#there was so much speculation and rumors that were presented as facts without sources or proper research

[symeraid-s]

Ignoring the entire shitshow around Eurovision this year, it was pretty solid for music.

Switzerland absolutely deserved to win. The Code is a bop and their performance was my favourite of the evening.

Croatia also was really good. Baby Lasagna has a really strong voice and I really liked the vibes of it overall. Also, he's apparently an Electric Callboy fan, so that's a plus in my book.

Ireland was solid. I don't think I like the song as much as other people, but their staging and the screamo parts of the song were perfection.

On the other hand, Israel got way too many points. I kind of expected it, but it still stings. Like, even if the votes were unpolitical (which is highly doubtful), the song wasn't that good. Lativa had a way better ballad.

A thing I definitely didn't expect though, was Germany being in 12th place. It feels wrong to see us on the left side of the scoreboard. Though it is also funny, because Isaak told a newspaper: "who would want to end up on place 12?" He really jinxed himself with that one.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I’m not saying it’s true but it does make me wonder where Richard Eden got the story. Well, who do you think was his source?

Ok, so ever since the anon earlier from the weekend reminded us that Richard Eden was the one who started the affair rumors, not Giles Coren, I've been doing some digging because "Richard started the affair rumors" did not sound right to me. Yes, he's messy, but he's not that messy. He wouldn't come out and accuse William of cheating that directly without proof.

And I was right. I dug up Eden's original column from March 15, 2019. He does not say anything about an affair. He says:

As the wife of our future monarch, the Duchess of Cambridge was assumed to be queen bee of the 'Turnip Toffs' who live near Anmer Hall, the country home she shares with Prince William and their children in Sandringham, Norfolk. Friends claim there is, however, a rival to her rural crown: she is Rose, the ex-model married to their neighbour, the Marquess of Cholmondeley. "On the face of it, it's bizarre, but Kate seems to see Rose as a rival," claims one of their aristocratic set in East Anglia. The reasons for the alleged competition remain unclear, but there is no doubt the two couples have become close friends since the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were given Anmer Hall by the Queen as a wedding present.

It seems to be a follow-up to this 2016 article by Catherine Ostler, written after the Cholmondeleys hosted the Cambridges as part of a Norfolk charity gala dinner benefiting East Anglia's Children's Hospitals (one of Kate's patronages).

In her article, Ostler claims that Rose is "queen bee" of the Turnip Toffs because she has the grander life - literally the exact same life that Kate does without the pressure of the crown and public expectations, and a much more palatial home.

The fact that both reporters used the phrase "queen bee" is telling because it's never been a descriptor for Kate. No one in her circle, the rare few times they've talked, have ever called her a 'queen bee' or described 'queen bee' behavior, suggesting that Ostler's and Eden's depiction of Kate as 'queen bee' is simply drama for clicks and hits.

Now it's possible there are things we don't know about Kate. But someone who's been in the public eye for 12 years (at the time of Ostler's writing), surely if she had 'queen bee' traits and expectations, it would have been more publicly noticed by now.

Eden's article sent all the royal reporters scrambling to Norfolk to find out what the hell is going on. That led to the infamous 'Turnip Toffs' article by Dan Wootten, published on March 22, 2019, in which he writes that:

[R]oyal insiders say Kate has refused and told William, 36, that former model Rose needs to be “phased out” as one of the ­couple’s closest confidantes. Our source revealed: “It is well known that Kate and Rose have had a terrible falling out. They used to be close but that is not the case any more. William wants to play peacemaker so the two couples can remain friends, given they live so close to each other and share many mutual friends. But Kate has been clear that she doesn’t want to see them any more and wants William to phase them out, despite their social status.”

No one was speculating about whether it was an affair. It might’ve been a theory on the Sussex Squad’s side of social media but it wasn’t “big” enough to make it a global topic.

Enter Giles Coren, on March 26, 2019:

I’m not sure what article he’s referring to and unfortunately these tweets appear to have been deleted.

Coren’s tweet set the world on fire. It was picked up by social media and Sussex Squad immediately. Including Nicole Cliffe, who blew this up in American media, which successfully brought the rumors off social media and inserted them into mainstream media.

Cliffe is a parenting advice columnist from Slate and co-editor of a defunct feminist satire e-magazine, from Canada but living in Utah (👀, because if you know, you know). She describes herself as:

a simple woman who stans for Meghan and has spent years paying way too much attention to these weird inbred people.

On March 30, 2019, she went on a Twitter rant about the Kate/Rose/Norfolk drama. Unfortunately for us, those tweets have since been deleted.

Unfortunately for Cliffe, the internet is forever and someone screenshotted for posterity.

But much like Cliffe accuses Clarence House and Kensington Palace of “doth protest to much” here, she becomes equally guilty of “doth protest to much” by doubling down on these claims and using a dubious source - a source so dubious that Cliffe later edited her article to acknowledge it’s a problematic source…while still claiming it was an authoritative source! Because

this story [is] factual enough to have fun with.

(Let’s pause for a second: a parenting advice columnist decided to duck with a marriage that had three small children because she stanned a woman the couple weren’t close to and she found the facts fun to play with.)

Fast forward 3 years and Coren has had enough of being blamed for the affair rumor. In January 2022, Coren refutes claims that he’s the source of the affair rumor, saying:

Fake news: Every time the story of Prince William’s supposed affair with Rose Hanbury comes round again in the American press, as it has this week, the first source quoted is always a 2019 tweet from “British royal reporter Giles Coren”. So can I please just say that, while it was far from being the worst thing I have ever tweeted, I was JOKING. I know nothing about the royal family! I’d had a boozy lunch talking to fellow hacks about the story and in the cab home went online to blurt: “Yes. it is an affair. i haven’t read thee piece but i know about the affair. everyone knows about the affair, darling. even us jews.” Just look at it. Look at the spelling. The non-capitalisation. The grizzly ethnic self-identification. It’s hardly Chips bloody Channon, now, is it?

Well, sure. Coren hates the attention *now*. If it was the joke he claims it was, then why not do damage control immediately when he sobered up?

Coren doubles down in October 2023, refuting again that he’s the source for the affair, this time saying that he was making a joke.

Confirming once again that yes, he’s really tired of being blamed for the affair rumors and he hates getting dragged into this over and over again. Well, buddy, maybe should’ve thought about that before drunk-tweeting.

The internet lives forever, everyone. Coren will forever have to deal with being the only eyewitness who confirmed William and Rose having an affair. He definitely hates it (and I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost opportunities because of it) but this is the bed he made. Whether he’s repeating gossip he heard from Norfolk, spreading a rumor that Meghan allegedly started, drunk-tweeting, or making a joke, the fact remains that he blew it up. And being a reporter for The Times gave him credibility and authority, regardless of whether he was a royal reporter or not, that meant people would take his words seriously and not at all treat it as the joke he may have intended. How could he have not realized that?

Anyway. Let’s recap:

Richard Eden of the Daily Mail had a source leak to him that Kate and Rose weren’t getting along and that Kate saw Rose as some kind of rival.

Dan Wootten investigated Eden’s story and confirmed that Kate and Rose weren’t getting along and that Kate had needed a break from their friendship and asked William to support her. William husbanded the situation by trying to fix it for Kate instead of just listening to her.

Times reporter Giles Coren then tweeted that the Kate-Rose falling out was actually because of an affair between Prince William and Rose.

Nosybody writer Nicole Cliffe then tweeted that it was so obviously an affair because it’s the only explanation for why previously-close brothers William and Harry no longer got along since she adored Harry’s wife and knew it had nothing to do with her. Cliffe then doubled down on her interpretation.

In January 2022, Coren revealed that he was drunk and had been making a joke when he posted his tweet saying it was an affair.

In October 2023, Coren doubled down on “it was just a joke” defense.

So…there it is. I think we can absolve Eden of being the source of the affair rumors. But Eden absolutely is guilty of starting this drama but to think it ended up spinning into something he never expected.

Now - you know it’s coming - what’s my theory about what happened between Kate and Rose?

In 2018, Rose was named a patron of EACH. Kate, as we know, has been patron of EACH since 2012. In this article announcing Rose as a new patron of EACH, they report that EACH was building a new center, called The Nook, to replace its current operations building, with construction set to finish in…drumroll please, March 2019.

So probably what happened, considering that Eden used the word “rival,” is that Kate saw Rose as stepping in on her work with EACH, maybe being dismissive of her ideas and support, and they butted heads about it. Because let’s admit it; how many of us have been in situations where the newcomer to the group wants to feel heard and show their excitement, only to end up doing too much that it ticked off the original group?

And March 2019 when Eden revealed the “rivalry,” EACH, including their patrons, would’ve been planning and preparing to open The Nook. And possibly there were disagreements about what to do or how to be involved. Kate got upset and was hurt and needed a break from the friendship or some time away (because remember, she also had a baby at home and was also dealing with a devolving situation with Harry and Meghan so the stress could’ve been piling up).

As for William getting dragged into it, per Wootten’s story? I suspect he husbanded and tried to fix it for Kate instead of just listening and helping her get space for the situation to cool down.

In the end Kate officially opened The Nook in November 2019 and on January 5, 2020, Rose was part of the Cambridge group of friends that had joined Kate for her birthday weekend, suggesting that the ladies had patched things up.

Because not every disagreement or falling out between women has to do with a man. It’s the twenty-first century. We’re better than that.

