something, per Lyla’s instructions.

LL: And here I thought I was supposed to be the bad guy.

At last count Lyla never murdered innocent people, so I think she's still ahead by the numbers Bl*ck S*ren. This is the problem with L*urel’s character this year. The comparisons her character makes this season are INSANE. Putting on a new suit and calling yourself Bl*ck C*nary doesn’t automatically make you morally superior to everyone.

At least when Season 7 L*urel was playing attorney she had a healthy perspective on herself. I was a big fan of the snark last season and found her character to be refreshingly amusing in her biting honesty, but this year the writers lost the snarky humor and have gone straight to obnoxious hypocrisy and judgment. Sometimes she’s just downright mean in a way none of the other characters deserve. Yes, Lyla is being shady, but this in no way erases the horrors of your past L*urel.

L*urel: If saving it means going back to the person I used to be then what the hell is the point?

We all know this whole betray Oliver thing the Monitor is playing at with L*urel is a trick. She’s not going to betray Oliver and prove herself a worthy and useful hero. Ok. Whatever. I know I’m supposed to get excited about her big speech, but this line kind of gnawed at me.

L*urel is unwilling to save an ENTIRE EARTH because she’d have to do something shady. She’s not willing to do any dirty work if it sullies her good name. So, Earth 2 only matters as long as L*urel gets to be a hero on it? I guess I should be happy L*urel is holding onto her moral center, but if there’s anything Oliver Queen’s story has taught us sometimes heroism requires doing unpleasant things for the greater good.

Take Lyla for example – a person L*urel feels quite comfortable judging. Lyla has been lying to her husband, something she does not want to do, for the greater good. I think we know enough about Lyla’s character by now that even though her actions are hurtful we can trust her reasons.

LL’s primary function this week it seems is to rat Lyla out to Diggle and Oliver.

Source: stevesrogered

I guess we’re supposed to rejoice there’s no price L*urel is willing to pay for her morality, but this is still the same person who has yet to take any responsibility for the people she’s murdered. The line just sounded so arrogant and self serving to me. I don’t know. Maybe it was just KC’s delivery.

It’s been difficult for me to imagine what role either L*urel or Dinah will play in the spin off and seeing as how the writers are struggling to find a purpose for their characters in the final season of Arrow I am not encouraged. That said, L*urel’s scene with Mia was one of the few bright spots for her character in this week’s episode. Mia believes she’s not cut out to be a hero because she failed to ring the bell like her father and Zoe’s death still weighs heavily on her conscious.

Mia: Every time I try and live up to my dad or to prove I can do what it is you all do. I fail.

L*urel: If you’re trying to live up to us, don’t. We are just as flawed as anyone. Especially me. All you can do is live up to yourself.

Damn L*urel. That was really good advice and a truthful reflection of the person you are. CAN WE HAVE THIS ATTITUDE CONSISTENTLY WEEK TO WEEK PLEASE WRITERS? This is the first time I can see a version of L*urel working in the spin off, but that’s always the problem with the writing of her character. We never know which version we’re going to get.

Season 8 is slipping back into very bad Season 1 habits. There’s a lack of cohesiveness with L*urel and they really need to get this sorted out before the new show hits the air. Otherwise, we’re going to have the same problem we’ve always had with her character. No matter how many versions of L*urel’s character these writers create they never figure out who she truly is because they don’t want to devote the necessary screen time. This leaves us with a half baked canary every single time.

If L*urel is going to play Rupert Giles to Mia’s Buffy in the spin off then this scene is a good indication of how it could work, but that’s only if this path stays on track which seldom happens with this character. The key to LL is a very specific supporting role. She worked great in Season 7 because her focus was getting Oliver Queen out of jail. Then,it was about fleshing out her redemption and shipping her back to E2 to make amends.

L*urel lacks a concrete To Do list this year. They toss her into scenes and she takes up space looking at her fingernails. Or she arrives a few minutes after Oliver frees himself to scream down a door he could have easily opened. Or she says something hypocritical and nasty. REALLY? This is the best these writers can come up with? Sadly, history points to yes.

Keep her scenes short. Keep her scenes specific. Keep her scenes supporting. That’s the only way this character works. And believe me I wish it was different, but there doesn’t seem to be any version of L*urel L*nce these writers can keep a handle on.

You know what I appreciate about this scene between Anatoly and William though? Anatoly addresses his less than honorable past and apologizes. I can’t fully remember what Anatoly did to William - I think it might have been related to kidnapping or a bomb or a nuke or all three. See? I told you I don’t remember S6. My point is - can we expect an apology from L*urel for being an accessory to William’s mother’s murder? I won’t hold my breath. It would be extremely helpful if they addressed LL’s past in an honest way and actually had her show remorse to one of her victims, but again that requires more screen time and effort than this show is ever will to give her character.

SO WHY DO THEY KEEP HER AROUND?

Stray Thoughts

Connor isn’t in this week’s episode because he’s checking in on Sandra. Soooo… Connor can visit his mother but Mia and William can’t visit theirs? I know this is yet another EBR plot hole, but find a better reason for Connor to be MIA writers. It just makes the Smoak-Queen family look uncaring, which we know they are not. And if Connor can get an off camera mother moment mention then why can’t Mia and William? THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT ANNOY ME.

“Has anyone fought six men before?” Mia and Oliver’s side eye is hilarious, but didn’t Mia fight six goons by herself? And we’ve watched Oliver take down twenty without breaking a sweat. Raise the number in the ring a little if you want me to take their hesitation seriously.

Diggle is absolutely horrified to find out Lyla is working against the team with The Monitor. “I didn’t want to believe it was true.” Boy, really? Who are you kidding? This is Lyla Michaels, super spy. She’s been lying and doing shady things from minute one. She’s the Oliver to your Felicity. Get out of here with that nonsense. This is totally something she would do and you know it. Lol

William doesn’t like the field, but the allure of beautiful couture convinces him otherwise. At least he didn’t have to go on a skeevy date with Ray Palmer to wear it. Source: felicitysmoakgifs

William’s “Wrap it up” sign while Mia was fighting was such a funny and wonderful way of showing their team within a team.

