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princess-yuna · 4 months

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My Dearest: Part 1

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,838

Summary: You've been apart from Colin for months due to his tour after his brother's marriage to Viscountess Kate Bridgerton. One letter stood out to you the most, putting you in for a loop until you see him again.

Content: No use of y/n, reader's last name is Bennett for fic purposes but feel free to imagine another surname that's suitable for you, pining, friends turned lovers and a lot of fluff. Reader has a younger sister and an older brother.

My Dearest, If only you had accompanied me on my travels. I know that you would love Spain. It is rich in culture that we read in your father's journals. Everything that he had written is nothing short of the truth, and you must see it for yourself one day. Maybe next time you will join me on my travels because everything I have seen has opened my eyes more than a journal ever could. I am counting the days when I can see you again so I can tell you more. Until then, our written words will suffice. Sincerely Yours, Colin Bridgerton

It had been two months since you received the letter, and you couldn't put words to paper in response. There had been constant correspondence between you and Colin since he had left on his travels, but none of those letters were prefaced with "my dearest". The words made you believe he made a mistake because your name wasn't written on the letter like it always had been. Yet the envelope had your name in his neat handwriting, so there couldn't have been in an error.

Why would he address you as so in his letter?

The relationship you had with Colin was mere of like a sibling type relationship. You've known the Bridgerton family since you were a child considering their estate was one over from yours in London. Your parents have been long time friends, so it was natural that their children were friends as well.

You made your debut with the eldest daughter Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton. Daphne was your best friend, and ever since she married the Duke of Hastings, she had been preoccupied with marriage and children. You were always happy for her, but saddened when she left the Bridgerton estate. While she was the diamond, you were also busy finding suitors of your own that season.

There were suitors that called on you that had a lot to offer, and Lord Brixton was the most promising out of them all. Unfortunately, the proposal never came. You never understood why, but you were not devastated unlike your mother was. Lady Whistledown, of course, wrote about your failure of finding a husband, but you never thought of it as a negative thing. Perhaps Eloise had an influence on you.

However, now, you read over the handwritten words of Colin Bridgerton before you drifted to sleep ever since you received it. A longing in your heart brewed that you were of unaware of before for the man you used to think of as a brother. He had almost begged you to come because you stated that finding a husband was something that you didn't long for, but you would have had to decline. It wouldn't have been appropriate to go on a worldly adventure with a man you weren't married , or related, to. That would've certainly disgraced your family if word got around.

Now with the start of a new season, it was your sister's turn to debut. You couldn't be distracted by one handwritten note as you focused preparing your sister to be presented to the queen. She looked absolutely stunning as she stood in the room with Francesca Bridgerton, and it would be lucky if either of them were crowned diamond of the season.

Your mother had shooed you to go stand with your brother as every debutant was presented one by one. Eloise had waved you over as she spotted you walk in, and you immediately linked arms with her as she whispered something in your ear that made you both giggle.

A presence made your gaze lift, and then you felt your cheeks go warm. Colin Bridgerton, your dearest friend, made his way to stand by you two. Eloise had said something witty to him and he responded with a witty comment of her own before she looked at you.

"Colin just arrived this morning," she mentioned before her gaze went back to the room.

Your gaze met with Colin's, no words exchanged as you looked at each other. It was like no one else was in the room as your gaze focused on him as you took in his appearance. Traveling had done him well. Before you could say something, his sister's name was called and your gaze adverted to watch her walk in. A breath that you didn't realize you held in was slowly released.

Once your sister was presented, you turned to Eloise and excused yourself before you glanced to Colin and gave him a faint smile. Before he could say anything, you left to meet with your sister and mother to go with them to the garden while your brother stood back to catch up with Colin.

You didn't realize that Colin's gaze was watching you as you walked away without a word to him.

You also didn't know that he desperately wanted to reach out and stop you from walking away.

Your brother questioned you when you returned home after the garden party since you made yourself scarce and stood by your sister the whole time. Colin had been eager to speak to you, but you darted away at any time he came close. You watched as he went to different groups of women to hide the fact that he had been chasing you. Your brother had noticed from afar as he stood accompanied his wife around the garden but he had said nothing then. The excuse you had was that you were tending to your sister because you wanted her season to go well. He knew better than to push the topic, so he left you alone.

You caught yourself reading the letter again that night.

Lady Danbury's ball had been highly anticipated, especially that Queen Charlotte did not name her diamond yet. All of the debutants had to make another good impression and be in the queen's favor. Your sister remained hopeful, but her only wish was to find love in the room filled with suitors. You smiled as the bachelors approached and whisked her away to dance, which made you stand on the sidelines until you made eye contact with no other than Colin Bridgerton.

There was a panic that went through you as he made his way towards you, and you felt the need to get some fresh air. You escaped out the doors as quickly as you could until you heard your name being called out. Even when you thought you were fast, his steps were faster. You were halted when he had reached out to gently grasp your wrist, forcing you to come to a stop.

Your heart raced and you shut your eyes for a brief moment before you found the courage to turn to face him.

"I've been trying to talk to you but you keep evading me," he stated, slowly releasing the hold he had on your wrist. "Are you avoiding me?"

Yes.

"No, of course not, Colin. I've been distracted by my sister's debut is all," you responded as you looked him in the eyes. It wasn't exactly a lie. "I'm sure you understand with two sisters being in society," you added shortly.

"Oh, yes, of course," he agreed and nodded his head. Though he didn't bare the responsibility when it was Anthony who did. All he knew was to stay out of the way, but he understood why you were so distracted. "I have missed you dearly," he then said.

That word was close to what he had called you in that letter. My dearest. They echoed in your mind as you looked at him, taking him in again to note his appearance in detail. "I have missed you as well," you spoke honestly after some pause. A show of relief crossed his features when you said it in return.

"Why did our letters stop?" He suddenly asked, almost rushed like he couldn't stop his mouth from speaking once he thought of the question. He grimaced because he saw the look on your face. Wide eyed and shocked. "I apologize for being forward, but I need to know," he spoke and cleared his throat as he teetered on his feet uncomfortably. "Was I too bold in that last letter I wrote you? That's the only thing I can think of that made you stop writing," he rambled.

It had been intentional. The questions that you had in the past two months were answered. Colin Bridgerton meant to call you his dearest. That alone made your heart race more as you stared into his eyes. The blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean. Beautiful but a storm could brew in them at any time.

You could see something in his eyes that you have never seen before. The uncertainty. The eagerness to know what made you stop corresponding with him on his travels. There was that boy you saw who was scared to lose whatever it was between you because of how he noted his letter.

"Well, it certainly caught me off guard," you admitted.

A soft chuckle left his lips, his gaze adverted from yours for a moment. "I do not regret what I wrote," he stated, his gaze return to yours. There was a softness in his eyes that made you drawn to him. You didn't realize that he had stepped closer to you, but he was close enough to where people would whisper if they saw you in this position. "I meant it when I said I was counting down the days until we saw each other again," he spoke in a whisper that only you could hear, "There is more I do want to tell you."

You were then at a loss for words as you watched him lean closer, but before you could say anything he immediately stepped back when someone called your name. The trance you were in was broken as your mother approached with your sister.

"Ah, there you are! Your sister wants to retire for the evening," your mother stated and then she smiled at Colin, "Oh, it's very nice to see you, Mister Bridgerton. Looking as dashing as ever."

"Thank you, Lady Bennett, it's nice to see you as well. I suppose I should see what my siblings are up to," he said to your mother, his charm shone through. He gave a nod to your sister and then looked at you again. "Good night then," he said, nodding his head to you.

"Good night," you said and returned the gesture.

His smile was warm before he headed back to go find his family. You watched him go then looked to your mother and sister, joining them to wait for the carriage to retrieve you.

You were thankful that your sister and mother couldn't hear your heartbeat, and you were more thankful that they didn't notice if you were blushing but you felt the warmness of your cheeks.

Colin Bridgerton now consumed your every thought as your sister gushed about the fun she just had.

A/N: There you have it! I took it in my own hands to write a Colin fic and I'm pretty proud of it. Everything was just kinda thrown together, but I love where my mind took it. This may be a 4 part series depending on where my mind takes me. I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it. <3

Please follow @yunawrites and turn on notifications for that blog if you're interested to get notified on when I post. :)

#bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader

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city-of-ladies · 2 months

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"According to Roman sources, emperors such as Nero and Domitian were fond of throwing lavish celebrations featuring female gladiators as novelty acts. The Roman historian Cassius Dio wrote of a days-long festival Nero held in honor of his mother in 59 where upper-class men and women “drove horses, killed wild beasts, and fought gladiators, some willingly and some sore against their will.” Roman historian and politician Tacitus referred to Nero’s female gladiators as feminarum, a term reserved for upper-class women, writing that “many ladies of distinction, however, and senators, disgraced themselves by appearing in the amphitheater.”

In 66, Nero sponsored more gladiatorial games featuring Ethiopian women, wrote Dio. And in 88, Emperor Domitian held games that again featured female gladiators, wrote biographer and historian Seutonius.

Sources also wrote of venatrices, female beast hunters, appearing in the Colosseum’s 100 days of opening games in 80. Venatrices took down stags, boars, and even lions with spears and bows, says Potter. Whereas female gladiators likely fought other women to first blood in single combat, explains Potter. Contrary to popular belief, fighting to the death was rare in gladiatorial games: Sponsors considered gladiators expensive, long-term investments.

Even though many Romans disapproved of female gladiators, people went wild for them in the arena. “We do know that some of the [female gladiator] fights took place in mid-afternoon, and that’s not the time for the novelty acts or the comedies or the executions,” says Philip Matyzask, an author, historian, and professor at the University of Cambridge. “That’s the time for the premier gladiator fights. So they were treated as serious professional bouts.”

The very existence of female gladiators complicates the understanding of Roman gender roles. Many believe Roman women were docile, modest, meek, and subservient to the men in their lives. But “Roman women wielded much more influence in society than many people out in the public think,” says Coleman. Roman women could be independent benefactors (funding the construction of buildings, temples, and social programs), own property, and divorce their husbands.

“I think we develop a better understanding of our own culture by close study of another,” says Potter, and studying female gladiators illuminates the “latent sexism in the way we view women,” both today and in antiquity.

Rome’s female gladiators are just one offshoot of women’s long, often-forgotten history as warriors. “Women have fought in nearly all conflicts and wars throughout history, from the war of Troy until today,” says Manas. Rome’s female gladiators were the women warriors of their time—redefining societal expectations of what women were and are capable of."

#history #women in history #women's history #ancient rome #roman history #ancient world #ancient history #female gladiators #gladiatrix #warrior women #1st century #3rd century #roman empire #historical figures

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thebelugawhalefriend · 9 months

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Many Loving Kisses - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART TWO

CW: Yandere themes, Fem reader, Homophobia, Polyamory, FxF and MxF, Slight mentions of religion

Note: This is based on a dream I had a while back that actually opened up the idea of polyamory being healthy to me. While the dream involved an emperor from Japan and his harem, I'm very worried about writing for a culture I'm not completely learned up on. So! I've written it to fit a Medieval setting ^^

"The King has requested your daughter's hand in marriage." A messenger read from his scroll upon a white stallion, your parents looking on in shock. "His Majesty? But... Why our daughter?" Your mother starts, but her partner puts her hand on your mother's shoulder. "Do you dare ask why our gracious King would bestow upon you a dowry for your daughter? After he pardoned the unholy sanctity of your union?" It's then your other mother, "Auntie", steps in with venom in her tone. "Now you listen here, you brute... My wife didn't dare insult the king! She simply asked why he would want to take our only child away from us. Disgracing our union is unnecessary!"

To this, the messenger seethes. Withdrawing from his horse, the towering brute of a man steps closer to your mothers. "He did request that anyone unwilling to hand over the bride to be shall be taken to be executed. Would you prefer I end your lives? I'll be more than happy to-"

"Stop!" You immediately waved your arms up, trying to get in the middle of the dispute, "I'll go- please! Just don't hurt my mom and auntie...!" It was now their turn to look upon you with shock. "Baby..." Your mother lifts her hands to hold your face. "You don't have to do this. We'll do anything to keep you safe-" "Mama, it's not worth sacrificing your lives over something like a marriage. I love you both too much to see someone take your lives..."

Sundown's pink hues darken the skies as you wave your final goodbyes to your moms. To ensure you wouldn't change your mind, some of the men who had tagged along with the messenger tied you tight and carried you upon horseback. While your parents were paid a great sum for your hand, you couldn't help but worry about what the king's wife would think. How would this work? Would she be okay with the king having you as a second wife? Of course, his first wife will still be Queen... But what will you be?

Nightfall approaches as soon as the men who carried you in tow arrive at the gates. The king, in all his glory, looks upon the arriving carrivan with great disdain. The messenger leads on with pride in his chest and eyes. "My King, we've brought your bride to be as you requested!" "And you tied her like an animal to a slaughter?!" The king's sharp tone immediately deflated the messenger's ego. "I- uhm- It wasn't I who requested she be bound like that! Men, what have you done to our lady? At least treat the maiden with class!" The crew hastily undoes your ties as the messenger puffs out his chest yet again. Though, the king seems unimpressed.

"I've had quite enough trouble with the likes of you, Stephen. You treat your job as if I bestowed upon you a knight's status... One more misuse of your power and I'll have you imprisoned for the rest of your days." His golden eyes now fall upon you, gaze softening upon seeing your figure. "As for her, let her come and follow me. She's to be acquainted with my wife before any plans are set in motion."

Now, it's hard to not fall for a king so handsome. Stunning muscular features, a chiseled face as if a sculptor carved him from marble, and long curls of red hair pulled onto a loose ponytail. Freckles mark his face and skin like stars and constellations, with multitudes of scars connecting them. You start to wonder if God personally painted him to look like a galaxy... "I do apologize for how my men have treated you. It's difficult to find men as honorable as my own knights, dearest (Y/N)."

"You... Know my name, Your Highness...?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've been all my wife has been talking about for the past few weeks! It took me the longest time to come around to the idea but... One look of who she spoke of and I couldn't agree faster."