Now, going back to the anon’s question. Who is Eden’s source?

No idea. Some theories:

Rose or a friend, upset that Kate was maybe trying to push her out of work with EACH. (I don’t think it was Rose herself because it would spell disaster for her husband’s work if someone that close to the monarch - and who would eventually be supporting King William - had a spouse who leaked about private/personal grievances to the press.)

Someone close to both women who talked too much, too openly.

Someone just stirring the pot for drama’s sake.

Someone who wanted to make Kate seem petty.

But Harry has a theory. He writes, in Spare:

Harry goes on to say that he and William had already confronted Charles about this aide once before and it hadn’t gone well:

What do y’all think?

[horizon-verizon]

I love when people say the maesters lied and made Alicent look evil in the book. The maesters, founded and sponsored by the Hightowers, and located in Oldtown ???? Also isn't it the point ? It's from the maesters’ POV so describing Alicent as an agent of patriarchy, traditionalist misogynist, and religious fanatic is actually them honoring her. They consider her an example of how a woman should be.

Yes. From how many times Gyldayn sought to write and include how fat and unattractive Rhaenyra was at least 2x -- once with Eustace saying she ate a lot of lamprey pie as if somehow that matters & once saying that she would have hated Alicent just for their contrasting body shapes; the Shepherd’s suspicious background; all the times the sources and Gyldayn spend way too much time and focus on Rhaenyra’s sexual activities in comparison to any other woman in the Keep (her and Daemon, her and Criston, her and Mushroom, her and Laenor/Qarl Correy or Harwin); how Gyldayn allows the emphasis of how Aegon II’s terms to Rhaenyra fair with no contestation of Rhaenyra’s perspective and just her words (what, Gerardys’s words weren’t available? Where are his diary entries, notes, books, or whatever?!).

As the born royal and heir, Rhaenyra would be scrutinized, but the level of scrutiny she receives can’t be separated from how her gender makes other perceive her as undeserving or inappropriate for the throne. And who does that benefit the most? Alicent/the greens then, and the present Hightowers and their overall image now.

While there are two quick mentions of Alicent’s trouble with female chastity -- one where there was court speculation of her virginity being intact before marrying Viserys, and the other the rumors of the Brothel Queens -- they’re also quickly made to be irrelevant in comparison to Rhaenyra. 

Alicent’s daughter, Helaena is objectified and her death is used as a weapon while also gaining a bogus sense of sexual and moral purity to use against Rhaenyra (the Shepherd) with little contest from people around Rhaenyra or reported by Gyldayn, then or now.

We remember that historical medieval writers especially wrote misogynistically often and would do much speculation than fair reasoning  (by poorshadowspaintedqueens).

*EDIT* (8/21/23):

THIS is a great post by @mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social "order", and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn't even know about Matilda's husband being comparable to Rhaneyra's Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures.  it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.  [...] as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

[cosmicjoke]

I am a bit lost for words. I didn't know you'd be upset or that you've been asked the questions I asked countless times already. All the interviews I mentioned are interviews that have been known by most people in the aot fandom...

Kamiya san never said Levi and Erwin were not even friends...

Anyway, thanks for answering... I think because you've answered these questions before you kind of brushed of all my questions to tell me it wasn't canon. Please, I wasn't trying to push you to think they are canon. I simply wanted to be able to take off my own shipper goggles but your answers have still left me confuse because the wasn't any concrete answers that didn't seem like an annoyed rant.

There is so much hostility toward the Eruri fandom by Levi stans even tho there are people who literally ship Levi with Eren. It's baffling.

There's plenty there that's concrete. You brushing my answers off as "not concrete" pretty much proves my point. Nothing you noted to me or claimed has any, evidentiary backing. It's all pure speculation and assumption and applied meaning with nothing to actually back it up, which is what I told you, which is why I don't take any of it seriously. You read meaning into scenes which is colored by your bias of wanting to see it as romantic, and when I tell you so, you tell me I've offered you nothing concrete. I gave you explanations which make infinitely more sense, when taken in the context of the actual events unfolding in the story, than to simply say it's "meant to be seen as romantic". An example, you trying to imply that Levi holding the serum to his chest is somehow indicative of his feelings for Erwin, when all it is, as I explained, is Levi hesitating because he's just discovered Erwin is alive. You want it to mean that Levi's heart is hurting, or whatever, but it literally doesn't mean anything other than what I've laid out. How is that "not concrete"? I am annoyed, because I get asks like this constantly and I've repeatedly stated that I don't want to talk about this anymore, but no one ever listens. You must know my stated stance on Eruri, so you must know what my answers will be, and yet you continue to needle me about it, like you can't just simply accept my answers.

I didn't brush your questions off. I literally went through every one and gave you my legitimate thoughts on each. You presented nothing to me which proves, or even suggest that Levi is in love with Erwin, because there simply isn't anything to support the notion. What's so confusing about that? What's so hard to accept about that?

I'm not hostile toward Eruri shippers, I'm just sick of these inane, persistent and obsessive questions I get, over and over, most of which in fact are aimed at me with the intent to argue. I said I'm sorry for being harsh, but you have to understand this from my perspective.

It's beyond tiring at this point. I gave you thorough answers to your questions, you then accuse me of brushing you off and not giving you anything concrete, because they weren't the answers you wanted, and then you act confused as to why I'm being so blunt. This kind of act gets to me, this constant hiding behind a facade of innocent intent or ignorance, as if you don't know what my opinion already is. You do, I'm sure, but you keep pushing. I've talked about this particular topic more times than I can count. You provide no evidence for the things you claim Isayama has said, saying it's because you don't know how to link to the source. There's endless supplies of false rumors and mistranslations floating around out there, and none of it matters, as I've repeatedly stated, because, again, the only thing that matters is what's in the manga/anime. That' IT. Even if Isayama said whatever it is you claim he said, it doesn't matter, because those are just off-handed, spur of the moment, vague answers given without much thought in live settings, or they're interview answers given in the midst of his writing the story, which necessarily means he can't give complete, fleshed out answers to anything, either because he didn't have a fully formed picture in his head at the time of where things were going, or he couldn't reveal what he knew because it would spoil the story.

If you want to believe Levi was in love with Erwin, go right ahead. But don't pretend like there's actual, concrete evidence or proof of it in the story, because there isn't.

I've written three replies to you now, and you haven't shown an ability to accept my answers on either one. You want to believe Levi and Erwin are romantically involved, and nothing to the contrary is going to matter to you, including the lack of proof in canon. I think this conversation is done now.

[unitedstatesofworld]

The Shocking Arrest of Dr. Aaron Wohl: Unveiling the Truth Behind the Headlines

When the news of Dr. Aaron Wohl's arrest broke out, it sent shockwaves across the medical community and beyond. Known for his remarkable contributions to emergency medicine, many were left scratching their heads, asking the same burning question: How could this happen? And more importantly, what really transpired? In this article, we’ll dive deep into the events surrounding Dr. Wohl’s arrest, explore the ramifications, and attempt to sift through the truth behind the headlines.

This isn't just another crime story—it’s a tale that intertwines reputation, shock, and societal reactions. So, buckle up because things are about to get interesting!

Who Is Dr. Aaron Wohl?

Dr. Aaron Wohl has long been a respected figure in emergency medicine. With a stellar career, he became widely known for his dedication to patients and his ability to handle high-pressure situations with grace. So, when the words "Dr. Aaron Wohl arrested" splashed across news outlets, many who knew him were left speechless. It seemed too hard to believe! After all, he was the kind of doctor you’d trust with your life.

But as the saying goes, there’s always more than meets the eye.

The Arrest: What Really Happened?

The circumstances of Dr. Aaron Wohl’s arrest remain shrouded in mystery, but reports suggest that it was related to an ongoing investigation that had taken the authorities by surprise. Sources say the charges are serious, but the details have been, as they often are, clouded with speculation and rumor.

Is this just a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or is there a deeper, more complex story unfolding? Either way, it's clear that this incident has left a huge question mark on Wohl's career and personal life. And of course, it leaves us with the million-dollar question: Could there be more to this story than what’s been revealed?

How the Medical Community Responded

It's no surprise that the medical community was stunned by the news. Dr. Wohl was a mentor, a teacher, and a dedicated professional. His colleagues, many of whom had worked alongside him for years, expressed disbelief and shock. For them, it wasn’t just about the legal troubles—it was personal.

It goes without saying that when a highly regarded professional faces such accusations, the ripple effects extend far beyond just the individual. It affects patients, institutions, and even public trust in the profession.

Reaction of Patients

Patients who had once entrusted their lives in Wohl’s hands were understandably confused. Many of them took to social media to express their feelings of betrayal. Some stood by him, defending his character, while others couldn't come to terms with the news.

It begs the question: Can we ever truly know someone’s character based solely on their professional life?

The Media Circus Begins

Of course, where there’s a scandal, there’s a media frenzy. The moment the news of Dr. Aaron Wohl's arrest hit, reporters were quick to paint a picture of guilt—long before any trial or evidence was presented. The court of public opinion, fueled by viral headlines and social media, was quick to pass judgment. And let’s be honest, scandals sell.

But here's the tricky part: How much of the media’s coverage can we trust? With every outlet competing for clicks, sensationalism often takes precedence over facts. In this case, every headline screamed for attention, each one more dramatic than the last.

Is There a Legal Plot Twist Ahead?