“I can be the fun uncle.” Raise your hand if you want Anatoly as a fun uncle.

He was a complicated, but ultimately wonderful character who made Arrow a better show.

Goodbye Anatoly. I will miss you. source: oliverxfelicity

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 8x05 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

Text

Questions

A/N: This is the product of challenge 3 side RPs done with @hugo-stanton and @arin-schreave . I feel compelled to mention that Evalin has definitely NEVER read 50 Shades of Grey before. With that, I’ll leave you to it!

I really didn’t have much of a clue as to what was going on. The note, once again, had arrived while I was out of the room - probably when I had been in the library studying, or perhaps when I had been out running, or talking to Idalia, or doing other tasks that demanded my attention. Regardless, all I knew was that my maids were now getting me ready for someone to take photos of me this afternoon at the beach. I couldn’t help but wonder why photos were only being taken now, so far into the Selection already, but perhaps it really wasn’t my place to question this. There must be a good reason, anyway.

The other question I had was how appropriate my appearance was for the setting of these photographs. Grace had insisted that I needed to wear heels to this photography session, but I was having trouble discerning a logical explanation for her assertion. The photos were to be taken on a beach, after all. Grace must have never tried to walk in a pair of heels in the sand, because it was near impossible to do. I had managed to take all of three steps before stopping dead in my tracks and leaning down, undoing the thin straps of the heels and deciding to just walk barefoot with them in my hand until I found this photographer.

The other issue with my appearance at the moment was the fact that my hair was completely down, loose and unbound, the wind tossing it every which way, specifically right in my face. A few strands kept finding their way to my lips, which led me to believe that my makeup was probably wonderfully smudged already. The whole look was rather impractical. That was fine, though. I supposed I just had to get this over with.

Shielding my eyes from the sun, I caught sight of someone - a man - crouching by a log, holding a camera up to his face. Deciding that he must be the photographer, I dropped my hand, tucking the same loose strands of hair behind my ears for the umpteenth time and looking down at the sand as I walked, intent on avoiding stepping on anything sharp. I really didn’t need to bleed in front of another man while I was here. Once was more than enough. I didn’t need to make that a habit.

“Hello,” I called as I approached, offering the photographer a small wave as my eyes flitted between the sand beneath my feet and his face. Something about him was unsettlingly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place what it was.

It’s probably nothing.

The photographer lowered his camera, looking up at me and rising to his feet with a smile on his face. “Hi, Evalin,” he began, extending his hand towards me. “I’m Hugo.”

So he knew my name, then. Funny how some people were good with that sort of information, whereas others had only learned my name after a few weeks of us living under the same roof. Hugo probably met a lot of people in his line of work, though, I figured, so he had probably had to get good at memorizing names.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hugo.” I shook his hand, offering him another smile before pulling my hand back and leaning down to put on my shoes, not dropping his eye contact as I did. My fingers fumbled with the straps. Damn them for being so tiny. “Sorry about this - sand and heels don’t mix, apparently!”

Hugo simply shook his head and waved his hand dismissively at my shoes. “Oh, you can leave them off if you like. I imagine they’re not very comfortable.”

“Oh.” I had to laugh at that. He was right, of course, but his answer still surprised me a little nonetheless. I wasn’t about to argue with him, though, so I placed my shoes in the sand, quickly making a mental note of what they were near. There was the log, and a small grouping of rocks. It shouldn’t be too hard to find this spot again. “Okay, yeah, that’s a lot easier for me, thank you!” Looking at him once more, I clasped my hands together in front of me. “So, is there something in particular you want me to do right now? I don’t really know how this works.”

I didn’t even know what I was doing here, to be honest. Was this something I had signed up for? I had no memory of doing so, but maybe I had signed some paper or another without even thinking about it, distracted by the million and one other things I had to do. The policy proposal was demanding most of my mental focus at the moment. I didn’t feel like it was as far reaching enough as it could be, or far reaching enough to make much of an impact at all, but I couldn’t come up with a solution that would rectify that before the damned thing was due. I could only hope that what I had come up with was satisfactory enough to keep me around here for at least a little while longer.

Long enough to receive another kiss from Arin, maybe.

God, I was the hopeless one, wasn’t I?

I snapped back out of my thoughts as Hugo nodded, smiling at me. “Why don’t you sit down on the log and we’ll take it from there?”

I was pretty confident in my ability to do that. “Sure.” I smiled back at him, brushing the wrinkles out of my dress once I had taken a seat on the log. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable chair, but it wasn’t too unbearable. I could handle it. Still, chatter might be a welcome way to distract myself, and it seemed like Hugo might be a better conversationalist than some of the other people I had been talking to recently. It was worth a shot. “So, what got you into photography, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Hugo took a few steps backwards before taking a seat on the sand, crossing his legs like a pretzel. He began to fiddle with his camera, instantly drawing my attention to the device. It looked nice, though I didn’t know the first thing about photography, so I could have been very incorrect about that. I was willing to bet that he was adjusting the settings, though, to account for the lighting of the beach. “My aunt used to be in the film industry,” he finally answered, “so that’s where it came from, I think.”

“That’s so cool!” I responded with a smile. Had his aunt worked as a camerawoman, then? I was close to recommending that he talk to Indie, since that seemed right up her alley, but something had me biting my tongue, keeping my advice at bay. “You’ve been doing this for quite a while, then?” I asked instead.

“A few years,” he replied with a shrug, lifting his head to look at me once more.

“Oh.” I inclined my head slightly to the right, narrowing my eyes at him ever so slightly, as if I could pull the answers I sought out of him with my vision alone. Most of the Fives I had met had begun pursuing their craft at a younger age, in their early teens, mostly, in order to perfect it by the time they were young adults. My own mother had done just that, based on the stories of her childhood that she’d shared with my siblings and I. How had he made a living before finding photography? He looked young enough, sure, but definitely a good few years older than me. Maybe he just looked older than he actually was, though.

My curiosity got the better of me. “Did you have another job before this, then?”