"King Fl-"

"Please, you may call me Rose." His smile is so warm, it brought your face to a rosy red. The tenderness of his words... That spark in his eye... It's hard to believe that this would be yours to even have, not to mention have his wife willing to share!

Once you both happen upon an ornate willow door, Rose gives it a gentle knock. "Darling?" A soft voice calls from inside the room. "Is that you?" "Yes, my dearest wife! I have brought someone you'd most adore to meet..." "Oh! But Rose, I'm just about indecent! Visitors can't gaze upon me right now..." The red haired man rolls his eyes with a bright smile, "Oh, alright, I suppose (Y/N) can wait a few moments longer."

With that, the door creeps open. "Please, let her come in!" You swallow a large lump in your throat, trotting in carefully. The inside of the room is spacious and rather decorated- even for a queen. Paintings of fables and animals decorate the walls, each framed with delicately carved wood. Walls themselves were murals of flowers and leaves, furniture threatening to overflow with delicate knick knacks and jewelry. What catches your eyes is the large pink bed with sheer canopies of white hanging over. On the sheets sit a tall and curvy woman. Eyes a striking purple and hair as black as a raven's plumage. What stands out most about her are her larger than life scars along her collarbone. While Rose's own were small, hers looked like she had fought a wild beast... The only thing that covers her is a purple nightgown, only going so far as to cover most of her thighs.

"You must be (Y/N)." She stands from the bed, brushing off her legs and looking at you with a bright smile. The mere sight of her vulnerability brings a deep blush back to your cheeks. "M-My Lady... I'm honored to... Uhm... Meet you!" You try to curtsey, but the queen merely laughs at your attempt and approaches your feeble form. "Please, there is no need for formality, little one! From now on, you can call me Azalea. But, any amount of nicknames will do." With that, she reaches her hands to your face and cups them along your jawline. "Look at you... You're so beautiful... So joyous and kind... I knew from the moment I saw you, I would love to have you marry my husband and I!"

It wasn't too long ago you met the queen. Only about a month, if you had to make a guess. She had been making her rounds along town in disguise despite her husband's protests. That's when she happened upon your family's stall. Adorned with colors and beads, it immediately was obvious that you were all selling jewelry. "Greetings!" You beamed from the stall, the queen's attention caught on you. "Would you... Actually, hold on a moment." The curious monarch watched on as you picked through one of the racks of necklaces. From them, you picked a particular piece- An orange and red beaded necklace with a ruby as the showpiece. "You look like someone who could use a little more red-"

"Oh no, I can't- I'm sorry, I don't have any..." While the Queen fretted this potential trick, you put your hands onto her own. "I didn't say you had to pay for the piece. I... Actually made that one myself. I would be honored to have someone as beautiful as you wear it." She was quick to catch onto your "flirting", to which she laughed and looked into you. "If I didn't have a husband, I would snatch you right up! If only men were so flattering as you are." You gave her a little look of confusion, "I didn't mean to try and take you as my own- Oh, but I would if you wanted me to-! Just uh! Uhm..." That assumption brought a great fluster to your face. "I genuinely mean it, miss. I have a great feeling about you! I don't often get them but... Mom says when you get that feeling, you just have to... Put it into action. Does that make sense?" The tall woman laughed again, "Absolutely not, but I appreciate the gift you've given me. Perhaps fortune will be as giving as you are..."

At the time, you didn't even realize just what her status was. It wasn't until this very moment of her hold on your face that you finally could recognize her.

"You were that lady I met last month, weren't you?" Azalea beams with amusement, her familiar laugh ringing in your ears, "It took you long enough to figure that out! Ah, but don't you worry about it, just proves my disguise is effective." As she keeps you in conversation, her body urges you to join her on the bed. By that, it's merely a hand pulling you to the mattress and a gentle push urging you to sit. With you next to Azalea, Rose peeks right in with curiosity.

"How are my wonderful girls?" He steps right in, Azalea sticking her tongue out and pulling you in for a protective hug. "This one shall be my own wife! You can't have her, Rose!" Her tone is playful, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw that primal desire of possessiveness. "Oh, you wound me, darling! I paid her dowry, only for her to be snatched away?" He comes in closer, leaning into his wife with that exact same look. "I don't think so... Come here!"

The redhead pulls you and Azalea in for a tight embrace. Between his muscular chest and Azalea's soft breasts, you're sure you will suffocate under this pile of affection. Though, it isn't long until he pulls away to let you breathe. "Goodness, my apologies (Y/N)! I should be more careful with my two favorite flowers..."

Their gentleness and affection all reminds you of your moms. How they would shower you with affection and each other with love. It brings a certain ache to your heart, but... You'll see them again, right?

"King- Sorry, Rose?" "Yes, my flower?" "What will become of my moms?" Your freckled lover pauses for a moment, "Your mothers? What of them? They've been compensated for your dowry." "When will I see them again?" This time, Azalea comes in to answer. Her limbs wrap around you and pull you into her lap by the waist. "Oh, my dear, we can't have you wandering about in public! You'll be a spectacle out there! Besides, you'll already have a lady who will care for you every day..."

"But... What of my friends?"

"What of them? They'll get to watch you marry us! Besides, you'll have a man who will be your company from dawn until dusk." While Azalea holds you, Rose brings a hand to your chin and strokes it lovingly. That facade of care was quickly starting to feel like a trap you've fallen into.

"That's... Lovely and all! I really do appreciate that I'll be spending my days with you both. I just worry that... Well, you both have many duties as king and queen. Surely I could be allowed outside...?" Both of the lovers freeze. It's as if you admitted to murder! The tension of the room grows thick like butter, with Rose's gaze turning from soft to absolutely enraged. Yet, his tone is still calmed. Too calm.

"My darling little flower..." His grip on your face tightens, "The outside is far too dangerous for you to venture into. You're to stay here with us and be our company. Do you understand me?" Your eyes widen and you nod feverishly, Rose letting out a sigh and pulling back. Azalea turns you slightly so you could look into her honeyed look using those familiar amethyst eyes. "Don't let it scare you so easily, loveliest... We love you! We won't hurt you if we don't have to. We'll keep you safe here... No matter how hard it'll be!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #imagines #x reader #yandere crush #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

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Rick's Reality

Richard Thompson, or "Rick" as he was known to everyone in his small Midwestern town, had always been a figure of certainty. A solid, unchanging monument amidst a world that was too often in flux. His voice, amplified by the local radio, was a constant stream of opinions and advice that echoed through the homes and cars of his listeners each weekday morning.

Rick was an imposing man, in both stature and belief. Standing tall at six feet two inches, with broad shoulders and a deep, resonant voice, he was the picture of traditional, rural masculinity. His dark hair was always neatly combed, his clothes crisp and clean, and his boots spotless despite the dust and mud of the local landscape.

His radio show, "Rick's Reality," was a beacon for conservative values and traditional perspectives. It was a platform from which he would confidently espouse his views, his deep baritone voice resonating with a fervor that drew in even the most reluctant listener. Rick had a particular disdain for the LGBTQ+ community, seeing them as a challenge to his idea of 'normal.'

"There's a certain way of life, a right and a wrong," Rick would assert, his voice crackling over the airwaves. "Men are men, women are women. That's how God intended it."

Rick had been born and bred in this town, his life as firmly rooted as the old oak tree in the town square. A divorced father of one, his life was a well-trodden path of work, hunting, fishing, and beer with his buddies at Joe's Bar.

That Monday, Rick sat behind the microphone in his small studio, a cup of black coffee steaming beside him. He had a familiar fire in his belly, the one that fueled his daily tirades. Today, his ire was directed towards immigrants and the LGBTQ+ community.

"Folks," he began, his voice stern and unwavering, "our great nation is being undermined. We've got immigrants coming in, not respecting our culture, our way of life. And then we got these... these... folks who can't decide if they're men or women or want to marry their own kind. It's a disgrace, I tell ya."

The phone lines were lighting up, as they always did during his heated monologues. He gestured to his assistant, who patched through a caller.

"You're on 'Rick's Reality', what's your reality today?" Rick asked, a smug grin on his face.

"Hello, Rick," the caller began, their voice calm, measured, and anonymous. "I've been listening to your show for a while. I've heard your views on immigrants and the LGBTQ+ community. I wonder, have you ever challenged your beliefs? Have you ever tried to see life from their perspective?"

Rick was taken aback. He was used to angry rebuttals and passionate agreements, but this? This was new. He stuttered, before finding his footing. "Well, I... I know what's right. And it's my job to stand up for what's right."

"But what if 'right' is subjective, Rick?" the caller continued. "What if the 'right' you know is not the only 'right'? Have you ever considered that?"

Rick was angry. Angry enough to hang up. But something stopped him. He knew he needed more information about this mysterious caller. So, he stayed on the line, listening intently as the caller continued.

"I'm just curious, Rick," the caller said, "what would happen if you met someone who thought differently than you do? Wouldn't that be interesting? What if they didn't think like you did?"

"I'd punch them out," Rick replied. "I don't need no faggot or immigrant around me thinking he's better than me."

"Interesting," the caller mused. "So, you wouldn't try to understand them? You wouldn't try to learn from them?"

"Nope," Rick said. "I'd punch them out." He had enough of the caller and cut the line. This was ridiculous, why did people with these deviant opinions even bother calling into his show? He had to get back to ranting about the evils of immigration and the perils of same-sex marriage.

He returned to his monologue, but his mind wandered. He couldn't shake the strange feeling he had when talking to that caller. Their words had struck a chord within him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like a small voice in the back of his mind that was so very different from himself, that was curious about what that guy had said, curious about the very idea of being different. It was only miniscule though, and Rick quickly dismissed it, continuing his show.

The rest of the callers were good, normal people calling. People agreeing with him and encouraging him. The day went by smoothly until the end of his shift. He was heading home in the bright noon sun, when he felt like he could do something different today. The route he usually took when walking home was down the main street, passing Joe's bar and into the residential area with the neatly trimmed lawns where he lived. There was, however, another route, a quicker one that went through the bad parts of the town. The parts where those Latino gardeners and pool boys lived, where there were shady clubs and even the dreaded local 'rainbow' scene. Normally, Rick wouldn't even think about entering those parts of town, but the comment from earlier was still gnawing at his mind. Perhaps he should take that way today, just to see how much better life was when you were normal. There was nothing going to happen, after all. If he met anyone who bothered him, he'd just punch them.

So, Rick turned off the main road, making his way towards the seedy part of town. As he walked past the bars and strip joints, he saw men and women going about their businesses or sitting around, taking a break and smoking a cigarette. So far, nothing out of the ordinary except the slightly darker skin color of most people here. He passed a few men playing socker in an alleyway between buildings. A man sat on a bench outside a corner store, drinking a beer and watching some kids play basketball nearby. He made eye contact with a woman wearing a tight red dress as she exited a convenience store carrying bags full of groceries. She was probably wondering why he came here - a question he asked himself.

He kept walking, trying to ignore the looks he was getting as he got closer to the gay district. Well, district was a bit much. There was a bar and a club with rainbow flags in the windows, nothing more.

The bar was closed, as it was just noon. However, the club was apparently open, which was surprising considering the time of day. Rick stopped. Maybe he should go inside. There would probably no patrons in there and he was kind of curious what that godless place looked from the inside.

He pushed open the door to the club and stepped inside. The place was empty, as he thought, apart from a bartender cleaning up. The guy was a fairly muscular and about the same age as Rick and greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Oh hi! Welcome to Club Rage!" he said. "What can I get you?"

"I don't want anything", Rick said with a reserved tone. He didn't even want to speak to that guy, but now that he was in here, that seemed to be less and less of an option.

"Ah, then you're here for the job opening!" the other man beamed. "Name's Miguel by the way."

Of course, an immigrant, Rick grimaced. "Richard." he said noncommittally.

"Good! I didn't expect someone like you to apply, but sure, let's see what you've got! Follow me!"

Why didn't Rick just say he wasn't interested in the job, whatever it was?

Miguel led him to the big dance floor of the place and pointed to an elevated cage with a pole in it. "This would be your workplace."

Rick looked at him dumbfounded. "What did you say was that job again?", he asked cautiously.

"You'll be dancing," Miguel replied. "It's not a difficult job, trust me. You won't have any trouble keeping up with the crowd. Come on, show me some moves, Richard!". He patted the cage floor with his hand.

Rick wanted to say a lot of things, shout at the guy or storm out of here, but another part of his brain saw this as an opportunity. There was no one here but Miguel to see him and he would never, ever do something like that again, so he might as well try it once.

Rick nodded slowly and hoisted himself up into the cage with some effort. Miguel was looking up to him expectantly and Rick tried some careful, stiff dance steps.

It must have looked ridiculous, but Miguel was nodding. "Yeah... you need some beat, man. Hold on."

Miguel disappeared for a moment and shortly after, a driving, thumbing rhythm filled the room, way too loud for the empty room.

When Miguel reappeared, he gave Rick thumbs up: "Okay, Rick! Try it with this!"

The rhythm actually helped a bit, and Rick found it easier to get into it. His dance moves became more sweeping and quickly, Rick was sweating from the unfamiliar workout.

Apparently, Miguel had also noticed and shouted from below: "Come on! Show me that body a bit, don't be shy!"

Rick gritted his teeth and moved his hips faster, feeling the sweat running down his face. He could hear the music pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. He felt good about himself, better than he'd done in years. While dancing, he unbuttoned his shirt and quickly disposed of it. His torso was looking different from what he was used to: It was smoothly shaven and more toned - not trained or muscular but toned and lean. His skin had a darker complexion than he was used to, and the glistening sweat gave his moves a smooth and fluid quality.

Down below, Miguel was cheering. "Yeah, come on, Rico boy! Use the pole!"

Rick, no, Rico shook his head and smiled. While he grabbed the pole with his right hand, his left hand unbuttoned his pants, in a well-practiced movement. As he twirled around the pole, he used an upward movement to strip the pants completely from his legs, revealing his very tight purple hotpants that accentuated his bulge nicely. Rico noticed that Miguel was clapping to the beat now and decided to give him a special show, turning around and shaking his ass to the rhythm right above Miguel’s face. Rico smiled. He had no doubt that he would get the job - he was just so damn good at it. Every man loved him, and he knew how to hone and groom his body to just tease them the right way. He was a living wet dream, with both an impressive ass and an ample bulge in the front of his pants that he knew just how to shake in a way that made the patrons drool. A boner factory, an ex-boyfriend of his had called him, and there was something very true about it.