In situations like this, there’s always the potential for a legal plot twist. Could new evidence emerge that changes the trajectory of the case? Perhaps Dr. Wohl’s defense team is working on a strategy that hasn’t been made public yet. We can’t rule out the possibility of surprise revelations or dismissed charges.

That’s the thing about high-profile cases like this—you never quite know how they’ll end.

Public Perception vs. Reality

One of the most difficult challenges for anyone facing such serious accusations is managing public perception. Whether Dr. Aaron Wohl’s arrest was justified or not, the damage to his reputation is already done. Even if he is later cleared of all charges, the arrest will likely linger in the minds of those who followed the case.

Public perception often doesn’t change even when the legal system says otherwise. So the question remains: How do you recover from something like this? How does one regain trust after being so publicly scrutinized?

The Fallout: What’s Next for Dr. Aaron Wohl?

For Dr. Wohl, the road ahead looks anything but easy. There’s a very real chance that his career will never fully recover from this incident, regardless of the outcome in court. The nature of his profession, dealing with the well-being of individuals, means that trust is paramount—and trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild.

However, people have made comebacks from worse. With the right legal representation, a carefully crafted public relations strategy, and perhaps a stroke of luck, there’s always a glimmer of hope. That being said, it will take more than just time to heal the wounds left by the headline: "Dr. Aaron Wohl arrested".

Could There Be Redemption?

In many cases like this, public redemption hinges not just on the legal outcome but also on how the individual handles the aftermath. Dr. Wohl could potentially use this as an opportunity to rebuild, clear his name, and come back stronger. But it’s a long, uphill battle—and not everyone wins.

Would people be willing to forgive and forget? History has shown that society often loves a comeback story, but it depends on the nature of the transgression and, more importantly, the public’s willingness to accept that people can change.

Conclusion

The story of Dr. Aaron Wohl's arrest is still unfolding, and there are more questions than answers at this point. What we do know, however, is that this incident will leave a lasting impact on his career and the people around him. Whether or not he can bounce back remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: This is far from the end of the story.

And who knows? We may yet see a surprising turn of events. Until then, we can only watch as the drama continues to unfold.

[vladdocs]

ENG Letter from the Voivode Vlad Draguli Tepes of March 14, 1457. *** By content: This letter finally clarifies the political situation between Wallachia and Transylvania, which became the cause of the conflict in 1457 and later. However, to understand the situation, it is worth reading first two other documents, the first, the agreement between the parties, the terms of assistance, the second, the document of the request for help from the voivode. This document follows in this chain the third, interesting from the point of view of the conflict. After the voivode did not receive an answer, according to the agreement, he goes to the lands where the applicants for the throne of Wallachia and their accomplices are hiding. According to the agreement, if you remember, the party on whose land the applicant and his people are hiding, preferably, betrays (meets the voivode as a friend) intruders, or does not interfere with their search. Probably, the governor did not meet any assistance in Transylvania, which is not surprising, given this attitude. Having crossed the Turnu-Rosu pass and arriving at the places where the aforementioned gentlemen were hiding, but faced with complete indifference, the voivode made an attempt to persuade Transylvania to reckon with itself. The result of this was the burned villages of Kasholts, Khosman and Nou Romyn near the very Sibiu. For decades, Transylvania, which had been shaking the nerves of the governors of Wallachia, was literally shocked by such an act, unprecedented in its kind, so that echoes of indignation reached us in the form of pamphlets, legends, stories, where from year to year, from decade to decade, the number of “innocents” increases, just like the number of "victims". In those stories, it comes to the point where the death toll during that period significantly exceeds even the number of all who lived at that time in one of the largest cities in Transylvania, Brasov. What exactly prompted the governor to take such a decisive, long-needed step? Was it the indirect participation of Transylvania in all the coups in Wallachia?, the murder of his family?, an attempt on his own murder?. It is unlikely that the voivode was so restrained and patient that, having come to power “without any help,” he concludes a strong peace with Transylvania and approaches it very responsibly. This letter is also very interesting, with a phrase that some historians even interpret as a threat: “If you don’t want even more, then immediately inform us so that we can rule and govern”. However, from the point of view of the choice of vocabulary, "quod nos regere et gubern {are p} ossemus" is completely neutral and, speaking figuratively in modern words, has the following content: the voivode, being a ruler, will be able to begin to regulate the current situation only when he finds out about the further political course of his neighbor, Transylvania, and does not want to be in the dark about that, therefore he asks to inform about his decision. There is nothing else in this phrase, "reign and govern", "herrschen und lenken", in any translation, that is, to be the ruler and therefore to control the situation. For all that, few people focus on the fact that they tried to kill the governor in Transylvania when he needed help. They also pay little attention to the fact that the voivode expresses, albeit tactfully within the framework of necessary diplomacy, about his attitude to the origin of the applicant: “his infringement on our right of the true (!) Heir”, “a monk from Wallachia who calls himself a son voivode ", the latter is twice specially indicated. Given these moments, I personally cannot understand why Vlad The Monk is definitely considered the illegitimate child of Dragul, when among his sons his father is not mentioned anywhere in the documents, not even once, and one of the sons frankly says that the Monk is an impostor. In my opinion, Vlad Monk is another Neagoe Bassarab, of which, as we remember, there were plenty of them. With only one commander Dragulya Tepes, duplicated Mirchi, Vlada and

forged documents suddenly appeared. Letter from the governor Vlad Draguli Tepes dated March 14, 1457. *** Noble, prudent and far-sighted men, advisers, fathers, brothers, our sincerely dear friends and neighbors, as you remember, and you should be well aware of that, there is a commitment between us, and vows backed by unshakable loyalty have been taken; and these obligations and vows must not be violated by anyone and never, while we are alive, at any time, which we personally specifically pointed out to you in a letter. From our side of evil, we did not do you and did not intend to start that. But today a rumor has reached us and we have learned about all that, that at a secret council you were with the people of a monk from Wallachia, who calls himself the son of a governor *, settled their affairs; Moreover, Peter Gereb * from Virishmort, and Peterman *, the son of the noble Peterman, who were neighboring with you, took part in this. You were personally promised to transfer all the fees to you in Rukar and Brail for a long time, promising that Wallachia's income. * Remember the time when I wandered and arrived in your lands *, you then did not let me into your council, but instead, out of loyalty to the noble lord, the governor of these lands, Vladislav entrusted the noble men John Gereb from Wingard and Nicholas from Salzburg to capture us in the city of Joaju and to end us. But by the will of God, we ourselves were able to return our lands without any help *, but with you, we made a strong peace and thus made your enemies ours. Today we fully understand that you support a monk from Wallachia, who calls himself the son of a governor, and his people in an encroachment on our right to be a true heir, and we also understand what bad consequences for us everything can lead, since you are already Advice with him, and he, having made his way to Amlash, remained there, and is there to this day by your own will. Therefore, with this letter we ask each and every one of you that in the name of the God and according to the commandments of the Catholic faith, as well as for the sake of maintaining fraternal peace and friendship between us, after reading our letter, you will certainly write to us or report back, whether you wish further observe the order established by us and you in writing and be loyal to it. If you do not wish that more, then immediately inform us, so that we can rule and govern. Given in Targoviste on the second day after the feast of Blessed Pope Gregory, in the year 1457. Vlad, Commander of the Transalpine lands, your faithful brother, son and friend in everything. Comments: * Identity of Vlad the monk is speculative only. * Peter Gereb * from Virishmort was a judge and head of Sibiu in 1467, later he was executed in the city square because of his participation in the uprising against Corwin considered bloodthirsty). Peterman was a wealthy Sibiu merchant from Wallachia, Kampulung; the city was located on the trade route from Rukar to Brasov. The German-speaking community living there maintained close relations with Sibiu. * Fees from you in Rukar were the most important source of income for Wallachia, therefore they were never the object of donation or lease. Braila Port, located on the Danube, was the country's most important port and was of exceptional importance for trade in the western Black Sea region. The decision of the self-appointed claimant to take away the income from the country and give it to Transylvania was also unprecedented, his desire to curry favor was painfully strong. * After an unsuccessful attempt to regain legal power in November 1448, the voivode fled to Moldavia. However, there is no evidence that he was present at the court of Bogdan II. Perhaps he found refuge among the Moldovan boyars who were supporters of his family. Later, the voivode is forced to move to Transylvania, after Vladislav finds himself in the same situation as many voivods before him and therefore loses the support of the Hungarians. * Joaju (Rom. Geoagiu, ung. Algyógy) is located in the Hunedoara