Hugo shook his head, looking at me with an expression that showed me that I had just caught him red-handed. So, he hadn’t, then. Interesting, indeed! “Does being a student count as a job?”

I was only growing more confused with each answer he gave me. He had had enough money to go to school for photography, or at least that was what I assumed he had studied, and yet he hadn’t held a job before then? That was practically unheard of for a Five. I could only imagine the reaction my mother would have when I shared this story with her.

I laughed a little at his response, then, pushing my own prying questions aside in the interest of being polite. “I’d argue yes, but as a student myself, I think I’m a bit biased.”

His camera was already up, the shutter flashing, as he captured his desired image. Still, he continued the conversation nonetheless. “What are you in school for?”

“Biology, actually.” Maybe I can use this as a segue into my own questions. “What about you - what did you study?” Perhaps he was simply an insanely wealthy Two or Three - a lawyer, or an engineer, perhaps - who had discovered he had a passion for photography, and had picked it up as a hobby. I was interested in why the palace would hire him, then, as opposed to a Five who did this sort of work to make a living, especially since Princess Mélanie seemed so sympathetic to the plight of the lower castes, from what I had seen and heard of her work.

“Arts,” Hugo answered, snapping another photo before continuing, “but some strings had to be pulled to make that happen, so I’m not sure how fair it is I had the opportunity.”

“Well,” I began, unsure of how to respond to that. All I knew was that I could not allow myself to frown, even if it was only in consternation. That would not look pleasing in a picture. I shifted my position a bit, doing my best to keep my face down and hidden as I considered my next words. “If that’s your passion, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to pursue it.”

I wholeheartedly believed that statement. It was actually somewhat related to the policy proposal I had saved in my drafts on my computer, though different enough that his experience couldn’t be used as an example of how my proposed policy could be beneficial to Illéa as a whole.

Once again, Hugo shrugged. “I’m happy enough,” he reassured me, smiling as he pulled the camera away from his face.

“That’s good.” I nodded back at him, my smile falling a bit and my eyes narrowing as I considered his words. Happy enough, but not happy. What was holding him back from that last bit of contentment, then? Did he really feel so guilty about studying the arts in university that it kept him from being completely happy?

The sound of waves crashing against the short pulled my attention away from him then, and I turned to watch them roll in, and then flow back out, pulled by a force none of us could see. As if in response, some strands of my hair flew out from behind my ears, blowing in the direction of the waves. I smiled a bit as I pushed them back where I wanted them to be, though it was starting to get on my nerves. Despite that, I could hear the shutter of Hugo’s camera, and decided it was best to keep my negative emotions at bay for the time being. Maybe I needed more sleep, or maybe just more time to relax, but either way, I shouldn’t take it out on Hugo, or the photos. He had been nothing but kind, no matter how confused his tales of his life left me.

I heard him standing up, and before I could fully drag my attention away from the waves, he had already made his way over to me, his hand held out towards me, palm upwards. “Why don’t we go down by the water?”

I placed my hand in his, feeling a faint blush form on my face at the touch. His hands were smooth - practically uncalloused. This man hadn’t done a day of hard labor in his life, and he definitely had never played a string instrument, that much I was almost one-hundred percent certain of. Who was he?

I pushed that aside yet again, instead offering him a, “Thank you,” as I rose to my feet, shaking my head as I looked back at the water. “That’d be nice. It’s been so long since I’ve actually been to the beach. I don’t know why I haven’t come down here sooner.”

“It’s pretty nice down here,” he agreed, looking out at the water himself now. He pointed a finger off towards the expanse of beach that lay to my right. “If you go down that way maybe ten to fifteen minutes, there’s a little lagoon.”

I followed his finger, squinting as if that would somehow magically bring the lagoon into view. It was definitely too far for me to see. It was foolish to even try. Still, maybe I could incorporate it into some of my morning runs, if I could find it. It’d be nice to shake up my route a little bit, anyway, and dipping my feet in the water would probably feel really good after running in the dry, Angeles heat. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, thank you!” Turning to him then, I smiled, and asked, “Are there any razor clams around there? Those things used to scare me like nothing else whenever I went to the beach as a kid.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Maybe scared wasn’t the right word - startled was more like it. As a child, I had somehow managed to convince myself that being hit by the water those stupid little clams squirted into the air whenever somebody got too close would hurt like a bee sting, or being hit by a water balloon. I had often clung to my father’s arm whenever one of my brothers called out that they had found some razor clams, doing whatever it took to circumnavigate my way to the ocean, just to avoid being hit by the clams’ water. It was so silly of me, but I had been a rather skittish kid.

Hugo sucked in a breath before answering. “Gosh, I don’t know. I’m not the right person to ask. That’s more Arin’s thing.”

Arin had a thing for marine ecology? I raised an eyebrow, remembering the questions Reggie had asked me in the library all those weeks ago. Was that somehow related to this new revelation about Arin’s interest? Hell, the fact that he had actual interests outside of running the country was news to me. I chucked a bit as I stepped into the water. “Really? Interesting! I’ll have to keep that in mind then.”

Wait a minute. How does Hugo know that?

I narrowed my eyes at the photographer, furrowing my brows. “How do you know him?” If he had only been a photographer for a few years, he couldn’t be the one responsible for most of the royal photographs I had seen prior to coming here. He shouldn’t have had enough time to build up such a casual rapport with Arin - comfortable enough to call him by only his first name, with no title or honorific.

Who the hell was this guy?

He shot me an expression that was somewhere between sheepish and guilty as he admitted, “We’re cousins.”

Oh, maybe that’s why his face looks kind of familiar, then.

My eyes went a little wide, and I covered my mouth with my hand for a moment, trying my best to hide the shock that was undoubtedly still evident on my face. Once I had taken a second to compose myself again, I pulled my hand away from my face. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I had no clue!”

“Why are you sorry?” His confusion was written all over his face. Unlike his cousin, he wore his emotions openly, it seemed. “If I ran into one of your cousins, I wouldn’t know who they were unless they told me.”