Finally, Rico finished his gig and slid down the pole without even panting much, planting an impish kiss on Miguel’s mouth. He couldn't resist to cup the other man's groin with his hand meanwhile... yep, he was going to get that job.

Ricardo Torres was happy - this would be perfect for him, a chance to put his body to good use and get familiar with this new town quickly. Besides, that Miguel guy was really cute, perhaps it was time for a new boyfriend in this new town!

#male transformation #racial transformation #straight to gay #muscle transformation

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 1 year

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If we assume the animorphs didn't bring up the ellimist after the war, how do you think they explained tobias' whole deal?

I think that a) they don't, and b) there's a ton of misguided speculation as a result.

At least in the first few years after the war becomes public, I assume almost no one would know how morphing works. There's, what, ~5 surviving Animorphs and ~20 ex-controllers who weren't on the Blade ship? And that's it for human morphers on Earth. So if Marco goes "our buddy Tobias got stuck in hawk morph (totally by accident!) but then he later recovered enough to start morphing again", then there's not necessarily anyone to come out of the woodwork and announce that that makes no sense. So maybe most humans think that it's sometimes possible to start morphing again after being nothlited, if they think about it at all.

As Earth's culture continues to change — more andalite tourists, more morphing humans — then I could see people as a whole starting to spot the contradiction. Andalite authorities in particular would probably be pissed off and frustrated by Tobias, because how dare this half-human walking-disgrace-to-Elfangor's-legacy be the one to figure out a morphing trick that none of them ever did. Tobias explaining that he's met their god, that he extorted their god, and that that's why he's a nothlited morpher, probably would only piss them off more. They might even refuse to believe him.

From there, I think that the version of the truth that trickles to most ordinary humans would be something like: "That Tobias guy got stuck in morph but then started morphing again? Yeah, he said he got that from his andalite god. I guess it hasn't happened with anyone else before, so you do you man. We all respect each other's religions, and if that's what he wants to think happened, that's cool with me."

#animorphs #animorphs meta #tobias fangor #emohawk #twitter: is it cultural appropriation to cut deals with a god you don't actually worship? but what if your dad also cut deals with him?#no his dad didn't worship him either. yeah i dunno how he met. still seems appropriative to me.#concerning if true

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ash-says · 6 months

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I think your page speaks volumes about the way you’ve perceived and endured life and I’m sorry you haven’t had the time or opportunity to soak up the good things that are all around you, I hope you develop skills that allow your success to be built off of things that are good and pure and not cheap manipulation tactics and lies

Devil may care: A guide on being unbothered.

Okay, and??

Sweetheart, I really appreciate your unwanted sympathies and illusionary sensitivity directed towards me. In our culture when someone is being sweet, kind and helpful (even if fake) we make sure that we pay them back with something valuable. Here's a small guide curated for you that will help you in being self secure so you won't feel threatened by other people's success and opinions.

1) Have a life:

Nothing screams idle to me more than this. Like you have time to be offended by someone's post and comments which you might just scroll by and ignore?? On top of that going above and beyond to let that person know. Okay, Sushma. Now log off and do the pending coursework.

2) Build genuine confidence:

Ladies, fake it till you make it can only go this far. You have to work on your underlying issues and address them. If you don't you are susceptible to triggering even by a mere stranger. Confident people don't need to go above and beyond to prove other people. They embody it.

3) Self awareness:

It's tiring to explain this. Just Google it at this point. This word is thrown like a football everywhere. You know it. Do the homework.

4) Practice self compassion and boundaries:

Negative feedback is part and parcel of life. Accept it, analyse and if it applies adopt or otherwise ignore. Boundaries are important to understand the difference between constructive criticism and disrespect.

If disrespected don't be afraid to put a bitch in place. Until then shut your mouth and concentrate on your goals.

5) Opinions are subjective:

Everyone has their own life experiences and opinions are formed based on those. Your Roman Empire might be different from your friends but does it mean it's invalid? No. Develop empathy and open-mindedness. Not everyone has the same views. It's okay.

6) Develop a thick skin:

You can't survive in this world if you are triggered by the tiniest of things. You have to be comfortable in being painted both as a hero and as a villain. Don't let others opinion get to your head. Owe to yourself that I will stand in my truth thou glory or disgrace.

7) Reflect a rbf stance:

When someone tries to belittle you, try to put you down, talk shit about you. Your body language should be cold and reserved with a rbf that screams intimidation but all you are going to say is Okay, and??

8) Master Sarcasm:

I have said this before and I will say it again. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Sarcasm is the ice in it. Ladies learn sarcasm. It's the one way ticket to put people in their place in a humorous way.

9) Be classy. Be polite. BE UNTOUCHABLE.

Who do you think will be named as the crazy one? The one who is screaming and belittling someone or the one who is still being polite but discreetly showing the person where they belong. Never resort to screaming and shouting. That's dumb. Second never go out of your way to prove how you are relevant. Take it or leave it mentality.

10) Seek professional help:

Even after all of this you are not able to practice being unbothered. I think a therapist is the best solution for you.

P.S. :Ladies, this is what I mean when I say leverage the fuck out of your connections and opportunities. This is how you turn a negative into a positive.

Plus I am petty enough to not let this disrespect slide but thought it would be a good content idea for my posts, isn't it??

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

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timetravellingkitty · 8 months

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Mulan 2020 sucks lol

Written and edited by yours truly

So, Mulan 2020 happened. And I am disappointed. Seriously disappointed. It is utter garbage. I would genuinely prefer it if I watched Mulan II 5 times in a row, and that's saying something.

There is so much to talk about because this has so many issues. I don't think my brain can handle a movie as bad as this for some time. It is a disgrace to the original animated movie.

(Who cares about spoilers?)

And yes, I can and I will compare it to the original movie because it is a remake. It is totally valid to see where this fell flat and where the original succeeded. I'm not saying it has to be like the original cartoon, that is stupid. As I mentioned, it's to highlight the failures of this movie.

Besides, even if we forget the fact that it is a remake, this movie is still horrible.

INTRODUCTION

Mulan 1998 is a classic. It has great visuals, an awesome soundtrack, wonderful and compelling characters, a great message and a cool plot. It's just a great movie in general. It is an adaptation of The Ballad of Mulan, a Chinese legend. Both the legend and the animated movie are about a young girl named Mulan who disguises herself as a man to take her father's place in the army to fight back against an invasion.

As big of a success Mulan was, Chinese audiences thought some things were weird. For instance, having a dragon be a comic relief character, given that dragons are highly respected in Chinese culture. So of course, Disney decided to try another shot, claiming that they wanted to be more culturally sensitive, accurate and closer to the original ballad.

Mulan 2020 is a remake of the original animated movie, and was marketed to be more "accurate to Chinese culture and the Ballad". This claim is, of course, false, because they failed in that aspect. Say what you will about the cultural inaccuracies in Mulan 1998, but at least it was a great movie. Besides, Mulan 1998 didn't pride or market itself on being culturally accurate, the way Mulan 2020 did, so there's that.

CHANGES

I don't mind some changes. And honestly, if there's one thing I appreciate, it's that it isn't a carbon copy of the original (looking at you The Lion King 2019).

Li Shang's character is divided into two characters: Commander Tung and Mulan's love interest Honghui, apparently in light of the Me-Too movement. This is a dumb reason. Disney wasn't comfortable with a superior having a relationship with a subordinate? The hell? The romance between Shang and Mulan was only insinuated at the end, when Mulan wasn't even a part of the army anymore, so there's that. Also, Mulan gave her consent, so I don't know what they’re talking about.

Mushu isn't present in the movie. I can see why though. He contributed quite a bit to the soul of the animated version but a CGI dragon would be very distracting. Also, the director said that removed him to achieve a more realistic tone.

Grandma? No grandma. Mulan has a sister though, who only exists to mess stuff up.

The Huns are replaced with the Rourans and Shan Yu is replaced with Bori Khan.

Mushu is replaced with a phoenix, who acts as an emissary for the ancestors

There are no songs, except in the end credits, which isn't a bad thing. The instrumentals of the songs in the animated one play during some scenes (I'll talk about the music, don’t worry)

CHARACTERS

The characters in this movie are so boring. Our lead character Mulan lacks the charisma her animated counterpart had. She's utterly bland, uninteresting and poorly written. In the original, she knew she wasn't physically strong and that she couldn't solve her problems with her strength, so she used her intelligence and wit. She excelled by working hard and being strong willed and determined. This Mulan is a well rounded character.

Mulan in the live action is given Chi powers (Chi is a big part of Chinese medicine, in case you didn't know). Honestly, I wouldn't be as mad at Mulan being given superpowers, had they actually done this properly! Chi isn't like midichlorians, it's something that flows through everyone. Mulan is naturally born with dumb superpowers and has to hide them because as her dad says, " Chi is for warriors, not for daughters”. There is a problem:

It has been mentioned many times that Mulan needs to hide her superpowers otherwise she will be shunned and ostracised. Then why doesn't she get more repercussions everytime she uses her powers? The worst thing that happens is little Mulan getting looks of disgust when she uses them. On other occasions, when she is now a part of the army, she uses her powers in training and she doesn't get any backlash? What the hell?? Then why even bother in the first place?

The only way for this narrative to work is if Mulan got more repercussions for using her powers.

If I were to make the line "Chi is for warriors, not daughters," work, I would make it go something like this:

*At the end of the movie when Mulan comes home*

Dad: Didn't I tell you that Chi is for warriors, not daughters?

Mulan: "I am a daughter, but I'm a warrior too."

(Yes, I know this is similar to a scene in Avatar: The Last Airbender, but this would be better, tbh. Also, watch Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Let me compare the training montages from both movies.

In the animated one, there is an absolutely AWESOME montage of Mulan training side by side with her companions, slowly gaining their trust. She climbs the pillar with both medallions by using her wit, not by brute force. This Mulan worked hard. Besides, the fact that "I'll Make A Man Out Of You" plays over this is the only thing that makes it better (banger song, thank you Donny Osmond)

In the live-action, Mulan is supposed to lift up buckets and climb on top of a mountain. There are also other training scenes, but those aren't very important. In these scenes, she succeeds with the power of CHI. WHY? Mulan here just achieves her goal because she is oh so special. She didn't work to achieve her goal at all, because she is perfect. No struggling or development here at all.

Mulan in the animated version was more concerned about saving her father. Mulan in the 2020 version is a dumb patriot who can't even do patriotism right ("I know my place. It is my duty to fight for the kingdom and protect the Emperor") How very empowering.

In short, live-action Mulan can do no wrong. She has no flaws, no personality and no charm. Everything comes to her pretty easily, because MAGIC.

Li Shang's role in the live-action is divided between Commander Tung and Mulan's love interest Honghui, as mentioned before. Both of these characters are flat, dumb and boring. Tung exists to tell Mulan to cultivate her Chi and to train these idiots (and to offer his daughter’s hand in marriage to her, unaware that Mulan isn’t actually a guy, but eh). Honghui is there to be a stupid love interest, who gives us an “I am Spartacus” moment.

The witch is by far the most interesting character. She actually has more than one side to her, has SOME kind of depth and you can even feel sorry for her. She is supposed to serve as a foil to Mulan, given that both have similar powers. In case you've forgotten (which is something I wouldn't blame you for), she's an outcast who's now working with Bori Khan. Why is she an outcast? Because of her Chi. The witch has said many times that she could kill Bori Khan in a snap, then why doesn't she kill him? Because she needs acceptance? What the hell? She decides to pull out the whole "We're the same, you and I," stupidity to Mulan, and I can see that. It's just that the writers just didn't put much thought into it. “It’s too late for me” because you saw a woman leading an army of men? Also, why does she warn Mulan that Bori Khan is coming? Unless she's playing both sides, except her motivations aren't made clear enough for this to make sense. Finally, she dies for the dumbest reason. God, it just makes me so mad. She had so much potential, but no. They just had to mess her up.

Bori Khan? MORE LIKE BORING KHAN. Not much is there. His animated counterpart Shan Yu was scary and contributed to some of the darkest moments in the movie. This guy over here is just...nothing. That's all I have to say.

Mulan's sister is only there to mess up the meeting with the Matchmaker. What a stupid change. First off in the animated version, it's Mulan who messed up, because she isn't perfect. She fails at being stereotypically feminine AND masculine, but in the live-action, she literally pulls off a Spiderman cafeteria scene, and the blame is put on the sister. In the animated movie, this scene is groundwork for Mulan wanting to prove herself and going on a hero's journey, providing depth to her character, but in the live-action, she's perfect. What is the point? (I know this section was supposed to be about the sister, but eh). The sister doesn't provide anything else to the movie, so thanks! I hate it. Moral of the story: Girls can do anything boys can, as long as they have superpowers. If you are born special like Mulan, you can be respected, whereas if you are like the sister, you have no significance and in the end, you can just fit in and be irrelevant. Congratulations!

The live action group of guys Mulan met and befriended in the army lack the charm and comedic timing of their animated counterparts. That’s it. Seriously. I have nothing more to say about them, because they don't really have anything going on. I don't even know why they are included, because their contribution is nil, save for them blandly speaking lines from the animated version’s songs ("I don't care what she looks like, I care what she cooks like"), which is seriously cringe.

The dad is there to tell Mulan that Chi is for warriors. A shame, because I really liked the dad in the movie. He was a source of wisdom for Mulan, whose greatest honour was having her for a daughter. In the live-action, he just takes the sword that Mulan is given at the end of the movie. The mom is meh.

The emperor is also meh. At least he was wise and cool in the animated version, but here he just does bed sheet kung-fu.

Did I mention that the dynamics between the characters are unnatural, forced, awkward in a bad way and in no way indicates any chemistry between them? Oh yeah, I didn’t, until now. They don’t establish much when it comes to emotion.