Sudce, where the Hunyadi family owned vast estates and were surrounded by numerous supporters. The authors of the book Corpus Draculianum contradict themselves, first they write that the Hungarians removed Vladislav because of his pro-Ottoman policy, and then that the murder of the governor could have been ordered by Hunyadi, so that, literally: “Hunyadi wanted to prevent Vlad's attack on Vladislav, so as not to violate the truce with by the Ottomans ". Several different statements. And why would Vlad even then be in Joaju, "where the Hunyadi family owned vast estates and were surrounded by numerous supporters." Honestly, I am alarmed by the attempt of the authors of the book to constantly challenge the words of the voivode in the documents (I often notice in the comments, they say, “the voivode is misleading,” or “in fact, the reason was something else, and not indicated by the voivode” (they apparently, instead of the governor, they know much better what was the cause of what was in the 15th century, in this case the same example, after all, everything is written in black and white, who attempted and why) and suppose “their own” version. I do not know the purpose of such comments. An example, one of the many about challenging, openly refuting the words of the voivode in his letter with his statement, is the commentary on the phrase “But by the will of the Lord we ourselves were able to return our lands without any help.” In the commentary to this phrase, the authors of the aforementioned publication, the governor is accused of lying, citing a completely empty formal oath to Postumus in March 1456 and arguing that (as it turns out, it was not Hunyadi who wanted to kill, as they had previously stated) with the help of Hun eadi. In support of the versions, documents are cited that are not evidence of the indicated facts, even indirectly. In some comments, the authors of the publication accuse the voivode of issuing an ultimatum without offering any negotiations, and this is for this phrase: “Therefore, with this letter we ask each and every one of you that in the name of the Lord and according to the commandments of the Catholic faith, and also for the sake of maintaining fraternal peace and friendship between us (!), after reading our letter, you certainly wrote or reported to us (!) whether you want to continue to observe the order established by us and you in writing (!) and be loyal to it. If you do not wish that more, then immediately inform us, so that we can rule and rule. " I don’t know how even softer it is possible to write after an attempted murder, after a betrayal and a secret conspiracy, the ruler who previously concluded an agreement with you asks you to inform us about your preference in actions. I cannot understand what the authors are pursuing with such comments. _____________________ RU Письмо воеводы Влада Драгули Цепеша от 14 марта 1457 года, перевод группы Воевода Валахии XV века Влад Цепеш Дракула. *** По содержанию: Данное письмо окончательно проясняет политическую ситуацию между Валахией и Трансильванией, ставшую причиной конфликта и в 1457 , и позже. Однако, для понимания ситуации стоит прочесть сначала два других документа, первый, договор между сторонами, условия содействия, второй, документ просьбы о помощи от воеводы. Данный документ следует в этой цепи третьим, интересным с точки зрения конфликта. После того, как воевода не получил ответа, согласно договору, он отправляется в земли, где укрываются претенденты на трон Валахии и их пособники. Согласно договору, если помните, сторона, на чьей земле скрывается претендент и его люди, предпочтительно, выдает (встречает воеводу , как приятеля) злоумышленников, либо не препятствует их поиску. Вероятно, воевода не встретил никакого содействия в Трансильвании, что и неудивительно, учитывая подобное отношение. Переправившись через перевал Турну-Рошу и прибыв в места укрывательства перечисленных господ, но столкнувшись с полным безразличием, воевода предпринял попытку убедить Трансильванию считаться с собой. Результатом этого стали сожженные

деревни Кашольц, Хосман и Ноу Ромын близ того самого Сибиу. Десятилетиями трепавшая нервы воеводам Валахии Трансильвания была в буквальном смысле шокирована таким поступком, беспрецедентным в своем роде настолько, что отголоски возмущения дошли до нас в виде памфлетов, сказаний, рассказов, где из года в год, из десятилетия в десятилетие, и число «невинно убиенных» становится все больше, и смерти все краше. В ряде рассказов доходит до того, что число погибших в тот период значительно превышает даже численность всех, живших на тот момент в одном из самых крупных городов Трансильвании, Брашове. Что же именно подвигло воеводу на такой решительный, давно нужный шаг? Было ли то косвенное участие Трансильвании во всех переворотах в Валахии, убийство его семьи, покушение на его собственное убийство. Вряд ли, воевода был настолько сдержан и терпелив, что, придя ко власти «без всякой помощи», заключает крепкий мир с Трансильванией и очень ответственно к тому подходит. Данное письмо очень интересно и фразой, которую некоторые историки даже трактуют как угрозу: «Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам, дабы мы могли властвовать и править». Однако, с точки зрения выбора лексики, «quod nos regere et gubern{are p}ossemus» вполне нейтральна и , если говорить переносно современными словами, имеет следующее содержание: воевода, будучи правителем, сможет начать регулировать сложившуюся ситуацию , лишь тогда, когда узнает о дальнейшем политическом курсе своего соседа, Трансильвании, и не желает быть в неведении о том, потому просит сообщить о своем решении. Ничего другого в данной фразе нет, «reign and govern», «herrschen und lenken», в любом переводе, то есть, быть господарем и потому управлять ситуацией. При всем, мало кто акцентирует внимание на том, что воеводу пытались убить в Трансильвании, когда ему нужна была помощь. Также мало акцентируют внимание и на том, что воевода высказывает, пусть и тактично в рамках необходимой дипломатии, о своем отношении к происхождению претендента: «его в посягательстве на наше право истинного (!) наследника», «монаха из Валахии, кто величает себя сыном воеводы», последнее дважды особо указывается. Учитывая данные моменты, я лично не могу понять, почему Влада Монаха определенно считают внебрачным ребенком Драгула, когда среди сыновей его нигде не упоминается в документах самого отца, ни разу, а один из сыновей откровенного говорит, что Монах самозванец. На мой взгляд, Влад Монах очередной Нягое Бассараб, которых на деле, как помним, было полно. Только с одним воеводой Драгулей Цепешем внезапно появились и дублированные Мирчи, Влады и поддельные документы. Письмо воеводы Влада Драгули Цепеша от 14 марта 1457 года. *** Знатные, благоразумные и дальновидные мужи, советники, отцы, браться, наши искренне дорогие друзья и соседи, как вы помните, а о том должно вам быть хорошо известно, есть между нами обязательства , и даны клятвы, подкрепленные непоколебимой верностью; и сие обязательства и клятвы недолжно никому и никогда, пока мы живы, в любое время нарушать, на что мы вам лично особливо в письме указывали . С нашей стороны зла мы вам не творили и не намеревались то начинать. Но нынче дошел до нас слух и мы обо всем том узнали , что на тайном совете с вами были и дела свои улаживали люди монаха из Валахии, кто величает себя сыном воеводы*; пуще того, принимали в том участие и Петер Гереб *из Виришморта, и Петерман *, сын знатного Петермана, соседствующие с вами. Вам лично пообещали надолго передать все сборы с вам в Рукаре и Брэиле , посулив тем доходы Валахии.* Припомните же то время, когда скитался я и в ваши земли прибыл*, не пустили вы тогда меня в совет свой, но вместо этого вы из преданности знатному господину ,воеводе тогда этих земель , Владиславу поручили знатным мужам Иоанну Геребу из Вингарда и Николаю из Зальцбурга нас в граде Джоаджу пленить и с нами покончить. Но по воле Господа смогли мы сами без всякой помощи земли свои вернуть*, а с вами же мы заключили крепкий мир и тем сделали ваших неприятелей нашими. Нынче мы всецело разумеем то, что вы поддерживаете монаха из

Валахии , кто сыном воеводы себя величает, и людей его в посягательстве на наше право истинного наследника, а также понимаем и то, к каким худым последствиям для нас все может привести, раз вы уж и совет с ним держите, и он , в Амлаш пробравшись , там и остался , и там доныне находится по вашей же собственной воле. Потому сим письмом просим мы всех и каждого из вас о том, чтобы во имя Господа и по заповедям веры католической, а также ради поддержания между нами братского мира и дружбы, вы, прочтя наше письмо , нам непременно ответ написали или доложили, желаете ли далее соблюдать письменно установленный нами и вами порядок и быть тому преданными . Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам , дабы мы могли властвовать и править. Дано в Тырговиште на второй день после праздника блаженного папы Григория, в год 1457. Влад, воевода земель Трансальпийских , ваш верный брат, сын и слуга во всем. Знатным, благоразумным и дальновидным мужам, бургомистру Освальду, судье и советникам Сибиу, всем нашим мужам саксам из Семиградья, нашим искренне уважаемым друзьям и соседям. ___________________________________________________________________________ Комментарии: *Идентификация личности Влада монаха лишь предположительная. * Петер Гереб *из Виришморта был судьей и главой Сибиу в 1467 году, позже его казнят на городской площади из-за его участия в восстании против Корвина (последнему, выходит, отмечу от себя, можно так поступать с заговорщиками и претендентами на власть и не считаться кровожадным). Петерман же был богатым торговцем Сибиу родом из Валахии , Кымпулунг; город располагался на торговом пути от Рукара в Брашов. Проживавшее там немецкоязычное сообщество поддерживало тесные отношения с Сибиу. *Сборы с вам в Рукаре были самым важным источником дохода для Валахии , потому они никогда не выступали объектом пожертвования или аренды. Порт Брэйла, расположенный на Дунае, был самым важным портом страны и имел исключительное значение для торговли в западно-черноморском регионе. Решение самозваного претендента отнять доход у страны и подарить его Трансильвании также было беспрецедентным, больно сильным было его желание выслужиться. * После неудачной попытки вернуть законную власть в ноябре 1448 года , воевода бежал в Молдавию . Однако, нет никаких доказательств того, что он присутствовал при дворе Богдана II. Возможно, он нашел прибежище среди молдавских бояр, которые были сторонниками его семьи. Позже воевода вынужден перебраться в Трансильванию, после того, как Владислав оказывается в той же ситуации, что и многие воеводы до него и потому лишается поддержки венгров. *Джоаджу (рум. Geoagiu, ung. Algyógy) расположен в судце Хунедоара, где семья Хуньяди владела обширными владениями и была окружена многочисленными сторонниками. Авторы книги Corpus Draculianum противоречат себе , сначала пишут, что венгры убрали Владислава из-за его проосманской политики, а потом, что убийство воеводы мог заказать Хуньяди , чтобы, дословно: «Хуньяди хотел предотвратить нападение Влада воеводы на Владислава , чтобы не нарушать перемирие с османами». Несколько различные утверждения. Да и зачем бы Владу вообще тогда находиться именно в Джоаджу, «где семья Хуньяди владела обширными владениями и была окружена многочисленными сторонниками». Меня, честно, настораживает ко всему попытка авторов книги постоянно оспорить слова воеводы в документах (не раз то замечаю в комментариях, мол, «воевода вводит в заблуждение», или «на деле же причиной было иное, а не указанное воеводой» (они, видно, вместо воеводы куда лучше знают, что же причиной чего и было в 15 веке , в данном случае тот же пример, все ведь черным по белому писано, кто покушался и зачем) и предположить «свою» версию. Бессмысленно то. А вот какова цель подобных комментариев мне неизвестно. Примером, одним из многочисленных об оспаривании , откровенном опровержении слов воеводы в письме своим утверждением, является и комментарий к фразе «Но по воле Господа смогли мы сами без всякой помощи земли свои вернуть». В комментарии к данной фразе авторы вышеупомянутого издания обвиняют воеводу во