I looked around for a moment, attempting to come up with a response. “Yeah, but…” I trailed off. My family isn’t famous, or royalty, and I don’t have any cousins. I couldn’t blurt that out without thinking. I had to learn to stem the flow of my words before they seriously got me in trouble one of these days. So I looked at him again, offering a small smile and waving my hand through the air. “Never mind,” I decided, turning to look down at the water as it lapped at my feet. It was a lot colder than I had expected it would be.

Hugo didn’t respond, instead taking a few steps backwards and fiddling with his camera again, which now hung around his neck. I looked back over my shoulder at him. Maybe I should try a new topic of conversation, then. “Have you lived in Angeles your whole life?”

He shook his head, his body going still as he lined up his next shot. “No, I was born in France, actually. Have you lived in your province your whole life?”

For someone who had supposedly grown up abroad, he didn’t have much of a discernible accent, at least not to me. Then again, maybe I was just used to my grandfather’s thick Northern Swendish accent. There were times that I could barely understand what he was trying to say when he endeavored to speak English. Hugo didn’t seem to have that difficulty, though. He must have had a great education, then.

I nodded in response to his question. “During the school year, yes. When we were younger, though, my parents would send my siblings and I to Swendway with our grandparents for the summer. They still have this little cabin near Tromsø, but they don't like to live there year round because of how cold it gets. It’s fun in the summer, though, because the sun never sets.”

I could feel my smile growing as I spoke, the memories of my childhood summers flooding back all at once. My grandfather loved to take my siblings and I out on a little sailboat he had docked at the local marina. We’d all do our best to distract him so he didn’t realize how late it was getting, and then whenever he did realize, we’d inform him that we couldn’t possibly go to bed yet, because the sun was still up. He’d always chuckled at our mischief, but I was sure he must have gotten tired of it after a while. Yet, neither he nor my grandmother had ever reprimanded any of us. I missed those summers. It had been ages since any of us had been back, thanks to the ongoing conflict with Swendway. It wasn’t exactly the safest place for an Illéan to travel at the moment, much to my own disappointment.

A new light shone in Hugo’s eyes once I had finished regaling him with the tales of my summers past. “That must be beautiful. I only ever visited Swendway once before…” he trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

What had happened when he had gone to Swendway?

I tilted my head a bit to the right, keeping my smile in tact as I asked, “When?”

“I was a teenager,” he answered, his own smile reappearing now. It wasn’t much of an answer, seeing as I didn’t know how old he was, but I assumed that that had to mean it was before the relations between Illéa and Swendway had taken a turn for the worse.

“Me too,” I replied, laughing a little, “though I guess that’s not saying much in terms of how long ago it was. We stopped going once my older siblings started heading off to college. Timing got too complicated, and all that. So it’s been a few years.” Or so that was the reason my parents had fed me when I was fourteen. It felt like a safer explanation to give him, somehow. “Where in Swendway did you go?”

“Geirangerfjord,” he answered smoothly. A hint of hesitation crept over his face then, and in a more tense tone of voice, he added, “and Stockholm, of course.”

“Naturally,” I replied, nodding. It only made sense that he had been to the capital of Swendway. My own father had grown up there, mostly, thanks to my grandfather’s job. It was a lovely city, based on what I had been told by both my father and his parents, with cobbled streets and some buildings over hundreds of years old. Now, though, I could understand why visiting there could be a point of contention. I’d better change the subject again. “Sounds like you’ve had the chance to travel a lot!”

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I have, and I’d love to go back.”

“Me too, one day,” I agreed, looking up at the sky and gesturing around a bit with my right hand. “I’ve got other things to do first, though.” I looked back at him then, laughing a bit, though it felt more forced than it had before. There was so much to do at this point in my life. Weren’t you supposed to gain more freedom as you grew up? It certainly didn’t feel that way to me.

Hugo laughed along. “I think we all have a lot we want to do.”

“Of course,” I replied smoothly, flashing him a joking smile as I turned to face him more, gently kicking a little of the water in the process. “We just need a time machine to do it all.”

“A time machine?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he looked at me.

“I mean, there’s just so much to do, and so little time to try and do it all,” I attempted to explain. It was an age-old problem, I had supposed, but maybe it wasn’t as relatable as I had thought. I cleared my throat, looking up at the sky, holding my left hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. My hair tickled the bare skin of my neck as the wind blew it backwards this time, out of my face. That wasn’t my main concern as I took in the rapidly darkening sky, though. “Are those storm clouds?”

He looked up as well then, nodding once as he took in the sky. “Looks like it. That blew in quickly, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I frowned as I made my way back out of the water. In Carolina, it wasn’t uncommon for storms to pop up and then dissipate within the span of a couple of hours, especially during the summer, but I hadn’t seen that happen here, yet. I had a feeling we were in for a long afternoon and evening of much needed precipitation. “I think this will actually be the first time it’s rained since I’ve been here.”

Hugo glanced down at his camera, a frown forming on his face. “Maybe we should head back.”

“Yeah, that seems like the best idea,” I agreed, already making my way up the beach towards my shoes. “Your camera looks very nice, and I’d hate for it to get damaged.”

“It’s just a thing, but I’d love it if it didn’t get wet,” he called after me, following me up the beach. So, he wasn’t incredibly materialistic, then. Each word that came out of his mouth was like another piece of a puzzle, but instead of the pieces coming together to form a clear picture of Hugo, none of them seemed to quite fit together.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Entirely understandable.”

“Well,” he began, his pace speeding up as he attempted to close the distance between us, “if we’re quick, it won’t be an issue.”

A bit ironic that that’s coming from the guy who’s trying to catch up with me, isn’t it?

“Good thing I like to run, then!” I replied with a laugh.

Hugo just made a face at that. “I don’t run. Speed walking is the most you’ll get from me.”

At this point, I had kind of figured that out, but I laughed anyway as I looked at him over my shoulder once again. “Ah, but you’re tall.” It was true. He couldn’t have been more than an inch shorter than Arin. “That makes up for the speed difference.”

“I’m pretty sure multiple people would disagree with you,” he replied with a small laugh.