Simply put, Khan (Mulan’s horse in the animated version) had more personality than all of these characters combined

PERFORMANCES

Liu Yifei as Mulan was a pretty terrible choice. She is just a block of wood, who has absolutely no range, and this isn't because of the writing. She is genuinely bad, and is regarded as one of China’s worst actors (I kid you not). She just can’t emote.

Jet Li as the emperor is meh. But hey, he doesn’t have much to do, so eh.

Jason Scott Lee as Bori Khan is fine. He doesn’t suck, but he lacks the command and authority of a character who is supposed to be intimidating, but I guess it has something to do with the writing of his character.

Donnie Yen is a martial art legend, but unfortunately, he doesn't have much range as an actor.

The best performance of this movie is that of Gong Li, who played the witch. Honestly, she is charismatic, charming and has an idea of what she is doing.

To save everyone’s time, simply put: most of the performances are bland and mediocre. Partly due to bad writing and partly due to most of the actors not being, well, good at acting.

CULTURAL AND HISTORICAL ACCURACY

So Disney went all “we like cultural and historical accuracy”, which is nice. For example, the Huns are replaced by the Rourans, a real tribe in China around the time Mulan was supposed to be alive. They also removed the hair cutting scene, because as iconic and awesome as it is, it doesn’t make sense. Chinese men wore their hair long too. You know what? I like these kinds of changes. I appreciate accuracy. If only Disney didn’t pride themselves on their accuracy when they got almost everything else wrong (They somehow got Mulan's house wrong lol). I don't know jackshit about Chinese culture so just go watch that Xiran Jay Zhao video it's very swag

THE BALLAD OF MULAN

In a surprising turn of events, this isn't accurate to the Ballad, like they had marketed it to be (I know, I’m shocked too). In a reference to the Ballad, Mulan is riding a horse and she sees two rabbits running side by side. She goes home and tells her family that she saw 2 rabbits, and she thinks that one was male and the other female, but she wasn't sure. This just misses the entire point of the Ballad.

Long story short, Mulan in the Ballad is actually a seamstress. She joined the army in her father's place. She defeats the barbarians and goes on a ten year long campaign with her friends, after which they meet the Son of Heaven (a sacred imperial title of a Chinese emperor). He offers her a high ranking position, which she refuses, because she just wants to go home. She returns home and her family welcomes her. Sometime later, her friends come to visit her, and they find out that she is actually a woman. The friends are shocked because she has been in the army for 12 years and in those 12 years, they didn't even realise that she was a woman.

Mulan then replies:

The male hare's feet hop and skip

The female hare's are muddled and fuddled

But when two hares are running side by side

How can you tell the male from the female?

Which is where the poem ends.

So, Mulan just going on, judging those rabbits like that makes absolutely no sense. The Ballad is about how no matter how different men and women look, when they live and fight amongst each other, who gives a damn about the differences? You know what would have made sense though? If Mulan got off her horse, went close to the rabbits, examined them, and then made the conclusion that one is male and the other is female. This would actually be sticking to the message of the Ballad. Also, why do they make it ambiguous as to whether she accepts the high ranking position? I assume for a sequel (yes, God save my soul). Here we can see another example of its impeccable accuracy to the Ballad.

THIS ISN'T EMOTIONAL AT ALL

Everything that made the original film good has been stripped away. Every moment that is meant to be emotional is very dull. For example, the scene where Mulan makes the decision to take her father's place in the army is supposed to be a very powerful scene. Mulan is risking it all just so her dad can be safe. She might be killed if discovered, and her family would be dishonoured.

When Mulan comes back from the Matchmaker, she has a moment of reflection while singing "Reflection". This is the beginning of her personal journey, discovering who she is. In this, after Mulan comes back from the Matchmaker, she doesn't have a moment of reflection. The army immediately shows up. Am I really supposed to believe that Mulan feels bad about this? That Mulan is really struggling?

When Mulan’s friends are singing, it suddenly shifts to the striking scene of the burnt village. This, in my opinion, is the best use of tonal whiplash. From this point on, things are getting serious, and the emotional weight of this tragedy is felt. In this, they just randomly show up at the village. There is no seriousness (stop trying to tell me this movie is adult, mature and serious, it just looks like that on the surface).

Their attempts at being emotional are poor and unconvincing, and ultimately, the end product is an emotionless, soulless, depthless entity.

THE MUSIC

The director mentioned in an interview that she didn’t add songs into the movie because it is “unrealistic to break into song when you're in war”, and I don't think I’ve heard anything more false (apart from the concept of a flat Earth). Even I, who isn't going into war anytime soon, know this is false. They instead inserted instrumentals from the original film. Except, it's very weirdly placed. The instrumental for Reflection is placed when Mulan is fighting the Rourans after she reveals herself to be a woman. Like, there isn't any context. In the end credits, they had the original song "Loyal, Brave and True" sung by Christina Aguilera, which was nice. I don't really have much to say in regards to the music. The music is overall forgettable.

THE ACTION

The action may seem weird, but this kind of martial arts is a part of the Wuxia genre, which is what they were going for. Well, they failed. The choreography is bad, the CGI is bad, EVERYTHING is bad. Honestly, if you want a good Wuxia movie, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon exists. The action is here stupid and stiff.

OTHER DUMB STUFF

Why does Mulan take her armour off before going into battle? That is just stupid. Can't you just take the bindings off? Also, WHY OPEN YOUR HAIR-

Mulan really likes kicking spears (and pointy stuff in general). Seriously. It’s weird.

The CGI is okay I guess, I don't know. The phoenix in some scenes looks pink to me. There are some pretty visuals though.

It is very obvious that there is a green screen used in the scene where Mulan and her friends find the burnt village. And it looks bad. Pretty ugly. It looks bad. The green screen looks bad.

The war strategy is just weird. I can't really say anything about it in text form because how am i supposed to describe it, help- (she literally teleported behind the bad guys in the avalanche scene-).

I like how the animated film, which had a dragon as a comic relief and other silly stuff, is more mature than this.

For what joy does Mulan get another sword from the army? Also, shame the dad is all “oh look at the values written on the sword, they are honourable” even though in the original the greatest honour was having her for a daughter.

How was Mulan even able to tell the gender of the rabbits?

Why not just try to send a warning to the Emperor that the Rourans are coming to get him?

Why does Commander Tung let Mulan lead them-

I AM SO DONE

Well, I think I have said everything I wanted to about this movie. I know I havent talked about its controversies but honestly, I am done. I am so done with this. This document took 5-6 months of my life. I am kind of proud of this, and there isn't much I have done to be proud of. I did procrastinate on this a bit, and I had stuff going on, but finally, I am done. In the future, if I remember something, I'll add it here, but I think that is unlikely. I never want to watch or even go near Mulan 2020 again. It's horrible, and there is barely anything redeemable. I hate it here. It’s been reported that a sequel is in development. If it’s true, of course I’ll watch it, how else am I supposed to validate my self hate? I am also, of course, the resident “friend who suffers for everyone else’s entertainment”. If you want a live action remake of Mulan, Mulan: Rise of a Warrior exists. Go watch it, it’s free on YouTube with subtitles. I really liked it.

If you’ve somehow made it this far, thanks for reading. I congratulate you for putting up with whatever this is. I would also like to take a moment to congratulate myself for actually committing to this. It was painful yet fun to complain about this to the best of my ability. If anyone wants to add anything to this, feel free to do so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m out. I have lost my faith in humanity, and I have other things to complain about.

#this was written 3 years ago. are you proud of me yet #i should mention. the animated mulan is one of my favourite movies ever so 😙#reva is an artist

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thesirencult · 1 year

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ICY DIARIES 💎 "MEN FOR THE STREETS ARE NOT COMFORTABLE IN MANSIONS"

She don't want your man, she wants to be you...

Important Disclaimer : I don't advise people to endorse in celebrity culture. I believe that pop culture serves as a way for us to explore archetypical characters, it acts as a mirror and a collective pool.

A few hours ago I came across the above TikTok.

Long story short, a well known TikToker posted a couple of videos talking about the fact that a woman should keep her job no matter what and never let go of herself, because her husband could leave her for a younger woman at some point, especially when she's older. At the same time, she took down all of her videos with her husband and some people noticed that her ring was missing. Allegedly her husband had contacted a s*x worker and was talking with her. That side piece came out and said that she was the wife's fan and well... Check out the video above for more details.

Now... Onto the main course 🍽️

You have to remember one thing and one thing only. YOU are the most important person in your life.

Many people like to point out that these "dark feminine" tips are narcissistic. If you get in an airplane crash you should first put your mask on before helping others, otherwise you will all die. That's how life is.

Don't let men and nasty women play you by telling you that your value gets lower with age. If your partner would leave you for a you get woman he is not a high value man.

Now that we got this out of the way...

We are going to talk about the SIDE PIECE. I'm one of those women who believe that a man is not an infant. He is the one who decides to cheat. Same goes for women who do that. You got to take responsibility and dive deep into your soul because something is wrong there.

BUT. There are some women who are a disgrace to our gender. They take pride in seducing men who are married or in partnerships with other women. This stems from their internalised hatred towards feminine energy.

The "side chick" caught in the TikTok, drama fell onto the net all by herself. She wanted to show her face and to be known as the women who broke the famous TikTok creator.

This women don't want your man. They want to be you. They are leeches who are looking for a way into your life, be it through friendship or through other vulnerable spots like your unloyal husband.

That's why the most important decision you will make in your life is who you spend it with. You could be the most successful, beautiful and bright soul in the world, but a man could strangle that light and destroy you. Also, don't hang around people who are fangirling over you, that's internalised jealousy (haven't you noticed fans of famous boybands ?) and avoid having weak people in your circle.

Never, ever abandon yourself for someone else.

#hypergamyblr #hypergamous #hypergamy #self care #siren #seduction #lawofattraction #personal growth #level up journey #leveling up #level up #self development #self improvement #high value dating #dark feminine aesthetic #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #high value mindset #high value woman

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literary-illuminati · 9 months

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50 pages into He Who Drowned the World (finally)

Our leads!

Shounen Protagonist except her indomitable fighting spirit is mostly expressed through advanced high level bullshitting

Guy whose operative revenge plot to march on the capital and burn the great khan's palace to the ground has been derailed because he's such an asshole his subordinated hit him in the head and threw him in the dungeon

Guy whose getting revenge on his dead brother's ghost by turning himself into a homophobic caricature and diving into court intrigue to disgrace and shame all of Mongolian culture.

The book contains multitudes, truly. I feel for Baoxiang's secretary. Very funny that Zhu's by far the most psychologically healthy here. Even funnier that Essen's ghost is apparently run ragged haunting both the others.

#he who drowned the world #shelley parker chan #sff #tht

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isfjmel-phleg · 3 months

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About a decade ago, I read The White Feather and found myself relating a lot to its protagonist, R. D. Sheen. Shy, lacking confidence, unable to handle confrontation, more studious than athletic, and getting lectured by everyone about how you Just Need To Stop Being Like That.

Now, after a lot of personal changes and a year and a half of therapy, I reread the book for the first time in quite a while (ever since the Nightmare Class, reading PGW is not the joy it used to be, so I haven't engaged much with his works in years). And I still found myself understanding Sheen, but now also deeply frustrated that almost no one is really helping him with a problem that is not of his own making but the product of a toxic culture that the narrative seems to accept without question.

And there's no intentional malice in what Wodehouse is depicting. It's clear that he--at least at the time when he wrote this book, in his mid-twenties--too was steeped in this culture and never thought to question it. It was the way of the world. It was what society expected of men. It was an absolutely disastrous mindset, as history shows us.

Wodehouse's school stories tend to take a light-hearted view of the British public school experience, and in general that is their strength. But The White Feather differs from the others in that it depicts a darker side of such schools--and perhaps the most messed-up thing about it is that the narrative doesn't fully realize how mesed up it truly is.

We’re introduced to our protagonist—no, we aren’t. Not right away. Sheen isn’t even mentioned in the entire first chapter, which is a conversation between three characters who barely appear at all for the rest of the story, discussing the abysmal state of Wrykyn’s football (rugby) team. This ties this story with the first novel set at Wrykyn, The Gold Bat, whose protagonists are among the people talking here, but for a reader coming to this book with no knowledge of earlier stories, it’s a bit jarring, and one might be tempted to skip this chapter altogether. But its presence indicates the narrative’s priorities. We are not primarily here to concentrate on an individual alone; we must constantly bear in mind that the honor of the school is in potential crisis as long as its athletic record this year is less than stellar. It establishes the nature of the setting. School before all else. Reputation and superiority before all else. Athletics before all else. These are the kind of boys (and men, a teacher appears too) that populate this all-male environment, and this is what they value.

Then, and only then, can we meet Sheen and see how badly he fails to live up to the school culture’s ideal. This utter disgrace of an excuse for a human being has committed numerous crimes, including preferring to stay indoors, being a loner with almost no friends, shunning athletics (except fives, a form of handball, which apparently isn’t athletic enough), concentrating on studies as he prepares for an examination to earn a scholarship, and being afraid of giving offense to the point that he cannot handle confrontation at all. The narrative is sympathetic enough to Sheen, in a pitying sort of way, but it’s made clear that he has problems that need to be addressed. And that’s true enough. Sheen needs self-confidence. He needs to learn how to better manage his social anxiety and handle conflict so that others won’t walk all over him as they tend to.

An important thing that we don’t learn is exactly why Sheen is this way. We know next to nothing about his home life. We don’t even know his given name, the name that would only be used by family and perhaps the closest friends. We find out that he has a dog at home, and there’s a reference that suggests that he might have a sister, but we know nothing about his parents. We don’t even know if he has parents. He is never seen writing to his family, not even when the entire school quits speaking to him. He is never seen thinking or worrying about what his parents might think of him or his school performance. We might be able to infer something from his asking Jack Bruce, “Doesn’t your father mind your motoring?”–as if he expects a father to be the sort of person who disapproves of one’s hobbies and interests. Whatever the case may be, Sheen’s behavior cannot have come out of nowhere. It points to a likelihood that he was raised in an environment where his guardians were authoritarian, expected complete subjection, and valued children being seen and not heard—to an extent even greater than the typical late Victorian / Edwardian family. Sheen has evidently learned from a young age that the best way to survive is to comply, lie low, and not venture too far into anything unfamiliar and potentially dangerous.