лжи, приводя основой совершенно пустую формальную присягу Постуму марта 1456 и утверждая, что (как оказывается, уже не Хуньяди убить хотел, как ранее ими было заявлено) с помощью Хуньяди. В поддержку версий приводятся документы, не являющиеся доказательствами указанных фактов даже косвенно. В некоторых комментариях авторы издания обвиняют воеводу в том, что он выставил ультиматум, не предлагая никаких переговоров, и это к данной фразе : «Потому сим письмом просим мы всех и каждого из вас о том, чтобы во имя Господа и по заповедям веры католической, а также ради поддержания между нами братского мира и дружбы (!), вы, прочтя наше письмо , нам непременно ответ написали или доложили, (!)желаете ли далее соблюдать письменно установленный (!)нами и вами порядок и быть тому преданными. Ежели не желаете того более, то тотчас сообщите нам , дабы мы могли властвовать и править». Уж не знаю, как еще мягче можно написать после покушения на свое убийство, после предательства и тайного заговора, правитель , заключивший ранее с вами договор, просит вас сообщить о вашем предпочтении в действиях. Не могу понять, какую цель преследуют авторы такими комментариями.

[lastsonlost]

Many of the women promoting the “cancellation” of men in comics, and demanding they post the recent empty promise known as #ComicsPledge, are in fact hypocrites.  In this article, I’m going to present evidence of lies, collusion, rumor spreading, and, in my opinion, defamation and contract interference.

I personally know that they’ve colluded for YEARS to take down men. Specifically those with conservative politics and philosophies. This is an ongoing, coordinated effort. How do I know this?

Because I obtained access to their PRIVATE FACEBOOK GROUP.

This is Part 1 of the #Hypocralypse leaks

There is simply too much to put in one leak, so I will make the following three points for now.

1. The so-called Comic Book Whisper Network, which has been dismissed as conspiracy since 2016, is real, and I have hundreds of screenshots to prove it.

2. The Whisper Network has been targeting men and trying to destroy their careers, and use their connections in the comic book media to do so.

 3. Whisper Network members have acted unprofessionally and unethically at best. At worst, they have engaged in what I believe could be illegal behavior.

MY STORY

I first heard about the Whisper Network back in mid-2016 from folks I knew at Image, DC, Marvel, and later, Valiant.  Depending on who I chatted with, sometimes the group was called ‘The Women’s Network’, other times ‘The Whisper Network’, occasionally ‘The Whisper Campaign’, and eventually there were more conspiratorial names used mockingly (a friend called them a gender-swapped 4Chan, which became ‘FemChan’ to some insiders).

Regardless of the name, it was all the same group.

The same five or six names kept popping up in conversation over and again. As time ticked on, I noticed a trend on Social Media: half a decade of rumors, false allegations, cancellation attempts , and they almost always traced back to these same five or six people.  The goal of this Whisper Network, according to industry folks, was simple: choose a target, smear them until they lose their reputation, their income, and are ultimately blacklisted – opening up job opportunities for the same people who started these smear campaigns in the first place.

 Behind the scenes these “cancellations” are painted as morally or politically motivated, but in the end it’s all financial. As time passed, the group in question seemed more and more like a reality. I saw their influence. I saw things I knew to be verifiably untrue go viral online, appearing in what I thought were legit news sources. I felt angry and helpless seeing innocent people getting attacked, but did not know what to do. 

A few years passed and by 2018 almost everyone I interacted with in the industry seemed to know about the Network, from top level editors right down to the letterers. It was an open secret, but no one was willing to speak up for fear of being targeted themselves. They knew the consequences.

And after all, this was a secret network. Without proof, there was no point in going public because members would just deny its existence, and use their media connections to smear anyone who challenged them.

 THEN THINGS GOT INTERESTING

December 16, 2018, Whisper Network member Gail Simone, who joined the Network 6 years ago (4 years before the following tweet was posted), mocks “doofuses” who speculate that a “whisper campaign” exists.

At this point in late 2018, I was still skeptical of the Whisper Network’s existence. I’d heard many stories of individuals spreading rumors and lies, and plenty of malicious behavior was going on behind closed doors. Though I wasn’t ready to believe it was a coordinated effort, or collusion was involved.  Then, certain people began openly mentioning the Whisper Network and my attitude changed.

 March 26, 2019, Heather Antos, a member herself, did not outright mention the Whisper Network or her involvement, but she made what some took as a veiled threat to those who got on her bad side.

 Heather “milkshake girl” Antos’ colorful backstory at Marvel, and later at Valiant, is notorious in the comic industry. A conversation about office rumor-spreading and bullying is never complete without someone bringing up a juicy Antos anecdote. Everyone has one.

Up until then, I still hadn’t seen ACTUAL PROOF of a larger scheme. But then, something changed in 2020.

January 8, 2020, Alex de Campi, who I would discover is one of the most active Whisper Network members, openly admits there is a Network. I have no idea if this was a slip or a brazen attempt to show off her power and influence, but this appeared.

Eventually, everything I had heard and read was confirmed beyond any shadow of a doubt after I gained access to their private Facebook group.

I WAS INSIDE THE WHISPER NETWORK!

This is the place where the Whispher Network has been colluding for years. And although their activity is not confined to just this site, from what I can tell, this was where they first met, and started their coordinated campaigns.

Members of the Secret Group called “Comic Book Women”

At present time, there are 440+ members of the secret Facebook group, called COMIC BOOK WOMEN. From what I can tell, a few are regular users, though many of them have never posted.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/comicbookwomen/ 

*unless you are a member, this will not show up in a search

Secret Facebook groups offer the same level of privacy as closed groups, but operate under a cloak of invisibility. No one can search for secret groups or even request to join them. The only way to get in one is to know someone who can invite you. Everything shared in a secret group is visible only to its members.

This secret group includes a list of members whose actions and connections speak for themselves. Members such as:

Zoe Quinn

Gail Simone

Alex de Campi

Heather Antos (aka Heather Marie)

Mags Visaggio (aka Magdalene Francis)

Mairghread Scott

And several key members of the group are women who work in the comics media and can be used to run damage control, including women like Heidi MacDonald of Comics Beat.  They have contacts outside of the secret network as well, with some male allies in both comics and the media.

Just the fact that all of these folks were secretly linked in a private network came as a shock to me, considering their reputations and the accusations that they’ve made. Immediately I began to connect the dots…

They’ve denied for YEARS that they coordinate their actions in private. And yet they always coincidentally appear on Twitter, retweeting and amplifying each other’s accusations, signal boosting one another, and helping them gain traction. And their allies in media – Bleeding Cool and CBR specifically – will turn those same tweets into stories almost instantly & with no fact-checking or verification, sometimes within the hour.

I’m going to start explaining who the key actors are, and, from my perspective, how they coordinate these attacks.

KEY ACTORS

There are too many people to focus on at once, so I will have to break this into several posts, but I will start with one of the clear group leaders IMO.

Alex de Campi is well connected, despite never being part of the Big Two (since, from what I’ve been told management is well aware of her bullying, harassment, rumor-spreading and unethical behavior that goes back years, and depending on who you talk to she’s almost as notorious as Antos or Tess Fowler).  She just wrapped up a graphic novel campaign on Kickstarter with David Bowie’s son, the Hollywood film director Duncan Jones. It grossed over $366K

All the while she makes baseless accusations while demanding transparency from everyone else.

Now, I’ll take you into their private network.

Two years ago, on May 13, 2018, De Campi launched a private campaign to target an independent creator, claiming she was using her connections to have Simon & Schuster cancel their book.

In addition to contacting the publisher, others in the Whisper Network coordinated their efforts to contact media outlets to have the narrative changed, according to the posts in this thread.  Again, in my opinion, this could end up as a defamation or tortious interference case, and has many implications regarding media bias as well.

 

The following month, on June 23, 2018, de Campi posted private text messages between herself and writer Max Bemis in what appeared to be an attempt to damage his career. Despite Bemis being mentally ill (diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2014), de Campi still posted the private messages with malicious intent IMO. According to US and UK law this is an actionable offense: posting private texts without both parties consenting.

[chaoskirin2]

As a long time Queen fan, is there anything you know about John Deacon that most fans are unaware of or forgotten? Any misconceptions? There is a lot about him but I hear all sorts of rumors like the stripper story.