I raised an eyebrow, my chest still rising and falling with silent laughter. I hadn’t met his entire family yet, but they didn’t seem like giants compared to him. “What, are you a stop and smell the roses kind of guy?”

He waited a few seconds before responding, and then settled on, “I’ve never had anyone say that about me, but I guess I am.” With that, he began to hum thoughtfully, his mind no doubt embarking on a small journey of self-reflection over a sentence I hadn’t even thought about as it had flown out of my mouth.

I offered him a reassuring smile. “Nothing wrong with appreciating the small wonders of life! Sometimes it’s nice to just be able to take your time and really enjoy something.” That was quite possibly the most hypocritical thing to ever come out of my mouth. “Though, it doesn’t seem like many of us get to do that anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, glancing over his shoulder to check on the clouds, which were blotting out more of the sky now. We really needed to get a move on to save his camera. Yet, he turned back to me, and asked, “What do you take your time on?”

I pursed my lips, mulling it over. What did I take my time to enjoy, anymore? Sure, I enjoyed my studies, and could easily lose myself in the details of them, but it was still something I did in part out of necessity, and not entirely for fun. “I used to like watching ballets,” I admitted, attempting to remember what it had felt like to watch one, years ago when I had in high school, “and taking time to enjoy every detail that went into making the production as a whole so breathtaking, but I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve done that.” I too turned to look up at the clouds now, rubbing my right forearm with my left hand. I didn’t know why admitting that one detail about myself had left me feeling so exposed - vulnerable, even - yet I found myself half tempted to find an excuse to run away from the conversation.

“Angeles has a pretty fantastic ballet company, if you ever have the time to go.” The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a grin, something sparking in his eyes as he spoke. “You could have Arin take you sometime.”

Bold of you to assume that I “could,” have Arin do anything he doesn’t explicitly want to do himself.

Despite the fact that I was beginning to wonder if Hugo and I were in fact referring to the same person when we said, “Arin,” I found myself smiling at the idea. “I would quite like that, if he ever has the chance. He seems pretty busy, usually, though.” When he’s not drinking, or kissing girls. “Not that I can blame him! It’s just difficult to get to know someone when you’ve only accidentally bumped into them twice, and been on one date that was more a series of unfortunate incidents than it was a date.”

God, why was I telling him this?

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t catch what you mean, sorry.”

That was probably for the better. I waved my hand through the air as best I could while still holding my shoes. They bounced against each other, the sound of them knocking together hollower than I had thought it would be. “Don’t worry about it! The ballet sounds lovely, and I really hope I get the chance to go at some point.”

“Just ask him,” he reiterated, flashing me a reassuring smile, “it can’t hurt.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a nervous laugh. Maybe he was right. Was it worth the risk, though, was the question holding me back.

Something wet landed on my arm then, prompting me to stop where I stood, only a few meters away from the palace doors. Rain. When was the last time I had felt the rain on my skin? May, maybe? Definitely sometime before I had come to Angeles. That felt like so much longer than only a little over a month ago.

Beside me, Hugo had stopped as well, looking up at the sky as a few drops landed on his face. A stop and smell the roses kind of guy, indeed. That much was painfully obvious now. I looked away, revelling in the feeling of the rain on my own face. Without even thinking, I wandered a little further away from the doors, walking in a small circle as I looked upwards at the clouds. I had never noticed how much I had taken something as simple as the rain for granted.

“As much as I’d love to stay out here in the rain, my camera wouldn’t.”

I spun around to look back at him, my skirt swirling around me as I did, only to find him staring right back at me, a small smile on his face. “Right, of course.” I felt myself begin to blush again, though I was doing my best to convince myself that the blood wasn’t rushing to my face simply at the thought of him watching me as I was lost in thought. I walked over towards the doors, intent on getting the door for him, since he was holding something valuable, and I only had my shoes in my hands, which I should probably put back on now, anyways. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the rain, and I got a little distracted.”

“You can stay, if you like,” he offered, shrugging and then laughing a little. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your chance to see the rain.”

I shook my head as I reached for the door handle. As much as I would have liked to stay in the rain, I knew it would be a poor decision to do so. “I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t. I’m afraid there’s other things I should be doing instead.” A certain policy proposal was still sitting on my laptop, having undergone only one round of edits thus far. I really wanted it to be as good as I could possibly make it, if only to make a lasting impression on whoever was judging our proposals. Maybe they’d put in a good word for me. That’d be nice.

“Well, then hopefully it rains again sometime when you don’t have things to do.”

I looked down, attempting to hide my frown at his words as I opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open with one hand for him to grab. What did he mean by that? Did I really seem that obsessed with the rain? It was probably nothing. I was probably overthinking it. “One of these days, maybe.”

I let go of the door once I felt that he had grabbed it. “Thank you,” he said from behind me. I turned to face him then, watching him shake his head like a dog in an effort to dislodge some of the raindrops that lingered in his hair as the door closed shut behind him.

I brushed my fingers through my own hair, smiling a bit as I watched him. What an odd man. Still, he was rather nice, and that was very much appreciated. “Well, I know that didn’t go exactly as planned, but thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he responded, smiling as well. “I really appreciate how willing you were to help out.”

I felt my smile widen a bit, even as I slowly began to back down the hallway, clasping my hands in front of me. “Right, well, I should probably get going, but thank you again!”

“Have a good rest of your day, Evalin.” He turned to head down the hallway in another direction, looking over his shoulder at the last moment to add, “I'll see you around.”

“You too!” I turned away then, intent on making it up to my room and changing out of my slightly damp dress as quickly as possible. My thoughts kept flitting from Hugo’s words, to the advice he had given me about asking Arin to take me to the ballet, and then back to the work I should undoubtedly be doing instead of thinking of all this. Maybe I could multitask, though - write Arin a letter, and then get some work done as I waited for his reply. Yes, that seemed reasonable.

As soon as I was changed into a dry, more casual dress, and no longer wearing heels, I began drafting my letter to Arin. A letter seemed like the way to go - it was more polite than just barging into his office unannounced, that was for sure. Plus, it gave Julia the time to braid my hair as I wrote, which was probably for the better, since my hair had gotten more unruly than usual, after getting wet. I smiled down at my letter after finishing, looking it over briefly for any spelling errors.