This boy certainly has my sympathy. He does not have my contempt. These are not behaviors that one consciously chooses to adopt out of some kind of moral failing. But the narrative, by leaving out whatever story explains why Sheen is the way he is, seems to imply that it is his fault that he falls short of the schoolboy ideal, and the kind of people who surround him reinforce this perspective. Sheen has had only a few friendships, all of which have been basically transactional. Stanning only wants Sheen around when he needs someone to play the piano at forbidden house parties off-campus—having a musician on hand was quite a commodity in the days before radios and music streaming services etc. And then there’s Drummond, who views Sheen as both a mystery and basically a project. Sheen chooses to develop this friendship because he sees in Drummond what he himself wishes to be and hopes that whatever Drummond has will rub off on him. Neither of these relationships are built on genuine camaraderie, trust, care for each other, etc., and it’s clear that they’re doing Sheen more harm than good. Stanning invades Sheen’s study to taunt his studiousness, call him a "worm" for staying in, call him “flabby as a dough-nut” for not playing sports, and then try to convince him to come to another house party. Sheen does not want to do this again after a previous bad experience, but Stanning embarrasses him into admitting that he doesn’t want to go because he’s afraid. The narrative understands that Stanning is a jerk and a horrible “friend,” but when Drummond, whom we’re supposed to see as the more admirable person, enters, he basically does the same thing.

Drummond chases off a couple of boys who have decided to get themselves a free tea by showing up to Sheen’s study and acting like they were invited, taking advantage of his reluctance to stand up for himself. He lectures Sheen about the importance of looking out for himself lest others walk all over him. “It’s for your own good,” he declares. “And it’s really pure slackness that’s the cause of it all.” Sheen tries to counter that he hates hurting people’s feelings, and Drummond dismisses this by claiming that no one at the school has any feelings. He then leaves to run off a younger student who has the audacity to use the bathtub when Drummond wants it—and pokes his head back in to Sheen’s study to brag about how his system of assuming that no one at the school, especially not younger students, has feelings is so much superior to how Sheen would have handled it.

This is not the behavior of a friend. He is not encouraging Sheen to improve himself; he is using his disdain for Sheen’s timidity to feel better about himself. Yes, Sheen does need to develop a backbone. But what has this boy done to deserve the hatefulness with which everyone around him treats him?

The inciting incident comes when there’s an ongoing fight in the neighboring town between Wrykyn boys and some local youths, kind of about politics but mostly about having an excuse for violence. Drummond and Sheen happen to be out during one of these confrontations. The expectation is to just join in with their schoolmates. Drummond eagerly leaps in. Sheen panics and questions the advisability of fighting. And then he walks away as fast as he can. Back in his study, he tries to argue with himself that he did the right thing—he’s in the sixth form and the headmaster disapproves of such behavior from the older boys, there’s no reason for him to get involved in a fight not his own, he wasn’t a coward but rather kept his head better than Drummond!

And the thing is…he’s right. The fight with the town boys was stupid and pointless. He was the only schoolboy there with any sense for getting out. He didn’t know what the fight was really about. He had no personal stakes in it. He was not in any immediate danger or protecting anyone in danger. There is absolutely zero rational reason for him to get involved. He has done nothing wrong.

But the narrative and Sheen’s conscience, steeped in schoolboy culture, don’t see it that way. Sheen is filled with shame as he realizes that “He had been afraid, and had shown it. And he had shown it when, in a sense, he was representing the school, when Wrykyn looked to him to help it keep its end up against the town.” And thus “He had disgraced himself. He had disgraced Seymour’s. He had disgraced the school. He was an outcast.” The priority, according to these values, is reputation and a sense of honor that depends on proving superiority at all costs. Ethics don’t matter. Reason doesn’t matter. Schoolboys are put on this earth to make their house, their school, whatever group they’re part of, be the best, which can only be proven by winning. The point and purpose of a conflict doesn’t matter, as long as one participates and preferably emerges victorious. And woe to anyone who does not conform.

This is a typical mindset of that culture at that time. You could even argue that it led to World War I (which is where all these boys are headed anyway in another seven years). It is clearly destructive. And in this story, we are seeing how destructive it is on a much smaller scale. Sheen is beating himself for making a completely normal and sensible choice. And when Stanning spreads the word, the whole school is outraged, viewing Sheen’s walking out as a moral failing on his part and—even worse!—the part of his house. Everyone is incredibly invested in what this overlooked loner does and does not do all of a sudden. No one questions the outright lies that Stanning elaborates the story with. Younger students call names and throw things at Sheen’s study door, and the older students—“the senior day-room,” a sort of all-powerful student council that can go so far as to “court-martial” anyone who strays from the unspoken rules—decide to “cut him dead,” that is, refuse to speak to him or acknowledge his existence. When Sheen tries to visit Drummond to talk over what happened, Drummond orders him to get out, and the friendship ends there. We’re supposed to see Drummond as a good guy for not ratting Sheen out and shushing the boys of their dormitory who are harassing Sheen. But that’s the bare minimum of decency. The refusal to interact with him is not the behavior of a true friend.

But there is one person who is a friend to Sheen even when no one else will be: Jack Bruce. Bruce, as a day boy (not a boarder) on the Engineering side of the school (most of the boys are on the Classics side), is somewhat socially detached from the rest of the school and rejects the popularity that he could have on the grounds of his father’s importance as a prominent local politician. Like Sheen, he’s a loner who’s quiet by nature. He shows up in the music room to listen to Sheen practicing piano, asks to hear a particular piece again, and thanks him. This is the first time anyone has shown Sheen any appreciation, and it leaves an impact, especially in the midst of being ostracized.

Nevertheless, Sheen believes that he needs to somehow restore his honor, and the only way to restore honor is to fight. He goes to town hoping for another skirmish to throw himself into. Instead, he meets Joe Bevan, who involves himself in a fight not for glory but to defend Sheen, who is struggling to hit a town boy. And instead of berating Sheen, Bevan offers him some friendly advice on fighting technique that includes multiple Shakespeare references. This gets Sheen’s attention. Despite his failure, he’s feeling euphoric since at least he tried and “He had tasted the pleasure of the fight, and he wanted more.” A bit concerning that he’s developing a taste for violence for the thrill of it, but the narrative isn’t concerned about this.

Bevan, a retired professional boxer who now works as a trainer, sees Sheen as a viable candidate for boxing lessons, and Sheen eagerly agrees. He wants to win a competition and prove himself! Bevan, on the other hand, sees boxing as a practical skill that everyone should know for the sake of self-defense and defense of women (who, presumably, are not included in that “everyone” who needs to learn boxing). So Sheen’s lessons begin, and they really are good for him. He's getting the benefit of learning a sport, he develops self-confidence, and he’s building a positive relationship with his trainer. The narrative emphasizes the importance of sympathy in a boxing instructor, and Bevan is regarded as an ideal. He is positive and encouraging with Sheen, never harsh or critical. And that’s exactly what Sheen needs—someone who can see the worth inherent in him and help him see that worth too.

…except that’s not really the point that the narrative makes. Sheen “could hardly realise that he had only begun to despise himself in the last fortnight. Before then, he had been, on the whole, satisfied with himself.” I think what’s trying to be said here is that he used to be complacent, not truly satisfied, but the implications here are unfortunate. Why would his despising himself be a good thing? He has been motivated to improve himself, which is good, and the balance of athleticism and scholarliness that the narrative recommends is a good thing (although I question the stance of Athletics Are Better To Focus On If You Can Only Have One), but he has undertaken this for reasons that stem from self-loathing, and that will cause problems later. The narrative, however, is not concerned with this. Balance and well-roundedness are important, sure, but the issue needs more nuance than it is given here.

And then there’s this: “As the days went by, Sheen began to imbibe some of Joe Bevan's rugged philosophy of life. He began to understand that the world is a place where every man has to look after himself, and that it is the stronger hand that wins. That sentence from Hamlet which Joe Bevan was so fond of quoting practically summed up the whole duty of man—and boy too. One should not seek quarrels, but ‘being in,’ one should do one’s best to ensure that one’s opponent thought twice in future before seeking them.”

“Don’t be belligerent but stand up for yourself when you need to” is reasonable enough, but to pair with a mindset of greater strength equaling greater power and authority and that being the ultimate goal is questionable. This is exactly what Drummond was preaching at the beginning, and it basically commends intimidation of anyone perceived as weak or lesser. And honestly, we don’t really see Bevan putting that into practice necessarily. His defense of Sheen was looking out for the underdog. So, is Sheen’s understanding of Bevan’s philosophy flavored more by the influence of the schoolboy culture than anything his trainer is really instilling in him?

Sheen finally gets up the nerve to confess his alleged cowardice to Bevan, and Bevan’s reaction is to say, “Never you mind, sir […] We all lose our heads sometimes. I’ve seen the way you stand up to Francis, and I’ll eat—I’ll eat the medicine-ball if you’re not as plucky as anyone. It’s simply a question of keeping your head. You wouldn’t do a thing like that again, not you. Don’t you worry yourself, sir. We’re all alike when we get bustled. We don’t know what we’re doing, and by the time we’ve put our hands up and got into shape, why, it’s all over, and there you are. Don’t you worry yourself, sir.” The lack of condemnation in this speech is refreshing to Sheen, who thanks Bevan, but note that Bevan still seems to regard walking away from a senseless fight as—well, not a crime, but still an inadvisable course of action, a forgivable mistake that could happen to anyone, but a mistake nonetheless. They’re men, darn it, and men fight.

Which Sheen proves when a schoolmate tries to appropriate a fives court that Sheen has already claimed and Sheen proceeds to hit him after polite firmness is ignored. This seems an unnecessary escalation (it would have made more sense if the other guy had started something physical rather than Sheen being the one to resort to violence first, which violates the Hamlet principle), but it’s viewed as a triumph for him. It is not enough to develop confidence; he needs to be comfortable with violence to be a proper man, according to the cultural standard.

The other guy, rather than admit that Sheen hit him, spreads lies that fit the public view of Sheen as a contemptible coward, and his house in particular turns more against him, since “The pride of a house is almost keener than the pride of a school. From the first minute he entered the house a new boy was made to feel that, in coming to Seymour’s, he had accepted a responsibility that his reputation was not his own, but belonged to the house. If he did well, the glory would be Seymour’s glory. If he did badly, he would be sinning against the house.” So it doesn’t matter investigating to find out the truth; anything that calls reputation into question must be stamped out. Once again, Drummond puts a stop to this, but it’s because of his sense of fair play, not that he particularly cares about his former friend. When some boys plan to vandalize Sheen’s study and destroy some of his books to lessen his chances of winning the scholarship, Drummond stops them, but only because it’s an affront to the house. Such a noble fellow.

Bruce, on the other hand, gives Sheen a lift in his dad’s car to get him back from Bevan’s before lock-up—no questions asked. When Sheen admits his shameful past, Bruce merely says he had heard something about that and doesn’t react further; Sheen’s reputation clearly doesn’t matter to him. He has taken lessons with Bevan too, and he offers to give Sheen rides to and from and to be a sparring partner. Oh, and next time Sheen practices the piano, could he play that one particular piece? This is an actual friendship, and it’s clear that Sheen is at his best in Bruce’s company as he is in Bevan’s.

Sheen gets further opportunities to demonstrate his newfound confidence. He confronts a boy whom he believes sank the boat that was his only way of getting home; this was not the case, and the discussion ends on a polite and resolved note with no violence. This is positive. When having to supervise the dormitory in Drummond’s absence, Sheen keeps order by using a “swagger stick” (a cane carried by prefects) to beat the younger boys who attempt to tear his bedding apart. The narrative sees this as a positive development too and emphasizes that he must not show weakness in front of the younger boys. Corporal punishment of this sort was typical in such schools, and its use here demonstrates the philosophy of asserting superiority through greater strength/violence. Sheen’s new confidence is something that he needs, but in this culture, unfortunately that must come with a greater desensitization to violence.

Drummond once again proves himself a jerk by rejecting Sheen’s offer by letter to box for the house since “we must have the best man,” but this is apparently acceptable because he wasn’t as much of a jerk as he could have been and didn’t write back with “don’t be a fool” as he originally intended. The house must come before individuals, but for Drummond finally “pity succeeded contempt” and he tones his reply down because Sheen has had a rough time lately (though he deserves it!) and “at one time they had been pals.”

The honor of the house is such a priority that there is debate about reinstating Sheen’s position because they need him to win for them in fives, but the head prefect of the house is too much of a people-pleaser to push for this because it would upset too many people. Unable to compete in any sport for the house, Sheen proceeds to win the scholarship, and the head prefect develops enough gumption to publicly congratulate him at the dinner table, a tradition intended to “reflect glory on the house”—otherwise, no one but Bruce acknowledges his victory. This still isn’t enough to restore his honor, so Sheen is starting to feel that his boxing efforts are pointless now that he has no opportunity to use his skills to compete. This hasn’t been about learning the skill for its own sake and for his personal betterment—this is still about trying to please others. Sheen has never really stopped being a chronic people-pleaser; he has just learned to channel that in a more socially acceptable direction. There’s also a gendered angle to his anxiety to win a competition; he doesn’t care so much about how his skills will benefit him in life when he wants “a chance of proving himself a man with his hands.”

He really has nothing to prove. He has plenty of reasons to respect himself. But in the culture that he’s stuck in, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what others think of you and whatever group you belong to—that determines one’s worth as a male, and neither he nor anyone else around him has thought to question that. What he needs to hear is that competition to restore his honor shouldn’t be the point of all his hard work, that the skill and the qualities it builds in him are their own reward, and other people don’t get to define his worth for him.

…instead, Bevan’s response is to point out a new opportunity for competition that Sheen has overlooked. He can go to Aldershot to compete with boys from schools all over the nation. His desire to restore his honor through winning is thus endorsed by the narrative. He does not have to reevaluate what he really wants or needs.