I wish I could answer this with actual information. It would be great if I had something to bring to the fandom. Cool facts. Amusing anecdotes. But I don’t.

What I can say is this:

You can sense a lot about a person by how they present themselves. I think on some level, everyone has an empathic connection with the people they admire. Sometimes we find kindred spirits or people we look up to. We always want to say “My fave would never!” but the truth is, the people we look up to are human, too. They have their flaws and vices just like everyone else does.

Because people aren’t just black and white. We’re not all separated into “hero” and “villain.” There’s no alignment chart that encompasses whole populations. Sometimes bad people do good things. And sometimes good people do bad things. We should always look at the whole, and see any individual as a complete, balanced person.

We can identify and praise the good, but we can also examine and denounce the bad.

It’s important to not turn a blind eye to the bad things. But I think we also have a responsibility, before we attack, demean, or cast someone out, to verify that those things about them are true. The internet brings us into a world where published accusations have no filter, reach masses, and spread like wildfire. Before rumors can be contained and lies extinguished, too many people get absorbed into a groupthink mentality and lock themselves in an echo chamber where reality doesn’t shine.

I looked into the story of John and the adult club with an open mind. I knew I might find that it was all true in the end, and that would have been disappointing. But the important thing is that I didn’t trust the writings of an infamous, sensationalist tabloid and did the necessary work to uncover its veracity. I didn’t want to pry into John Deacon’s private life, but I think as his fans, we owe it to him not to spread false information.

And it wasn’t an easy process. In my original conversations with Sophisticats, I was told they wouldn’t talk to me unless I was seeking an audition. In fact, I didn’t hear back on the answers to my questions until months later, long after I published the original debunking. (I’ll post that under a read more below.)

In the end, I think Deacon has given us an indescribable part of himself that can’t be quantified or be given a price tag. And we owe him his privacy. We also owe him the courtesy to not seek out scandal just because he is a quiet, private man.

My original debunking of the Sophisticats Bullshit:

After carefulconsideration, I've decided to fact-check the story about John Deacon's forayinto strip clubs, titled "Queen's Boring Bassist," published in theDaily Mail on January 30, 2005.

 First, looking at theDaily Mail's track record, it is considered to be an unreliable, far-right(conservative) newspaper. According to readers on Quora, it "has zerocredibility" and is "sensationalist nonsense." User GraemeShimmin states that he uses the Daily Mail as a reverse fact-check: "if the Daily Mail says something is true thenI assume it is untrue."According to Media Bias/Fact Check (mediabiasfactcheck.com/daily-mail/) thepaper has a "poor track record with fact-checkers.) The Wikipedia articleabout the Daily Mail states that it is unreliable and biased, and has also beencriticized for instances of copyright violation.

 It has also come underfire in the past for its powerful bias. In the 1930s, the Daily Mail ranseveral articles praising Nazism and Fascism. Virgin Trains recently stoppedstocking the Daily Mail due to its strong-right stance as beinganti-immigration and anti-LGBT, among other things.

 Most notably, severalcelebrities, including Diana Rigg, Elton John, and J. K. Rowling, have brought successfullawsuits against the Daily Mail for publishing false information. Of particularinterest, and almost directly related to the subject matter of this fact-check,Melania Trump received a settlement based on allegations published in the DailyMail stating that she had been an "escort" in the 1990s.

 Wikipedia will also notallow the Daily Mail to be used as a source.

 The article itself ispoorly-written, is riddled with grammatical and punctuation errors, andcontains a general lack of impartiality. Any publication with integrity willhave a preference for neutral language which does not lead its readers to aparticular conclusion. It also contains heavy speculation pertaining toDeacon's decision to not tour or give interviews related to Queen.

 It makes the medicallyinaccurate statement that Freddie Mercury "died of AIDS." (it isimpossible to die from AIDS. People who suffer the disease die due tocomplications from AIDS' attack on the immune system. In Mercury's case, hepassed away due to bronchopneumonia related to AIDS.)

 Lastly, there are nocorroborating sources - no other articles in any publications mention that JohnDeacon ever visited a strip club or had an affair. Compare this to theextensive coverage of Brian May's marriage problems with his current wife,Anita Dobson. Needless to say, it is extremely important that multiple sourcesverify any information for it to be considered true. Of note, other far-rightsources that publish articles with no corroborating sources include BreitbartNews and the Westboro Baptist Church.

 It was very interestingthat the Daily Mail has a quote by Opposition dancer Jenny Fewins, but it isnot attributed. I found the quote's source by accident, when looking forinformation about her and her credibility. The quote in the Daily Mail wasstolen from a book called Queen: TheEarly Years by Mark Hodkinson, with no credit given. This was a surprising,but welcome, confirmation of the sources that state that the Daily Mail hasbeen cited for copyright infringement. The part about Freddie Mercury arrivingat the wedding wearing a feather boa, as well as Roger Taylor's assessment ofDeacon's personality, are also from the same book, and also uncredited.

 Both anecdotes are alsotruncated and incomplete, and spliced with false paraphrasing. For example,Roger Taylor did not say, "We were so over-the-top, we thought thatbecause he was quiet, he would fit in with us without too much upheaval."The correct quote from the original source is, "We thought he was great.We were all so used to each other, and so over the top. We thought that becausehe was quiet, he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a greatbass player, too -- and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was alsoa deciding factor."

 I cannot find any sourcefor the quote by Robert Ahwai, nor much about him, other than the fact that itseems he is a real person. His quote in the article, if it is real, is alsospeculative, and from a person who only knew Deacon from college and had noassociation with him at the time of Freddie Mercury's death.

 Unfortunately, whilesearching for information about whether or not Deacon's relationship withdancer Emma Shelley was, indeed, an affair (as well as whether or not sheexisted) I had to compare information about the affairs of Brian May and RogerTaylor. The reason behind this endeavor is to set the bar for how much information ispublished about the personal lives of Queen members. In my search, I foundseveral articles about May's affair with secretary Julie Glover, as well as ahandful of candid photographs. I also found a few articles, and one picture,about Roger Taylor's affair with Fay Lawrence. Despite celebrities' attempts tokeep extramarital affairs secret, there are always a few photographs thatappear, especially in the UK, where tabloid press is viciously always on thelookout for gossip. Paparazzi can earn quite a bit of money from an exclusivephoto.

 When Simon Langer and hispartner, John McKeown, took over the Sophisticats strip club in 2001, heestablished several club rules, which directly conflict with information fromthe article. First, that clients in the strip club are not allowed to have anycontact whatsoever with the dancers. The article states that Shelley was a"lap dancer," which would, of course, require some pretty close contact.

 Second, dancers are notpermitted to accept addresses or phone numbers from clients. Clients whoacquire personal information are not permitted back into the club, and thedancers are terminated.

 I attempted to findcontact information for Mr. Langer or Mr. McKeown, however, I was unable tofind any current addresses or phone numbers. In hopes that an email would reachthe proper entities, I sent a message to the account set up for bookings andauditions, which was the only email address listed on the site.

 I wished to ask about howstrictly the rules are enforced. I also found it odd that apparently Mr. Langerhad no problem with giving out client information to the Daily Mail,specifically stating that he knew Deacon visited the establishment. Even more shocking,he gave out information about his employees - someone named "Olga"with no last name given, as well as Emma Shelley. This seemed like a breach oftrust to me.

 The strip club that Johnis said to have attended, Sophisticats, does indeed exist. As Sophisticats hasno contact information on their website, I messaged their page on Facebook,asking as to whether they employed any women named "Olga" or"Emma Shelley" circa 2000-2001. I also located an email address aftersome extensive searching, and sent the same question to that email, as well.

 Unfortunately,Sophisticats declined comment to my inquiry. The only response I received askedwhether or not I planned on auditioning.

 The strangest thing aboutJohn Deacon's alleged affair with Emma Shelley is that one particular photo isposed, as if taken with his permission. Considering the fact that multiplesources (including the Daily Mail, which published the photo) state that Deaconis secretive and reclusive, he would not pose for a photo with a mistress if hewished to keep the affair secret. This photo is also blurry, which is atechnique of photomanipulators who have severely edited a photo. Had Deaconactually posed for this photo, there would be no need for it to be blurry, asthe photographer wouldn't have had to rush to take it. Interestingly, it isalso impossible to tell whether or not the man in the photo is actually JohnDeacon.

The answer to this point might seem obvious - the photos were taken in secret.However, with the saturation and contrast in these photos (a point I willexplore in more detail shortly) they must have been taken with a flash. Whileit might have been possible to take such a photo with a high ISO, the entirepicture would have been extremely bright and grainy. If you check the photos,you'll see that there is absolutely no grain indicative of a high ISO, nor isthere enough blurriness to support a conclusion that any grain was removed. Thebrightness of the subject matter and the extreme black background can only meanthat a flash was used.

 Which Deacon would havenoticed. As would have the dancer in the photos. The person who took the photoslikely would have had his camera confiscated, and would have been escorted outof the club - they would not have had the opportunity to take one photo, thenmove, and take a second photo.

 And... This is as far as Igot with the research before I stopped working on it. As I was unable to getany further information (including from another club that may have beeninvolved - Stringfellows) I could not continue my research. Take from this whatyou will.Sorry about the incompleteness of this. It's all I was able to accomplish.