Your Highness,

You never did get around to giving me your book recommendations. We should rectify that quickly, I think.

Sincerely,

Lady Evalin

PS - I have some questions about local marine life, if you have a moment or two to entertain them.

Hugo’s comments about Arin being knowledgeable about marine life had stuck with me. It would be kind of nice to see Arin speak passionately about something other than his woes or his own moral dilemmas. Seeing him so enthralled by my notes in the library had been fun, for sure, but that had been more of my passion than his. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a topic that got him talking like my work got me talking.

Satisfied with my letter, I smiled at Christina, beckoning her closer with a hand gesture. As she approached, I folded the letter in half, smiling at her again before handing the letter to her. “Could you please take this to the prince?”

Christina raised an eyebrow back at me, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “The prince? Why, of course, Evalin! It would be my pleasure.”

I laughed a little, drumming my fingers along the top of my computer and saying a quick, “Thank you! I knew I could count on you,” as she departed.

Julia had just finished with my hair, and I had barely even gotten my computer booted up when Christina scurried back in, stopping beside me and placing a small, folded square of paper on my keyboard. Her grin was infectious, and I found myself chuckling as I unfolded the letter.

Evalin,

What kind of book are you looking for?

P.S. I’m not an expert on marine life but if you’d like to ask me I’ll do my best to answer.

-Arin

I had to snort a little at his formatting. What fool put the post-script before signing his name? Still, it was nice of him to offer to answer. Pulling out another sheet of paper from my desk drawer, I quickly scrawled a reply, before folding it and handing it to Christina to repeat the process again.

Arin,

I believe you said you could recommend some books on history?

The marine life part came up in a recent conversation where I asked somebody about whether or not there are razor clams on the beaches here, and I was advised to ask you.

Thank you in advance,

Evalin

Mentioning Hugo by name felt wrong, somehow, as if admitting I had spoken with Arin’s cousin would somehow put Arin on edge. I knew it was ridiculous to think that, but I still couldn’t help but feel like I should be careful about dropping names.

Christina returned with Arin’s reply in a matter of minutes. It appeared I wasn’t going to get much editing done on my proposal, at this rate.

Evalin,

“2024: Wallis’ War” might be an interesting place to start. It gives you a peek into what life was before Illéa.

As for razor clams, no. The furthest south you can find them is about 20 miles north of the Angeles and Sonage border.

-Arin

I quickly wrote the name of the book down on a post-it note, and then pulled out another paper to write a reply.

Arin,

I’m assuming I’d be able to find this book in the library? It sounds quite interesting! Might I send some light reading your way while I’m there - only if you’re interested, of course!

Ah, sad about the clams!

Thank you for your reply,

Evalin

I truly wasn’t sure where I had even planned on going with the line of questioning about the razor clams. Was I going to drag him out to the beach with me, to watch me laugh as they squirted up water? How ridiculous! It was probably for the better that they weren’t native to this area.

Evalin,

Yes.

-Arin

I assumed that his reply was to both of my questions. It looked like I was going to the library, then. With a small sigh, I closed my laptop, rubbing my hands on dress once before picking the post-it note with the book title off my desk. Life before Illéa. It was such a strange concept to me. Obviously, I knew Illéa hadn’t been a country since the dawn of time, but 2024 didn’t sound like it was that long ago, if I was being honest. It was only six years before my father was born. Had he been alive before the creation of Illéa? I frowned, wrinkling my nose as I realized that I’d never thought about that before.

It didn’t take me long to find the book once I got to the library. Despite the gargantuan size of the palace library, it was still organized using the same system as every other library I had been to during my lifetime. The book itself seemed decent in size - not huge, but thick enough to keep me busy for a couple of days, for sure. Once the book was safely tucked under my arm, I made my way over to where I expected the scientific journals to be. Arin had seemed somewhat interested in my notes, the last time we had spoken. Maybe he’d enjoy some of my the work I had helped publish under Proctor.

I knelt down, immediately finding the first two articles I had contributed to. Those were the two I had expected to find. Both of them - one with a red cover, and the other with a blue cover - contained the results of experiments that Proctor had come up with. I had merely helped her with the analysis and by proofreading her findings, once she had written them up. I was almost surprised to find the third, though. It’s black cover caught my eye just as I was about to turn around and stand again. That journal contained the results of an experiment that I had come up with, that I had practically begged Proctor to let me run in her lab, under her guidance, of course. It hadn’t been a success by any big, discernable margins, but having her say yes to my proposed experiment had still been one of my proudest moments to date. I quickly snagged that journal off the shelf too, stacking the three journals on top of the book Arin had recommended me.

I debated just heading back to my room, and having Christina just run the journals down to Arin’s office along with another note. It wasn’t like they were particularly heavy - they were rather flimsy, as a matter of fact. Yet, I still felt a pang of guilt about making her run what would likely turn into yet another chain of messages between Arin and I. It was probably just easier for me to bring him the journals myself.

I stopped outside the door of his office, taking a deep breath. He had seemed so adamant about not wanting me in his office the night we had drank bourbon together in the hallway. Maybe this was a bad idea. It was too late to turn back now, though. I knocked three times, staring at the door as I waited to see if it would open.

“Come in!”

It seemed he wasn’t going to come get the door, then. With a small frown, I juggled the books in my hands, shifting them so they were held up by my left hip and arm, opening the door with my right hand. Arin was sitting at his desk, his head down, pen in hand.

Oh, crap. I just hoped whatever he was working on wasn’t classified, or super important.

I kept my voice soft as I spoke, taking care to close the door as quietly as possible. “Hi,” I began, tossing a timid smile in his direction, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I came by to drop off the reading I mentioned to you earlier. There’s three different articles in these journals that I contributed to, and since you seemed interested in my notes and textbook the last time I saw you, I thought you might be interested in these, too.”

At the sound of my voice, he looked up, his eyes going wide for the briefest moment as he shot to his feet so quickly I thought he might knock over his chair. “Evalin,” was all he said, brushing his hands on his pants.