In order to do this, he has to present his plan to his housemaster for approval. This requires him to tell Mr. Seymour the whole story, including the shameful incident. Mr. Seymour, despite being Sheen’s housemaster and seeing him every day and being generally responsible for him, has no clue whatsoever that the entire school has been shunning him. This obliviousness to what is going on among the students socially is presented as a matter of course, as if it would be abnormal for masters to be involved in their lives of their students. To a large extent, these boys seem to run things unsupervised—and we can see how well that’s working out. Anyway, when Sheen tells him that everyone “cut” him and he “had rather a rotten time,” Mr. Seymour’s only comment is “Well?” (in the sense of “And then what?”). So Sheen adds that he “was a bit sick” (i.e. upset) and took up boxing, and again the reply is “Well?” Mr. Seymour’s concern here is not that his student was being socially bullied to the point of feeling like he needed to redeem himself, but to find out how this boy came to learn to box, a skill which can be an advantage to the school. Apparently “cutting” someone for alleged cowardice is a normal, reasonable thing, not worth raising any questions. Although he is concerned that Sheen might not be as gifted a boxer as he thinks he is and has reservations about letting him go to Aldershot, these are easily dismissed. He wants Wrykyn representation at this competition very badly, and he sympathizes with Sheen’s desire to restore his honor.

So, if you were thinking, “Why doesn’t Sheen report anything to a teacher?”–this is why not. No one at Wrykyn is supposed to have any feelings. If people are being jerks to you, tough. It’s probably your fault. You are only of interest based on how well you perform to make the school look good.

Sheen goes to Aldershot. He wins. His final opponent is a boy of ambiguous mixed race, who is described and referred to in rather offensive terms, including by Sheen himself—the boy who was once worried about giving offense has now “progressed” into someone who privately psychs himself up for a fight by thinking slurs about his opponent. The win is an unsurprising climax—the standard sort of thing for this story. It’s “the greatest moment of his life.” But the narrative is just as interested in the aftermath of the victory, because its whole point was always for the sake of what others will think.

There’s a detailed account of how one of the boys reads the sports papers before the others, finds out about Sheen’s victory, hides the paper for maximum dramatic impact whenever he chooses to deliver the news, but finally convinces Sheen himself to reveal the news at the court-martial that’s now taking place for him. Without him.

It's a humorous and satisfying scene that earns Sheen the chance to receive his former detractors’ sudden admiration and the chance to “score off” Stanning, who has been the one running the rumor mill. But interestingly, Sheen does not take the opportunity to call anyone out on the cruelty of “cutting” him, or the general unjustness of this system. His only addressed concern is why the senior day-room of Seymour’s “can’t manage things of this sort by yourselves, without dragging in men from other houses [i.e. Stanning].” The system is unquestioned; the only problem is a house’s not being insular enough—or perhaps, more to the point, accepting information against someone from a potentially malicious source without verifying it. Sheen is able to dismiss Stanning without violence—but with the fear of violence behind it now that he has a name for himself as the victor of his class at Aldershot.

The final chapter deals with the headmaster addressing a problem which has long gone unchecked. Rampant bullying? No, that’s no big deal. The serious offense here is Sheen going out of bounds to attend boxing lessons. But Bruce puts in a good word for him, and everything is fine. The last we see of Sheen, he is off to have tea with Drummond, who suddenly wants to be friends again now that Sheen has done the socially acceptable thing, but the book ends with him in conversation with Bruce, who wants to know all about Aldershot and how Sheen is feeling after it. Although the so-called friendship with Drummond has been rekindled, there’s significance in the concluding focus on connecting with Bruce, who has consistently been a good friend, even when Sheen had nothing to offer socially. Even with the admiration of the whole school now, the one that Sheen prioritizes is someone who values him for himself.

And quite frankly, I wish the narrative did too. Sheen’s development has been striking and in certain areas has done him a lot of good, in terms of skill and self-confidence. But it has done nothing to give him a sense of self-worth that is based in anything besides how he performs—and conforms. His quest to change is rooted in a desire to measure up to others’ standards, he needs to publicly exhibit how much he has changed in order to feel worthy, and he must achieve success in a way that adheres to what is valued by his peer group in order to be accepted by them. No one at Wrykyn is forced to reevaluate how cruel their treatment of Sheen was or how skewed their priorities are. He instead has to better conform himself to their ideal. He has to downplay his studiousness—but still somehow win the scholarship. He has to develop a more hardened mentality toward others, more willing to resort to violence and harshness. He doesn’t entirely lose his reserved manner, but he does become more cutting in his politeness. He has to be less concerned about what others will think of him because it’s either them or him—but yet he has to be concerned enough about what others will think in a way that ensures that he toes the line of what the senior day-room crowd approves of. In the end, is Sheen really the improved version of himself or just a shrewder player of the game that was schoolboy culture?

For someone of Wodehouse’s background, that was how you survived. Someone like Sheen in that time and place would have no other choice but conform without question. And that’s rather tragic.

But there’s a bit of evidence of Wodehouse’s developing more nuance around this with later books. By the time of Mike and Psmith, the protagonists refuse to conform at their detested new school but in the end choose to participate in school cricket anyway—not out of peer pressure, or for the honor of the house or school or whatever, but in order to help out a friend, for whom the gesture means a lot. Doing the right thing by other people is more of a concern in that narrative. Sheen would probably have thrived more at a school like Sedleigh, the setting of M&P—it’s a pity he didn’t get transferred there.

Sheen at the beginning of his story is a lot like how I was at that age. Now that I’m older and in the middle of my own arc—I mostly just want to rescue him from that awful environment. He deserves better.

#The White Feather #yes I am using the phrase 'restore his honor' in profusion #and if that makes you think of another character then that's exactly what it should be doing

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vibratingskull · 4 months

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I as so excited you open your request.

Can I ask a ThurfianxF!reader based on your Thrawn mate story? I would love if reader was sent to the Chiss Ascendancy by Thrawn (like he knew reader would match with Thurfian by her smell or something)

This will challenge our xenophobic boy, and I'm sure the fact that out of all he gets to meet his "mate" thank to Thrawn, will piss him off more than the fact that the reader is human.

g:xkf;glghogfuhfd THURFIAN MY BELOVED ❤️❤️ My old man ❤️❤️❤️ He would have a heart attack in all honesty 🤣

Beautiful drawing by the talented @thrawns-backrest

Tags : Thurfian is an ass, xenophobia, mate system and culture, attempted assault, Thurfian saves the day (Go King!)

Thurfian lays his head on his hand, scrolling on his comm. He likes to get an idea of the current climate through comms during his rare break times throughout the day to compare the info he receives on his official feed on his computer. It helps him get new points of view and perspectives.

That also means going through an impressive amount of tabloids. He really should look into how to block these sites on his comm, they are a nuisance and a disgrace to true journalism. He is scrolling through one of them rapidly when the title of an article stops him.

“Truly cut for the role? Why the Mitth Patriarch’s lack of mate highlights a worrying trend.”

He remains fixated on that one for a solid minute, completely flabbergasted. His first instinct is to call his lawyer to have that tabloid closed for the affront, but it passes quickly. Instead, he puts his comm down sighing, feeling tiredness washing over him. He passes a hand through his long braided hair, laying his head back against his chair.

The most painful thing is that that rag is true. All Patriarchs of every family recorded in history with a big H had a mate, no exception ever. Some found them sooner or later in life but none reached his age without a partner sitting with them on the throne. He is quite the exception.

The shameful exception.

He feels Thivick disapproving gaze on him during diplomatic dinners with other Patriarch and their mates, the seat next to Thurfian being desperately empty.

His hand comes to loosen his collar to allow him to breathe better. He closes his eyes, feeling defeated.

It was not always like that in his life.

He used to collect lovers back in his youth, potential mates or not, none were safe from his charm. A large collection of Chiss visited his bed when he was a young adult. He shamefully admits that he played potential mates to get access to their intimacy before leaving them when they were no longer fun. Non-potential mates were less difficult, they both knew what they were here for. And then he started his career as a syndic and left dating and playing around in the past to dedicate himself to his career. He, naively he will admit, thought he would meet a new potential mate at work, getting to know each other day by day, falling in love over time, and deciding to mate and unify himself with her, finishing his life at her side. Something simple and uncomplicated.

Boring to some, sufficient for him.

But all the women he met were taken, non-compatible, or rejected him. Mates tend to get together young when they can, way younger than he was already back then. He made peace with his situation, choosing to focus on his career and what he could do for the Mitth, becoming a “mateless”, one of those people who failed at settling down with a compatible person in time. Not the most glorious, but he could do with it.

And all was well.

Until he became a Patriarch.

And his situation was brutally rubbed into his face again.

A Patriarch without a Mate is a failure.

No matter their results.

Having a mate is the first step toward respectability in Chiss society, and a Patriarch failing at that task is the subject of gossip and mockery and always on the verge of being overthrown in favor of a more stable individual. It is such an easy insult to throw at him. And he fully deserves it. If he didn’t play so much with potential mates in the past he wouldn’t have his sulfurous reputation of player and heart stabber. Not so many potential mates would have rejected him since then.

He recalls how he used to modify his smell with perfume, something highly prohibited in Chiss society. Misguiding the potential mate of someone else by modifying one’s scent markers is highly illegal.

But he was young, hot-headed, and an idiot.

And today he pays the price of his entire life choices. He grew and matured decades ago but the harm had been done.

Sometimes he envies mateless species. Simply living and falling in love or living free of the marital and mating duties... Sounds comforting and liberating.

When was the last time he felt the presence of a potential mate?

Several years, easily.

More than ten years since he last smelled that delicious scent of honey, liquor, and tea leaves on someone. The one scent signaling him that this person is compatible with him. The same as his.

He greets his teeth.

“The Mateless”

His unofficial title when his back is turned.

His shame, his dishonor. The stain in his life.

But what can he do now? He is fated to finish his life alone, the question is more about how he will meet his end. Back in time, non-mated Patriarchs could get executed for failing their family, for being too unstable, and for not providing an heir to the family.

It was millennia and millennia ago, of course. Chiss evolved past those barbaric laws, but the prejudice remained, remembering Thurfian that ages ago his life choices would have guided him to the pillory.

Thurfian suddenly freezes and opens his eyes wide, almost trembling in shock.

That smell...

No.

It’s impossible. He must hallucinate, that’s the most logical explanation.

Thurfian suppresses a laugh at his own idiocy. Of course, it is impossible. Crossing paths with a potential partner at his age is simply improbable. He shakes his head with a light chuckle, what a stupid thought just crossed his mind!

He turns back to his files, waiting for the hallucination to settle.

But five minutes later, the scent he stopped hoping for is still here. Well present.

Heady.

Overporwering.

Making his head turn and his heart pumps harder. He almost starts feeling vertigo.

He gulps, passing his hand through his long hair.

He needs to calm down and be rational.

This is impossible.

But the delicious scent of tea leaves titillates his nostrils, like a dare, like a temptation.

He needs to be sure!

He almost jumps on his feet, before remembering who he is and calmly exiting his office. He is the Patriarch and a Mitth for the Warrior’s sake! He slowly, almost lazily walks in the corridors of the Manor.nHe really needs to keep his expectations low. They surely already know about his scandalous reputation. But maybe...

Just maybe...

They could come from a far enough away world to have never heard about it!

Highly unlikely!

But he cannot help but hope.

The further he walks into the Manor, the more significant the smell of tea leaves gets, the notes of honey and liquor mixing deliciously, enhancing that superior scent. Thurfian chides himself. By all accounts that mysterious person will already be taken and mated to someone else. But nothing prevents him from coming to meet and befriending them.

Yes.

A friend is also appreciable, he has so little left since he accessed the throne. He nods to himself. A friend would be perfect.

His comm rings, prompting him to stop to check it.

It is a Syndic of the family signaling that a stranger with the highest priority code message wishes to meet Thurfian, waiting for him in the Manor’s salon. The message is short and leaves no guessing about the urgency of the demand.

But not even a family name? Thurfian frowns, dubious.

And the salon is exactly where the delicious scent is leading him right now.

When he reaches the large and heavy old-style wooden doors of the salon the delectable smell invades his lungs and nose, he can breathe it in at each inhalation. That’s definitely them!

He opens the door to meet the Syndic who sent him the text.

“Patriarch?” They ask surprised, “What are you-”

“I am here to meet them.” He cuts them short, walking past them.

“Ah! Patriarch! Wait! Plea-”

Thurfian keeps going and passes the arches with palpitations.

He turns his head and...!

Stops dead in his tracks as the stranger turns their head to his arrival.

An alien!

A... Human!

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

“I need your help for a delicate mission, Commander.” Grand Admiral Thrawn said to you, skirting his desk to sit.

“Of course, Grand Admiral.” You stend to attention, “What can I do to serve you?”

Thrawn smiled tightly. Always energetic and willing to serve, obeying every one of his orders and missions with brio and excellence. You were one of his most trusted officers with Karyn Faro. Nothing he could ask you would throw you off your rhythm or deter you.

You crossed paths pretty early in your respective careers. You were one of the first to recognize Thrawn genius and merit in warfare and followed him ever since, asking the chain of command to affect you with him on every ship he received the commandment of.

Your loyalty towards the Empire slowly melted into loyalty towards the Chiss. He never said anything, that he, himself, could fail and precipitate your end. That he could become your very death if your true colors were revealed.

But you were just so good at your job! He trusted you with his life and he worked to keep you both out of the blast radius. He needed your competencies and skills at his side.

But...

Maybe the Ascendancy needed you more.

He remembers.

The man, looking straight at him with cold detachment during his trial before disappearing in silence.

His Patriarch.

Single and alone.

Unstable, they would say.

How could he command the Mitth family in those conditions?

Thrawn somehow sympathises. He knew he could only rise so high in Chiss ranks as a mateless, that at some point his genius would stop carrying him and his mateless character would stop any further ascension.

They needed someone with something to lose in command.

Not an unstable like him.

And as freeing as it was for him to come into a system where mates were not the norm, he also realized long ago that he couldn’t change his home in any meaningful manner. That the mate order was here to stay.

But maybe he was also not the only one suffering in this system. Now that he has risen to the top he understands the pure loneliness and isolation that come with power, but if it is here to stay for him, he can maybe still lend a hand to that man.