[kfs1001]

Lavender marriage 

– Urban dictionary

A term used in the 1930s, and can still be applied today. It's a term meaning if you are an actor who happens to be gay or lesbian like so many people in the 1930s, the agent of that actor tries to marry them off with a straight person. It is either this or lose everything when the public and fans find out a particular actor is homosexual. These days it's no big deal to come out of the closet, but there are still gay actors married to a straight spouse for appearance, and reputation. This called a Lavender marriage.

Bearding 

– Urban dictionary

An act that someone gay does when afraid to come out of the closet. usually this means dating a girl when you like guys just to coverup.

 Famous Hollywood Lavender Marriages

People | June 9, 2019 - https://historydaily.org/famous-hollywood-lavender-marriages

Rock Hudson with his bride of three days, former Phyllis Gates, 25, his agent's secretary, prepares to board a Pan American Clipper in Miami, Nov. 11, on the way to a honeymoon in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Source: (gettyimages.com)

During the early days of Hollywood, a gay actor or actress had to keep their sexual preferences hidden for fear of ruining their careers. To give the appearance of being straight—and often at the insistence of their agents or studio—homosexual entertainers would sometimes marry a person of the opposite sex in what was known as a ‘lavender marriage.’ Around the turn of the century, the color lavender was often associated with homosexuality, so the term was adopted by Hollywood to mean cover-up marriages arranged to keep up the façade of heterosexuality. Let’s look at some famous lavender marriages from Hollywood.

Rudolph Valentino and Natacha Rambova

In the 1920s, actor Rudolph Valentino was rumored to be bisexual which could pose a public relations problem for the handsome leading man. His acquaintance, costume and set designer Natacha Rambova was in a lesbian relationship with an actress, Alla Nazimova, which put her in the crosshairs of studio execs. The solution? In 1923, Rambova married Valentino in an attempt to show their fans that rumors of their homosexuality were unfounded. The marriage lasted only two years. 

Danny Kaye and Sylvia Fine

Although he was a popular entertainer, Danny Kaye was never the rugged, strong, leading man type. In fact, he was often cast in roles that showed him to be weak, cowardly, easily intimidated, and effeminate. Kaye was romantically involved with other men, particularly during his Vaudeville days. In 1940, he married Sylvia Fine, a piano accompanist. The couple had one child together, a daughter named Dena, even though most people believe their marriage was a lavender one. 

Rock Hudson and Phyllis Gates

Rock Hudson’s sexuality was one of Hollywood’s worst-kept secrets. The box office star was a heartthrob leading man that had women swooning over him. In 1955, reporters at Confidential magazine threatened to publish an article exposing Hudson’s closeted behavior. His agent, in an attempt to squash the story, hastily arranged for Hudson to marry his pretty, young secretary, Phyllis Gates. Gates always insisted that it was a legitimate marriage, not a lavender one. 

Tyrone Power and Annabella

In all likelihood, Tyrone Power was bisexual. Rumors have persisted for years about romantic trysts with some of Hollywood’s other leading men. Unlike other Hollywood lavender marriages, Power chose to marry the French actress, Annabella, without pressure from his agent or studio. In fact, the couple seemed to have a happy marriage, despite Power’s roving eye and affairs with both men and women. After his affair with Judy Garland ended in an unwanted pregnancy and abortion, Power and Annabella divorced. 

Judy Garland and Vincente Minnelli

Judy Garland’s husband and the father of her only child, Liza Minnelli, lived as an openly gay man in New York for a number of years before hitting it big in Hollywood. It was the restraints of Hollywood’s morality clauses that forced Minnelli back in the closet. Apparently, Garland was well-aware of his lifestyle when she married him and had a child with him. Years later, she encouraged her daughter to marry gay men, stating that they make the best husbands. 

Janet Gaynor and Adrian

Actress Janet Gaynor’s third marriage to costume designer, Adrian Greenberg—known professionally as just Adrian—was a lavender marriage to cover up Adrian’s homosexuality and to quell rumors of Gaynor’s lesbian activity. The couple had one child together, Robin Gaynor Adrian, and remained married for twenty years until Adrian’s death in 1959. 

  Bearding is Still a Thing in Hollywood 

– By Karen Frost

https://www.afterellen.com/general-news/532837-bearding-still-thing-hollywood

“Bearding” is a slang term describing a conscious attempt by a lesbian or gay man to hide her or his homosexuality from others by appearing to date or marry someone of the opposite sex. The “beard” (or in the case of a man used by a lesbian for the same purpose, the term used in the U.S. is “merkin,” which is a pubic wig, or in the U.K.“frock” (according to the Internet)) is normally witting and participates in the ruse as a favor to the other person or in return for some benefit.

Bearding has been around probably forever, but the use of the term “beard” specifically to describe the practice became more widely used in the 1960s. Before then, such relationships, particularly before World War II, were often called “lavender marriages.”

In Hollywood, bearding became almost normalized beginning in the 1920s, when studios began including morality clauses in the contracts they presented actors. In the 1930s and 40s, censors under the Motion Picture Production Code—also known as the Hays Code—kept a so-called “Doom Book” of 117 names of Hollywood figures whose private lives were “contrary to public morals” and therefore should be blackballed from working in Hollywood. Some gay actors and actresses responded by either self-initiating a bearding relationship or having one arranged for them by the studio to which they were contracted.

For example, then-Hollywood heartthrob Rock Hudson, hearing that Confidential magazine was planning to expose his homosexuality, married his agent’s secretary as a cover in 1955 (she herself is rumored to have been a lesbian). When Hudson dated Lee Garlington from 1962 to 1965, they would go together to red carpet premiers, but each had to bring their own dates to avoid public scrutiny. Hudson was only outed to the public after his death of AID-related complications in 1985.

In a 2011 interview with Joy Behar, Betty White implied she occasionally bearded for the flamboyantly gay Liberace. Liberace, who never publicly admitted to being gay, in 1954 announced his engagement to actress Joanne Rio, but they never ended up marrying.

While most people are aware of at least some Hollywood bearding efforts, the public is probably less aware of efforts by lesbians in Hollywood to hide their sexuality than gay men. Although not exactly a “bearding” situation, Rosie O’Donnell’s self-professed infatuation for Tom Cruise in the mid-90s on “The Rosie O’Donnell Show” helped mask her homosexuality from the stay at home mom crowd that formed the bulk of her viewership.

In 2016, actor Johnathon Schaech discussed in a Reddit interview taking Ellen DeGeneres on dates at the request of their shared manager because Ellen was scared no one would watch her show if it came out that she was lesbian.

Country singer Chely Wright dated fellow singer Brad Paisley in the early 2000s even though she’d just moved in with her female partner partially to use him as a beard and partially because of a belief that she’d have to settle into an unfulfilling heterosexual relationship to fill societal expectations.

But does bearding in Hollywood continue in this decade? Yes, although the participants are unlikely to admit it until years later at best. Although the Hays Code was replaced in 1968 and gay marriage has been legal since 2015, the drivers behind an individual choosing to beard (avoiding public scrutiny that would result in blackballing/loss of income, fear of rejection by family and friends, etc.) remain.

In 2013, Ellen Page filmed “The East” with Alexander Skarsgard. In June 2013, director Zal Batmanglij posted a picture of the two on Twitter, and as the UK’s Daily Mail describes it, “Cuddling up to each other as they kicked back in a San Francisco park, the Swedish actor could be seen planting a tender kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek as she reclined happily in his arms.” According to other press reports, the two had been “dating for almost a year,” with some going to the extent of reporting that they were already expecting their first child.

Unnamed representatives for both sides denied the two were dating at the time, and Page has not admitted to bearding specifically (though she admitted, “I’m tired of hiding. And I’m tired of lying by omission.”), but nevertheless, the picture certainly did not look platonic, and Page indirectly benefited from speculation that they were dating because it diverted attention from her sexual orientation before she came out publicly in February 2014.

Although Americans are more likely to be familiar with bearding by gay men (skepticism at “American Idol” singer Clay Aiken’s protestations of heterosexuality greatly exceeded credulity about them), rumors about Oprah being in a secret relationship with Gayle King and, to a much lesser extent, Dolly Parton and Judy Ogle, have shown astonishing resiliency over decades, suggesting that at least some Americans understand that some celebrity lesbians (if not actually Oprah and Dolly) still feel a need to remain closeted.

Historically, it is difficult to pinpoint whether relationships have been bearding relationships, because of the theory of fluidity in human sexuality.  For example, the singer Ricky Martin came out in 2010 as gay, but does that mean the women he dated in the 1990s were beards? Only they know. In January 2016, Rick told Mexican magazine Fama! that he likes both men and women.

Many people have claimed that Whitney Houston once dated her best friend Robyn Crawford, and her ex-husband Bobby Brown himself in his 2008 autobiography implied that Houston had used him as a beard to avoid speculation about her sexuality, but only Houston knew the full truth. Conversely, Sarah Paulson had only dated men before embarking on a relationship with actress Cherry Jones and then Holland Taylor, but as she identifies as bisexual, there’s no reason to believe her previous male partners, including playwright Tracy Letts, to whom she was engaged, were beards. Overall, often the public only finds out about a true bearding relationship retrospectively, after the individual comes out (or in some cases, dies).

One obvious but loaded question that follows from the continued practice of bearding is should lesbian actresses who are worried about their careers beard, or should they simply refuse to discuss their personal lives? The answer to that question is for another article.