I felt my own eyes go wide as I laughed a little at the speed with which he had risen to his feet. It was rather entertaining how startled he always seemed to be by my presence. First in the library, now this. A small part of me hoped it would become a consistent pattern.

“I’ll be sure to be clearer about when I’m coming by next time, I suppose.” Taking a moment to shuffle the books I was holding, I tucked the book he had recommended me under my arm again, and then held the three academic journals out towards him.

He seemed a bit fidgety as he made his way around his desk, coming to a stop in front of me and taking the journals from my hand. What had he been working on before this? What had I interrupted? I was more curious now, seeing his reaction, than I had been before.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you in the middle of something too important!” I was being genuine, in the sense that I had had no intention of disrupting work that required his utmost attention, but I also kind of hoped that by saying something, I might be able to get him to explain his nervousness, a bit. I had to wonder why he was acting so on edge as it was. He had been the one to tell me to come in, after all. Regardless, it was still fun to see him caught off guard yet again. “I could just go, if you’d like! I just wanted to drop these off for you!”

He looked down at the books that were now in his hands. “Um, thank you.”

“No problem!” I laughed a little again, more nervous this time, but then shook my head. He hadn’t asked or told me to leave, after all. I looked over his shoulder towards his desk, narrowing my eyes at the papers that sat atop it, as if I would somehow be able to make out what was written on them from this distance. “What were you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh,” he began, glancing over his shoulder at his desk before turning to face me again. “Nothing interesting.”

Fine, then. I supposed he was entitled to his secrets.

“Ah okay, just curious! Wanted to make sure I hadn’t interrupted anything important!” I’d already said that, hadn’t I? Shoot! I must have looked like a total fool, desperate for attention.

“Nothing that can’t be done later,” he reassured me, nodding at the journals I had given him. “Besides, this is much more interesting, I’m sure.”

“Ah, it may be!” I offered him a sheepish smile, hoping I hadn’t completely misread his interest in my notes in the library that day. Was he actually genuinely interested in my work, in what I was studying, or had he just been looking for an excuse to kiss me? Perhaps I was a bigger fool than I had thought. Still, the hole I had dug myself was too deep for me to climb out of now. “I only assisted in the articles my professor published in the first two, but I actually came up with the experiment in the third one - the journal with the black cover. I practically had to beg her to let me run it! I bought her coffee, did her busywork, ran her scantrons - anything to get her to say yes!” A small laugh escaped my mouth as I reminisced about those few weeks. Proctor had to have known what I was doing. I was terrible at deceit. I wore my true intentions all over my face every time I interacted with someone, I was afraid. She had still given me the go-ahead in the end, though, so I supposed that all’s well that ends well, and all that.

“That’s dedication,” Arin acknowledged, raising his eyebrows. He then turned away for a moment, setting the journals on his desk in a neat pile, aligning them just-so, similar to how he had carefully placed his book on the library table all those days ago. I was so fascinated by his near obsessive precision that I almost didn’t hear him add, “I’m not sure I’d have the same level of persistence.”

The corners of my lips tugged further upwards at the compliment. He was really feeding my ego today, it seemed. “I was really passionate about that experiment. I thought it’d be the greatest thing since sliced bread, I swear.” I chuckled a little at my own joke. I had come damn close to letting that experiment consume me, if I was being honest, practically living in Proctor’s lab for a couple of months. I would likely never do that again, I realized, my smile falling as I let the thought sink in, even as I continued rambling. “We didn’t think it all the way through, though - like how hard it would be to apply what we did in the lab in an actual human body - so there’s still a lot of future research to be done.” Future research that I likely won’t be allowed to assist in, despite coming up with the original idea. I’d brought that upon myself though, ultimately.

“What’s it on?” He asked, leaning back against his desk.

“Cancer research,” I answered without thinking, my eyes darting between him and the journal for a moment. Was it worth attempting to explain it to him? Looking back at him again, I decided to go for it. “The theory behind it was that maybe if we removed the gene in cancer cells that codes for their rapid reproduction, and inserted the gene that codes for apoptosis - spontaneous cell death - maybe we could stop or slow the spread of the cancer.”

He blinked. That alone told me that there was no way he had completely understood what I had said, but he nodded along regardless. “You think it could work?”

“In theory, yes. In actuality, probably not,” I admitted, shaking my head. “It would be extremely difficult to target individual cells within a person’s body. One solution I proposed to my professor was that maybe we could introduce some virus cells that would only target the cancer cells - like HIV targets immune cells only, kind of - and see if that would kill off the cancer cells. I’d bet actual money that she’s working to put her name to that idea right now.” Even though, once again, I was the one who came up with it. I laughed a little wryly, wondering how I had put up with Proctor’s behavior for as long as I had as I gazed at the journals.

Arin simply nodded. “Well, that’s a shame, then. It could so a lot of people good.”

“Yeah,” I replied, looking back at him then, “that was my hope.” With a shake of my head, decided to change the subject, flashing him a closed-lipped half smile. “But back to your previous point, about persistence - you mean to tell me that there has never been anything you felt like you would do whatever it took to achieve?” The concept of someone not feeling that passionate about anything seemed impossible.

“Anything I want to do will always be on the back burner,” he replied with a shrug. Right, I hadn’t considered that. Maybe that’s why he was so insistent on finding a wife, after all - he needed someone to relieve him of some of his workload, so he could pursue something he actually enjoyed, for once. That would likely be good for him, if I was being honest. He continued, oblivious to the thoughts churning in my mind. “At least for now. So, I find it's not efficient to focus on it too much.”

I offered him a sympathetic smile, close to offering him my help so he might be able to explore his own interests. Something held me back, though. That might be too much too fast. He was a hard nut to crack, and I didn’t feel like ruining what little progress I had made in getting to know him. “That makes sense. I tend to get the same way with work.” I gestured towards the journals I had given him, a single laugh escaping my lips before I added, “I think I saw my professor more than I saw my parents when we were running those experiments. Though in my case, I still definitely wanted to do them.”

“Well, you should try being employed by your parents. It’s interesting, to say the least.”