It is not uninterested, far from that. It is purely strategic. Chiss politicians seemed to care a lot about the mating order, to the point that mateless individuals could get fired at any given moment in favor of a mated. And Thrawn remembers his History books, the fate reserved to mateless Patriarchs.

To those men and women who failed to conform to Chiss values and therefore weakened their families. And although he has no real good grasp of politics, he has no difficulties imagining that a weakened family of the nine could greatly destabilize the current system and the Chiss Ascendancy as a whole.

So if he sends you, his little miracle back home, maybe he could help stabilize the powers in place. That was risky, but beating the odds is his trademark after all.

Admiral Ar’alani discussed it with him lately, confirming that the Patriarch that sent him away was still in place, still mateless, still unstable, and therefore dangerous to the Ascendancy.

Thrawn could very well wait for him to fall and get replaced, but Ar’alani told him that he remained a very powerful blood Mitth. A powerful blood Mitth that would owe him a very, very huge debt if his plan worked. And he knows he will need all the allies possible when he gets back from exile to the Ascendancy.

So maybe

Just maybe

If he sends you to that man...

You may just be his ticket to more power and freedom to protect his people.

Honestly, he didn’t believe it at first when he met you. How could you, an individual from a mateless species, be compatible with a Chiss?

But his smell didn’t misguide him. Your scent and pheromones are highly specific and match his Patriarch’s profile.

By all means it was a crazy plan, but he already agreed with Ar’alani that she would take you on the Steadfast and guide you into the Ascendancy. As an Admiral without ties to any family, she will be able to give you access to the Mitth Manor by playing her cards right and he will give you his message, his “peace treaty” as Ar’alani called it.

That’s very much not his style and usual strategies but how could he survive in the long run if his tactics don’t evolve with the times?

“At ease, Commander. It is a very peculiar mission, that will need fineness, dexterity, and tact, but I trust you. I know you will rise to the challenge!”

“For you, I will!” You assured him.

‘For you’

If you were any of his other officers he would have chastised and corrected you in an exemplary manner! You were here to serve the Empire and not just a single Grand Admiral.

But your relationship evolved past that point long ago and he came to appreciate your devotion to his person.

And right now he hopes this devotion is as deep as he imagined it for you to accept this mission. Because this is not just a diplomatic mission. It is a life-changing mission.

Mating with someone isn’t a laughing matter to the Chiss and he knows full well you will go without knowing your true purpose.

He cannot reveal it to you.

You would say no.

Understandably.

And he does feel guilty to trap you in such a way, but he knows his time is limited in the Empire and he must prepare his return to the Ascendancy. And a willing Mitth Patriarch could ease a lot of difficult situations.

He remembers his discussion with Ar’alani a decade ago, about how he saw people as tools. He needs to see you that way to send you there, no matter the friendship that came to form between you two. He eases his guilt thinking this is not such a horrible fate for you, to become the Mitth Patriarch mate is to live free of worries and wants, in a comfortable home with sophisticated and cultured persons.

You will have it easy.

At least money-wise...

Ar’alani warned him of Commander Eli Vanto’s tepid welcome among his people and chances are you’ll get the same. He knows you can take it, he is more worried about the Patriarch’s behavior.

Will he ever accept a human as a mate? Will the Chiss accept a human as a Patriarch mate?

Your status as a diplomatic agent will protect you but as soon as you will set foot in the Manor, the Patriarch will understand and his reaction is unplannable.

But those who don’t try and take action get nothing!

“I need you for a diplomatic mission. A very, very long diplomatic mission...”

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

"State to me again. Why are you here?" The Chiss asks you.

You straighten your back and readjust your position on your chair. What doesn’t he understand ?

“I am here on behalf of one of your good friends. I bring you a message and an offering of peace and appeasement, he also asked for me to offer my service to you.” You repeat, controlling your tone to not sound condescending.

It is simple really.

The chiss, the ‘Patriarch’ looks at you intently, his hands clasped before his lower face, his burning red eyes fixing you like he was trying to disintegrate you. What’s annoying you is his manner of bringing a perfumed handkerchief to his nose every five minutes, like he was keeping a gag at bay. You took a shower and dressed in a freshly washed uniform, why does he act like you reek?

Does Chiss have more sensitive olfactive receptors? Does humans smell is that unnerving to other species? Thrawn never specified any such info to you.

“Because you think he is one of my… ‘Good friend’?” The Patriarch asks with a sneer.

“He is your fellow Chiss, and a Grand Admiral of a close power nation with sensitive information about the immediate survival of your Ascendancy. He considers it sufficient to demand you listen to his propositions."

The Chiss eyes fall back on their equivalent of a datapad, reading again what Thrawn proposed. You’re only the messenger with Admiral Ar’alani, Thrawn didn’t specify to you the intricacies of his proposition and wrote everything In Cheuhn, his mother tongue.

As the man reads again the terms of the treaty you take time to observe him in more detail. Tall, with deep blue skin, and burgundy red shiny eyes, despite being older than Thrawn he is dignified and haughty, clearly still having long decades before him as Chiss live longer than humans according to your Grand Admiral. His clothes are expensive with very intricate embroideries and multiple layers of pricey fabrics, the prominent red color seems specific to this family. Braided long hair in a sophisticated fashion, makeup enhancing the sharp Chiss features, now you know why Thrawn had the habit of underlining his eyes with red eyeliner… A single intricate ring, probably a family heirloom, proof of his role as head of the family.

So this is the man...

The one you promised Thrawn to serve, for ‘the good of both species and future diplomatic relationships’ as he put it. You silently sigh. You are doing it for him. For the genius that he is and his mission… You had all the time to question your sanity and why you accepted.

But you know why…

Because Thrawn’s gaze was clear and assured, and this could only mean one thing

Victory.

Thrawn warned you this mission could take as long as a year, if not more… way more. But you accepted nonetheless…

Well at least this ‘Patriarch’ isn’t displeasing to look at, it is your only consolation considering his bad temper. He never once was impolite but made absolutely no effort to make you feel welcomed and comfortable.

As a soldier, you don’t mind. As a diplomatic agent, his lack of concern is a red flag for the mission.

“Why you?" He asks out of the blue, eyes lazily raising back to meet yours, or rather to make you lower your head.

You don’t. You look straight into his burning gaze, unflinching. Is he asking why Thrawn sent a woman? His contracting throat muscles indicate his real mood, the little patience he has, and his true desire to have you walk away from there.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn trusts me.”

That’s litteraly the only reason he gave you. You could tell he had another reason, but what Thrawn wants to keep hidden, will remain hidden.

The Patriarch raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I already conducted several diplomatic missions, I am…was his go-to officer for them and speak several wild space languages, like the one we are using now. I was the most suited for the job."

He sneers, your answer far from satisfying him.

“I am afraid that isn’t sufficient to be worth my time."

“I know your secret.”

Again, he raises an eyebrow.

“And what secret do you think you know exactly?” He inquires with a sadistic smile stretching his lips.

"How you travel through space. Without any Navigation computers. This secret.”

His smile vanishes instantly, an incredulous expression flashing on his face before melting in a controlled, but very much real, anger.

“You are lying.” He modulated his voice carefully, the tone is almost sweet with a note of poison.

You very sternly shake your head.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn took care to teach me. He wanted to make sure you would not send me back, not with my knowledge.” You plainly state.

His expression closes back in a detached, cold, and aloof expression. You cannot read him anymore.

“You are bluffing. He is an indiscreet and a fool, but he would not betray the secrets of our navy like that.”

You sigh, reaching the end of your patience.

“You use little girls with very rare capacities.” You let him know without a shadow of a doubt.

He closes his eyes slowly, taking in the information that yes, Thrawn did actually spilled the secret to you.

“You realize I could very simply have you executed and get done with all of this?”

“I am under the protection of Admiral Ar’alani and Supreme Admiral Ba’kif.”

You hear a faint growl emanating from him. Whatever happened between them, the Patriarch and the Supreme Admiral aren’t on good terms.

You try to smile politely.

“Come on Patriarch, are the mighty Chiss so terrified of one woman? I am but a messenger from one of your compatriots, only wishing to do good for our two nations. Take it as the opportunity to build privileged ties and bounds with a future powerful neighbor. Your family would be on the forefront of the scene and the negotiations.”

“Do not teach me how to do my job.”

“Far from me that idea.” You temper, “I am merely pointing out the benefices you could get by listening to the Grand Admiral.”

“You spoke so highly of your dear Grand Admiral. Learn that he left us with a terrible reputation and was sentenced to be exiled for treason. We do not give credit to his words or any of his peace offerings.” Once again, he takes his scented handkerchief to his nose and deeply inhales it.

“I am aware. He also contests those accusations but counts on your common sense to see the bigger picture.”

“I think we are finished here.” He stands haughtily, “I will ask Admiral Ar’alani to conduct you back to your Empire and your dear Grand Admiral.”

“I am going nowhere, Patriarch. He bestowed me this mission and his trust and I intend to honor both.” You stop him firmly.

He contemplates you with lassitude.

“Why going so far for him?”

“I trust him.”

“That cannot be the only reason.”

“To you, it may not be sufficient. To me it is. I learned to know him and I saw the grandeur of Great men in him.”

“How touching. Someone will escort you to the do-”

“I invoke the Protocol 39 of Chiss laws for diplomats.” You cut him.

This time you thought his head would really explode.

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

Thurfian lets the fresh water roll on his skin.

He is absolutely fuming.

Where did you learn about that stupid protocol 39?! That damn law should get repealed urgently! A law offering asylum to alien diplomats who know about that particular protocol has no place in their books. It is a useless remnant of a past era of the Chiss Ascendancy when they were weaker.

But you knew about this protocol and invoked it out loud, and now he has to offer you protection...

He sighs.

Of course...

Ba’kif told you. It is the only possibility.

Whatever Thrawn planned, Ar’alani and Ba’kif are in leagues with him, leaving him all the mess to deal with.

What in tarnation Thrawn had in mind? Revealing one of the most dire secrets of the Ascendancy to a human? That Vento one wasn’t enough, he had to send another lost puppy to the Chiss. But this time he sent it to Thurfian.

He almost wants to laugh thinking back at that ‘peace treaty’ as you called it. Gibberish, unenforceable, naive. Thrawn learned absolutely nothing about politics during this decade. His true goal is so apparent and frankly Thurfian feels like he spat in his face.

Who does he think he is? And who does he think you are to even think this could work?

Him? Mitth’urf’ianico? Mating with an alien? Thrawn lost the last remnants of his foolish mind.

How would that even work? You humans have no mates, what did he hope would happen?

He gulps, his throat dry.

His own body hoped for something...

To his horror.

His dignity revulses at that thought, but his body awakened quite... brutally at the proximity of a compatible individual.

A young

Unmatched and single

Potential compatible individual.

He hates to admit it, but you are the prime example of a perfect Mate. A shame you are an alien, that spoils everything.

But his body, again, disagrees with his morals.

It only sees a potential, fruitful, and willing potential mate, ripe and ready for the harvest. His own body betrays him, desperate to get to know you better and pushing things to their climax.

It his demanding you, craving you, your scent, your voice, your touch...

It has been almost 6 months.

6 months of pure torture for him. Of his body feeling the presence of an available mate and entering fight mode to deter any potential rivals. 6 long, long months he tried to put the most distance between you two, keeping you as far away as possible, hoping it would ease his urges and cravings, only for his organisms to demand you harder, resorting to pain to force him to get closer.

6 months of him being hunted by lustful, disgusting dreams of you two together, waking him in a cold sweat, hard and shameful.

And you had to keep harassing him! In the name of your Warriordamn devotion to Thrawn you kept testing him every day. He has to hand it to you, you are dedicated.

He sees himself in you, back in his youth when he pursued lovers, the relentless chase, and the thrill of the hunt. But you have no idea of the true reason why Thrawn sent you here, to him. Would you have been a Chiss, he would have reveled in your insistence.

He tried everything to make you leave of your own will, to the subtle passive-aggressive ways to downright discrimination and hate. Anything to keep you far away. But you took it all, unflinching, dignified, keeping your head high in front of everything the Chiss threw at you.

He lowkey respects your attitude. He understands better what Thrawn saw in you and how you earned his respect and friendship. Not everyone would have held on before such treatments, he has met plenty of Chiss that would have chickened out long ago.

But you didn’t.

You remained, with your insufferable smugness and attitude, as infuriatingly spruce as ever.

And now he really has no ideas left to escape you and the temptation that you are for him.

He dreamed so much of dropping to his knees before you, kissing your hand reverently if you promised to be his and his alone, to devote yourself to him like you do with Thrawn, if you let him do what it pleased him to you...

He woke up horrified each time.

What other reaction was he supposed to have in front of such dreams?

Give in? Not a chance.

He remembers how he tried to push you out of his office the first day, your delicious smell was so overpowering he honestly thought he would pass out from his awakening urges. The last time he felt so... Alive was decades ago. He had to inhale his perfume handkerchief to limit the vertigos and baseless pulsions he felt pushing in his veins. He slammed the door once you exited his office, taking support on the wall to not fall to the ground with how he was trembling. He needed a long, icy cold shower after that.

You are no Chiss! How could you have such an effect on him?!

Did Thrawn knew?

Did he deduce that it was possible? Oh he really thinks he did Thurfian a favor, that he will be indebted to him.

But he just sent him a tormentor.

When Thrawn comes back

He comes back...

He will find Thurfian in the forefront of his detractors, ready to guide him to the pillory. He will find the exact opposite of what he tried to create.

Did he really think he would be able to come back untouched just because he sent him an alien to fuck? Thurfian remembers Thrawn having difficulties with relationships and socialisation but this is a real new low...

And to think he expects him to lower himself to you?! Him, the Patriarch of the Grand Mitth? Does he think he is desperate to find a mate? That he will accept anyone thrown his way? Even an alien?

He knew Thrawn had weird views but this one is an insult plain and simple.

He exits the shower to go down and eat breakfast with his family. Another long day ahead of him. Another load of pain waiting for him. He needs to get rid of you...

He needs to find a way. Any way.

He passes the large arches and his senses are immediately assaulted by your... obsessive scent. He swiftly takes support on the wall to not fall before the sheer power of your presence.

He REALLY needs to get rid of you, murder is still an option. It can still happen.

You are speaking with a member of the Mitth about something he does not care about. His first instance is to leave and climb back up in his suite, but that would be an admission of weakness on his part. That would be admitting you do have an effect on him, and he doesn’t intend on revealing that.

He already has enough problems like that. If Thrawn and his socially impaired character were able to deduce that you are compatible with him, then that means everyone in the Mitth Manor picked it up by now. He needs not to be a genius to know they all speak behind his back. And that’s also why he forbade you from leaving the Manor despite him trying to avoid you. He will not let the rest of the Ascendancy know one of his possible mates is a human.

Leaving the room right now would give them prove them right.

And that is not happening.

He takes his seat and takes out his questis to read today’s meeting and missions, ignoring you blatantly. He almost manages to focus and forget about everyone’s presence when he hears you laugh.

Cristallyne and melodious.

Delectable to hear.

So pleasing to his ears...

He deeply inhales to take back the upper hand but cannot help a guilty side glance in your direction.

You are radiant, smiling with a gleaming shine. You smile at another male, giving him your attention.

And that...

Infuriates him!

He mentally shakes his head, he needs to stop being so foolish but he cannot help the rising ire in his veins.

You are speaking an accentuated Cheuhn now. You made very great progress, proof of your brilliant intellect and willingness to serve him. And that accent is just soooo... Exotic and musical, just so pleasant to listen to.

He wants to listen to it for hours, he wan-

He chastises himself. He wants none of that. He is not jealous of that man. He does not dream about you every night.

This is not him.

This is his baseless urges and instincts speaking. Not his personhood.

He is way better than that. Way above that.

Way above you...

He would rather remain ‘the Mateless’ than associate with you. And prove Thrawn’s point.

This trial is far from over...

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

You silently walk in the corridors of the Manor. You don’t want to get spotted, Patriarch Thurfian would be heavily displeased if one of his guests spotted you. You just want to grab a snack anyway, you will not take long.

You listen to the music emanating behind the closed doors of the ballroom of the Mitth Manor, a very large party is taking place. You received explicit interdiction to appear, not that you wanted it anyway. You can hear the lively discussions and waves of laughter, this is a lively party. You reach the kitchens and start picking up in the dishes destined for the banquets.

A bit of this, a bit of that... You grab a fruit and head towards your room.

As you walk past one of the doors opens, letting you have a glance at the party. You have a sneaky look, only to cross gaze with Thurfian inside, looking straight back at you, frowning, ordering you to get the fuck out of here pronto. You scurry away, not wanting to get him on his nerves.

You’re not especially in the correct attire to be seen by all those guests. You are in your nightdress, ready to go to bed after your little snack, and you will really look out of place among those high-standard guests for sure.

You sigh, after a whole year here, Thrawn didn’t show up as promised. You knew it could take longer than what he told you, but you are almost a prisoner here, forbidden from leaving the manor altogether, your weapons and uniforms confiscated. They limited your contacts with Ar’alani and Ba’kif to a minimum. You had to fight tooth and nail to just have the right to own a questis.

Thurfian cannot bear to see you. He forbade you from approaching him entirely, but in every room you enter he seems to follow, only to look at you with disdain and horror and leave without a single word. You don’t know what his problem is but if he could have banished you to the other side of the Ascendancy, he would have done it.

Thank the Maker Admiral Ar’alani explained Thrawn’s plan to Supreme Admiral Ba’kif and he gave you that nice little trick with the protocols. Or it would have been a nice little trick if you could have accomplished your mission given by Thrawn, but in those conditions it is impossible.

‘Sorry my friend, I failed you for the first time’ you think bitterly.

“I told you they hide an alien!” A male voice raises behind your back.

You stop and spin on your feet to meet the disturbance of your peace. You met a group of four tall Chiss, looking at you up and down. Something in their demeanor displeases you immensely.

“And quite a looker! Look at that skin color, it looks so soft!.”

A fifth man appears behind your back, blocking the only other exit of the area.

“Where are you going like that, little one? You will need an escort, a lot of bad people roam around that kind of party.” One of them speaks casually as they all circle you.

“I thank you for your concern, good sirs. No need to bother with me, I am going away immediately.” You inform calmly, discreetly looking for an opening.

The situation is not yet dramatic, but with five men against you, you will be in severe difficulty.

“Mmmmh listen to that accent, it is absolutely lovely. Can you sing well too?” The one behind walked so close that he could grab a strand of your hair to wrap it around his finger.

You immediately slap his hand away.

“Careful man. She is feisty.” One snigger.

“I love them feisty.” He responds licking his lips, “Tell me girly, are you the pet of the house?”

“I am no one’s pet.” You growl.

The next one approaching will receive your fist in his teeth.

“A hottie like you, hidden away from the rest of the world like a secret... Someone wishes to keep you all for themself.”

You fight the desire to sigh loudly to their face.

“You are imagining things. Slow down the wine and let me pass, I need to sleep.”

“You can sleep with us if you want. We have the whole night ahead of us.” One of them grabs your hand and attempts to pull you away towards a darker room.

You throw your fist in his face, feeling something broke under your knuckles and hearing a growl of pain. The man is projected against the wall violently, under his comrades round eyes.

“You BITCH! Seize her!” He growls, his hand pressed on his bleeding nose.

They suddenly jump on you, grabbing your arms and clothes to tear them apart. You bite, claw, punch, and kick them back, giving them a hell of a hard time. But it is clear very soon that you will not win against five pissed-off opponents, not without a blade. And slowly fear settles in.

No one will hear you.

No one will save you.

No one wi-

A gunshot blasts in the air, stopping the commotion entirely.

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

He just had a bad feeling.

When he first smelled tea leaves, liquor, and honey he just felt ire in his veins, what the fuck were you doing around here? When he caught a glimpse of you between the two cracked open doors in your nightdress he felt his stomach tie itself in knots and his heart pumping faster.

He shot you with his gaze to make you get out! Away from him you devious temptress!

But when he saw this group of men leaving the ballroom right after you, he felt the ground opening under him.

He knows very well this kind of gaze they had. How many times him and his friends had to fight off creeps like them to protect their girlfriends back in the day? A lot. Too much.

Way too much.

He could not fight off the cold sweat rolling in the back of his neck when they walked past him with that deranged smile.

His hand unconsciously slid inside his inner tunic, feeling the cross of his personal Charric solidly attached in its straps. His head told him to stay in the ballroom, that aliens’ problems weren’t his.

But his heart told him that he couldn’t let such a horrifying act happen to any woman he knew, not under his own roof, not even to a pain in the neck sent by Thrawn, alien or not. His own morals couldn’t tolerate it!

And his instinct screamed at him to protect you specifically, his organism growing territorial and protective over you. You seem very well trained, and a part of him knows you are deadly with a weapon.

But he confiscated each and everyone of your weapons and sealed them away.

He even confiscated what you called a comlink. You will have no means to call for help. No one will hear your screams.

He put you in this situation!

And as that thought strikes his brain he realizes that he is furtively following the group of young men, his charric in hand. He doesn't see or hear them. He only has to follow your delicious scent..

He reaches a door and hears a moan of pain. A woman’s voice.

Your voice.

He sees red, all rational thoughts leaving his head. He kicks the door open and shoot a random mirror, dangerous glass shards exploding across the room.

They all stop.

You’re on the ground, nightdress torn apart, face bloody, limbs pinned to the ground with one of the creeps lying on top of you.

Your abusers turn toward him, their ears still ringing from the loud sound.

“Get off her.” He orders coldly.

“Patriarch Thurfian, what are yo-” Thurfian doesn’t let him finish and fires at the foot of the one speaking up, making him scream a pitiful wail of pain.

“Get.Off.Her. Or I shoot you down like dogs.” Thufian very calmly, very slowly, but very menacingly repeats.

He is dead serious he realizes. He has no idea who they are, they very well might be sons of important syndics or magnates, but he knows that if they don’t obey he will shoot them dead without any second thoughts about any of the consequences.

His gaze falls on you. You are in terrible shape and visibly terrified. His heart bleeds at such a sight...

He treated you terribly for an entire year to push you to the door and you took it with grace and determination, unsinkable. He never thought he would see such an expression on your face ever.

This fear in your human eyes is absolutely odious. He wants to get rid of it immediately.

Your attackers let you go reluctantly while the fifth is crying on the floor, holding his wounded foot. The one laying his disgusting body on top of you groans as he gets up, displeased that his fun is now ruined.

Do those types of men know no decency? No sympathy? No respect?

“Protecting your candy, heh?” The one on top of you chuckles, looking at him.

“What?” Thurfian snarls, heading the canon of his charric towards the chest of the impertinent.

“I smelled it on her.” He licks his teeth. Absolutely revolting, “What would the other Patriarchs say if they knew about her, I wonder?”

And suddenly, Thurfian’s anger subsides. His boiling blood turns into icy cold water in his veins and his mind gets clearer. His trembling hand shaking with fury steadies perfectly and he simply presses the trigger. The revolting man gets thrown back, hit in the chest. His friends jump and shout in surprise, incredulous that he dared fire his fellow Chiss over an alien.

Thurfian takes his comm out to ring his bodyguards as they look at their unconscious friend lying on the ground in a pathetic position.

In an instant, Chiss in uniforms enter the little salon, handcuff your attackers, and call an ambulance for the trash that got shot. Thurfian walks to the table. During the commotion you crawled in a corner of the room to put as much distance as possible between you and your assaulters.

You are trembling, knees pressed against your chest, your human skin soiled by your blood, almost naked in the cold room. He gets on one knee and detaches his Patriarch coat to pass it around your shoulder.

You shudder as his hand inadvertently brushes your shoulder. Look at you, terrified and lost.

And that is his fault. Only his fault.

Without a single word, he seizes your body and lifts you up bridal style. You yelp in surprise, looking at him with questions in your... gorgeous eyes. He carries you out of that room, without a single word for Thivick that just arrived.

Your scent reaches Thurfian nose again, and for the first time since you arrived in his manor, he indulges. He deeply inhales those delicate and harmonious notes.

His heart jumps in his chest as he feels you pressing yourself against him, huddling your wounded body against his, laying your head on his shoulder.

He should feel indignant. Revolted. Absolutely revulsed!

But the proximity feels comforting, it feels right. Like it was meant to be all along.

Did the Warrior himself placed you on his way? Did he remained mateless all of this time because he was waiting for you?

He doesn’t know. And frankly, he doesn’t care. Having you in his arms feels like the only good thing that happened to him in a long, long time.

He has a lot of explaining to do. But first, dressing your wounds.

He enters the infirmary and lays you in one of the beds. The medic stands up to start the treatment but Thurfian simply pulls the curtain, isolating both of you from the rest of the world. He washes his hands and washes your face delicately with a wet cloth.

You wince in pain, you received several blows that tore the skin apart in several places, and bruises of a variety of colors are already flourishing on your human skin.

“I am terribly sorry, (Y/n).” He simply says.

What else can he say after such an aggression? What words could comfort a victim?

“They will be brought on trial. They would not go unpunished.” He assures you.

You sniff with disdain, not believing his promise for a second.

“You all say that each time that it happens, but nothing gets done.”

“You have my word. With the testimony of a Patriarch, they will not be able to escape justice.” He tries.

You huff again, pushing his hand away.

“Why would you even do that? You made it very clear I was not welcomed anywhere in the Chiss Ascendancy, especially in your presence. Why shoot one of you for a ‘mere human’?”

He can feel the pain in your voice, how it twitches your features, how you gulp with difficulties.

‘Because I am physically incapable of seeing you suffer.’ are the first words popping into his mind and he almost says them out loud before biting his tongue.

But this is the truth. The fear he felt when he saw you in danger, the urge to tear those men’s eyes out of their sockets for just breathing weirdly in your direction, the absolute desperation when he saw your eyes widen in horror and fear.

He had to fight his attraction and desires towards you the entire year for him to shoot a man down at your first trouble. He hid behind the pretension that it was only his instinct getting desperate to not find a proper mate that they were desperate to settle with anyone, even a lowly alien.

But seeing you in this state makes him feel so guilty. He could have made your stay pleasant, welcomed you properly, and shown you the wonders of Chiss culture. But he locked you inside the Manor and limited your contacts with the outside world out of fear.

That they would know that you were made for him.

He could have made it easy for everyone and even facilitated future diplomatic relationships with humans like you proposed when you arrived.

But no. He had to act like a child and now look at the results...

“Because it is my job to protect guests under the Mitth roof.” He answers, muzzling the truth. “I will make sure it will not happen again.”

“I do not believe you.”

“I shot a man for you tonight.”

You turn your head away from his red gaze. He feels the urge to dive in the crook of your neck and kiss it, his body wants to hug you close and make sure you are safe.

But maybe...

This isn’t just his body speaking.

Maybe it is simply him too...

He wants to kiss your lips and swallow your pain and fear for you to only know peace and serenity in his arms.

He won’t, obviously. You are in shock, now is not the time for romantic advances.

“You could have just sent me back to Thrawn... You did not want me here anyway, why not allow me to go back to him?” You ask, fighting back sobs.

Now that things are settling down your body needs to evacuate the tension and stress of the aggression.

So you start crying.

Stabbing his heart deep.

‘Because I couldn’t let you go...’ He thinks with a sigh, realizing it as the thought crosses his mind.

He disinfects and dresses your wounds in silence, letting you cry to your heart’s content before sitting down and taking your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“Things will change from now on. I will give you back your weapons and uniforms, I will let you explore Csilla as you wish, and I will arrange a rendezvous with Ba’kif and Ar’alani. If you wish to go back to Thrawn, I will set you free...”

His hearts bleed at those words because he knows he wants the exact opposite as he is proposing it to you.

“But if you wish to remain and finish your mission, I would appreciate sharing a cup of tea with you, one day at your convenience. I want to know you better...”

And a little more he hopes.

Maybe one day you’ll forgive him.

Maybe one day you will hold his hands and call him yours.

He will wait, as long as it takes...

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

#thurfian x reader #thurfian #mitth'urf'ianico #thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #fanfic #vibratingskull

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