Ah, right, that. I hadn’t considered that, and yet, now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t help but wonder if we had more in common than we thought. I angled my head slightly away from him before admitting, “In a sense, I am. My professor and my father are co-heads of the biology department at my university, and both of them have to sign off on any students working in the labs, and place them in a position that corresponds to their interests. I just got lucky that my father and I aren’t interested in the same subfield.” I shook my head, looking down for a moment. Okay, maybe I had been wrong. Maybe we weren’t as similar as I thought. I met his gaze again, adding, “I can’t imagine how it must be for you, though.”

He shrugged. “I can’t imagine how it would be otherwise.”

I frowned, narrowing my eyes at him with curiosity as I inclined my head a bit to the right. “I take it you’re not someone that deals in hypotheticals, then.”

“Hypothetically, if anything was different then I wouldn't be me.”

A simple enough answer, and one that I could get behind, I realized as I shook my head. “No, that’s fair. I feel the same way.” I should say something more, to show him that I understand. The only example that was coming to mind, however, was the conversation I had had with Proctor the day before I had left for Angeles. Was it worth the risk to mention it? I bit my lip, attempting to come up with a way to word it that wouldn’t sound incriminating. I may not like Proctor at this point in time, but I didn’t want her ideas on the caste system to get us both in trouble, somehow. I would not let that woman take me down with her. “My professor asked me once what I would want to do with my life if I could choose absolutely any path, regardless of how realistic it was, and I swear it was like my mind just shut down. I just can’t really imagine being anything other than myself, you know?” I shook my head again. He must have thought that I was insane.

“I’m sure I could imagine it if I really tried,” he admitted, “but there’s no point in wasting time on impossible things.”

“Agreed,” I said simply, nodding once before biting the inside of my cheek. “But in a sense, everything is theoretically impossible, until it’s done. I mean, that’s how most technological advances are made, but that’s different, I suppose.” I shrugged, glancing back up at Arin. I was rambling again. I needed to figure out how to stop myself from doing that. It was getting out of hand. Exhaling through my nose, I decided to continue regardless. “It’s a shame that the world exists in nuanced shades of grey instead of clear-cut black and white. It’d make some things so much easier.”

“Grey is a perfectly wonderful color,” he replied with a soft smile.

I mirrored his expression, turning his words over and over again in my mind. “I suppose I’ll have to search for more pleasing shades of grey, then.”

For whatever reason, Hugo’s advice popped back into my mind at that moment, maybe because Hugo seemed like the kind of person who could see the hidden beauty in anything. I could hear his voice clearly, urging me that it couldn’t hurt to at least ask Arin if he would take me to the ballet. Was it worth the risk - to get my hopes up, only to have him potentially shoot them back down? Or maybe Hugo knew something about Arin that I didn’t. He was Arin’s cousin, after all.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

I looked back up at Arin, my head still inclined slightly to the right. “There was something else I wanted to ask you as well.”

He blinked once, a look of surprise flashing across his face. “What?”

Here goes nothing.

“Okay, well, I’m kind of spitballing here, but,” I stopped mid-sentence to take a deep breath, attempting to pull myself together, “theoretically, if I asked you to take me to the Angeles ballet - if you had the time, of course - would you say yes?”

I really was terrible at hiding my intentions, I realized yet again, as I smiled up at him with a glimmer of hope that he might say yes. My nerves got the best of me as I watched him tense up, and then let out a sigh.

Oh, no. It had not been worth it. Why had I thought it was a good idea to take Hugo’s advice? I had thought it was ridiculous the first time I had heard it! I should’ve trusted my instincts.

“Evalin,” Arin began. I felt my heart drop in my chest. “That’s not really my sort of thing.”

I knew my face had fallen, and I scrambled to cover it up before he noticed, in a vain attempt to save any shred of my pride I had left. What had I been thinking? I nodded once, my mind reaching for words that felt completely foreign at the moment. “Understood. Just thought I’d throw it out there, but, uh, forget it, I guess!”

“Sorry,” was all he said in reply, dropping my gaze.

Oh, God, what had I done? The little progress we had made towards getting closer was all falling to shreds right in front of me. I was such a fool.

I shook my head, offering him the best impression of a reassuring smile I could muster up at the moment. “No, no need to apologize! It was a silly idea to begin with,” I lied, shaking my head and rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. I never should have gotten my hopes up. Arin wasn’t someone I could count on to not let me down. I should’ve known as much by now.

“Maybe you could see if Safiya would want to go with you,” he offered, glancing back at me. “That’s up her alley.”

I was pretty sure Safiya was away for the week on some trip or another, if I remembered correctly, and the thought of asking her was borderline mortifying, considering we weren’t very close, but I offered Arin a small smile regardless. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Pointing over my shoulder at the door with my thumb, I added, “Anyways, I should probably get going. I’ve still got some work to finish.”

Arin nodded, pushing himself off his desk, to his feet. “Oh, yeah, of course. I shouldn’t keep you.”

We had really reversed our roles over the course of this conversation, it appeared.

“Right.” I slowly began to back towards the door, sliding the book he had recommended me out from under my arm and into my hands, holding it in front of me as I took another step. “Sorry again for interrupting. I’ll see you around, then.”

“It’s fine, really,” he reiterated, quickly walking towards the door himself. I stopped dead in my tracks, watching him as he made his way closer to me, brushing past me as he closed in on the door and opened it. “Don’t worry about it.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, offering him one last smile and a nod as I walked towards the door. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something else, but then clamped it shut. So this was it, then. What a rocky conversation this had been. I just smiled at him one last time before quickly making my way down the hallway, not waiting to hear the door close behind me. I just needed to get back to my room. I just needed to lose myself in this proposal that was due soon. That was the best use of my time. The least I could do was make sure I sounded more intelligent on paper than I did in person.

The proposal couldn’t be any worse than that conversation had been, at the very least. I had that much going for me. Now I just had to hope my idea for the policy wasn’t as silly or fantastical as the ideas I had had during that conversation.

#selectionoc #((to quote swendie/my own typo...NUGO))

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