The Secret Gay Life of Hollywood

Written by Yasmin Element. Posted in FUSE Features

 https://www.fusemagazine.com.au/index.php/articles/fuse-features/68-the-secret-gay-life-of-hollywood

Flashback! The Hollywood film industry has always had a high percentage of gay and lesbian employees, drawn to the theatre as a world of creativity, open mindedness and experimentation. Yet the hypocrisy is that as gay as Hollywood was (and is), actors have had to pretend that it isn’t.

Hollywood has a history where it welcomes and nurtures gay and lesbian lifestyle behind the scenes but has often gone to great pains to keep its queer little secret from the heterosexual viewing public. It all started during the early days of motion pictures. During the sexual revolution of 1920s there was ambivalence around gender roles and this was reflected in popular movies with icons like Valentino and Marlene Dietrich. But eventually the media started to make fun of these gender-bending characters. The very handsome Valentino (pictured below) held a number of public boxing matches to affirm his masculinity after the media named him the “pink powder puff”. Sadly it was wounds from one of these fights that ultimately lead to his death at only 31-years-old. At the time of his death he was romantically involved with

Leading man, Billy Haines was caught cavorting with a sailor at a downtown YMCA by police. His agent fired him and his acting career was over. This and a number of other sex scandals were exploited by the media and became the early days of the now rampant celebrity gossip columns. Needless to say it led the public to believe that there was a certain immorality in Hollywood and there was a public backlash.

In the 1950s the moral code became even stricter and gay actors and actresses lived in a culture of fear. Rock Hudson was one of the biggest stars of the time yet his homosexuality was concealed by the arranged marriage to his secretary. The marriage was short lived but Hudson’s sexuality and long term relationship with fellow actor Marc Christian was kept secret until his public announcement that he had contracted AIDS in the mid 1980s. Other big stars of the era rumoured to be gay or bisexual include: Cary Grant — who lived with fellow actor Randolph Scott for twelve years but repeatedly denied that they were a couple, even though many of the photographs depicting Scott and Grant at home and at play seem to obviously convey otherwise; James Dean — who has been linked with a number of gentlemen; and Joan Crawford — who loved women and allegedly even had a one night stand with Marilyn Monroe.

Women’s groups and religious groups warned Hollywood to clean up its act which led to the first cinematic classifications guidelines in 1933. These self regulated dos and don’ts were particularly harsh on sexuality, and especially homosexuality. The 1930s were the golden age of Hollywood and the birth of the STAR... but the fans were not getting the whole story. Studio contracts meant that a lot of money was riding on a particular actor’s reputation and damage control became de rigueur for agents who basically had complete control over celebrities lives. The stars were under very strict morals contracts that defined the way they dressed, how they behaved and of course who they dated. If they misbehaved they could be fined or put on suspension or, worst of all, be fired. The androgynous actors of the past were replaced by ultra masculine actors and feminine female leads. But of course this in no way reflected their actual sexual persuasion. So to enforce their public heterosexual image, studios conducted elaborate arranged “lavender” marriages for gay actors — the classic example being Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Salem, whose false union was mutually beneficial for concealing both actors true sexuality.

Surprisingly, the sexual liberation of the 1960s and 70s had little effect on the secretive nature of Hollywood. Although films like Midnight Cowboy began to push the sexual envelope and homosexuality as a subject began to appear in movies, it was still a big no-no for any actor to actually be gay.

And not much has changed today. With all the gay themed movies, popular gay characters and even a handful of out actors around, Hollywood still operates the same way with many actors and actresses questionable sexuality splashed across the tabloids like it was a bad thing. And sadly it does genuinely seem to affect their careers.

When Pee Wee Herman’s Paul Ruebens was busted by cops taking things into his own hands in a gay porn cinema, his career was over. But when leading British heartthrob, Hugh Grant was caught cheating on his girlfriend Elizabeth Hurley with cheap street-hooker, Divine Brown, it not only didn’t lower his popularity but it actually quashed those hushed gay rumours and cemented his image as a ladies’ man. The message here is clear: career-wise, it’s much better to have a straight sex scandal than a gay sex scandal.

Apparently the majority hetero viewing public need to be able to relate to their leading men and women and need to believe on some level that they could be romantically involved with them — even though the chances of that are virtually nought, no matter what their sexual preference. The irony is that there are now many gay characters in films. Yet strangely, whereas thirty years ago a straight actor would be risking his career playing a gay role, it is now considered a benchmark of their talent and almost guarantees them an Oscar nomination.

But sadly for openly gay actors like Rupert Everett and Ellen DeGeneres, their repertoire is limited. It’s ok for a straight man to play a gay role but it’s not ok for a gay man to play a straight role. Tom Hanks cast in Philadelphia made the audience feel comfortable with the subject matter — but Anne Heche in a romance with Harrison Ford in Six Days and Seven Nights? Forget it! The theory is still that actors will alienate their audience if they are gay and it will cut box office takings in half. It’s like how they used to paint up white actors and hire them to play coloured roles, but now we find that un-pc. Will we someday think heterosexual actors playing gay characters is un-pc? And will the heterosexual audience ever be enlightened enough to cope with gays playing straight roles? Until that shift in consciousness occurs, most gay and lesbian actors will remain in the closet. Things can go on behind closed doors but the Hollywood establishment will do everything they can to see to it that the real facts about Hollywood never become so public that they will affect the business of Hollywood.

[split-n-splice]

"Her reputation going sour was no secret." – a line of interest from Ch1 of The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie. ;3 Just throwin’ that out there. Also! A definite nod to the cupcakery here, because headcanon: those recipes were taken from Drakken’s cookbook. Also headcanon: Drakken likes baking, fite me. This makes sense to me since Ron likes baking, and since Drakken’s shown interest in recipes.

Edited by @gogofordrakgo ♥ (ohlawd thnx for putting up w/ me)

[Chapter Guide]

7. Enabler – 4

As his first day alone in more than two weeks wore on, Dr. Drakken became increasingly aware he was off his game.

He haphazardly wrapped up the order of power staves and shipped them off to free up his schedule. Even left with a surplus of free time on his hands, left in the total privacy of his lab with no one to hover and no distracting upgrades to personalized combat gear to win himself brownie points, he made very little headway on his drones.

He managed to get one robot up and running, so to speak, but commands that seemed so simple like stand and walk just didn’t compute. Yet the buggy self-aware machine managed to rise on its own accord and point to the unassembled duplicates strewn about in a thousand different pieces on his worktable. Worst of all, the bare-bones robot began chanting, “sisters, sisters, sisters,” incessantly until something Drakken said or did caused its head to snap his direction. Preservation activated and an artificial fight or flight drive tripped, unfortunately geared toward fight. The skeletal droid abruptly announced him a threat to the sisters and lurched into action. Lucky for him, there was still a plug to pull.

He could have used some assistance in disabling the mutinous drone, but he managed on his own, as he always had. He shut down the project for the day to tend to a swollen lip received in the collision of steel knuckles and his face.

Back in his quarters, he couldn’t help casting glances to the phone, itching to dial – to dial someone. Anyone. He knew exactly who he wanted to ring up and give an earful to, but he clenched his fists and stamped a foot and grunted to himself as he stalked away from the landline. He had a headache and didn’t need to deal with her attitude now anyway.

Solitude was still disheartening. If he had expected a call from the runaway that evening to update him of her progress or lack thereof, or even to say goodnight or make small talk or anything at all, then he was sorely disappointed.

Drakken knew she wouldn’t have approved – in fact he was certain she would have been furious with him if she’d known – but he’d taken the liberty of sending out henchmen to gather intel on the superhuman. Granted, he’d lost those resourceful fellows, who’d only just returned from the assignment with their haul a day before getting the axe.

As Drakken lugged the overflowing box out of the storage room the next day, he reasoned with himself that he deserved to know who he’d been harboring, especially if he planned to continue to do so. He’d been just a little too wary to touch the box before, lest she pop up behind him to catch him red handed.

He deposited it on his coffee table and locked the door to his quarters for good measure, just in case the woman returned and came barging in at an especially undesirable time.

An abundance of manila folders stuffed with news articles topped the box, and if the men hadn’t already been fired, Drakken might have tipped whoever was responsible for courteously ordering the articles by date, even if he’d nearly scattered them as he unthinkingly tossed them aside while rummaging. VHS and cassette tapes at the bottom of the box made up the other half of the heft. Infiltrating a Global Justice base to steal her official records had been asking too much of the henchman, but an excess of media coverage to expose her would have to be good enough.

With the Bebe bots a bust and a woman who wasn’t even present distracting him still, Drakken settled in to squander his day reading what the sacked henchmen had scrounged up. He could spend an entire week reviewing her hero streak, reading the articles and watching the news reports or listening to interviews on tape, but he elected to skim through the past the four years worth of clippings, pulling out a folder from the bottom of the stack to begin.

A few nights ago, at three in the morning, he had been woken by the girl slamming his “front” door and stalking to his kitchen, the green embers glittering over her skin burning off perspiration and nearly setting her pajamas ablaze. She forwent a glass and drank straight from the faucet before hanging over his sink to hold her head under the stream of water, cursing about a comet. She’d looked just a little too unstable for him to hazard questioning her then, and had returned to his room to let her raid his kitchen for a midnight snack in peace.

So Dr. Drakken wasn’t altogether surprised when the earliest scant news coverage regarded a chip off a comet that had struck down in the suburbs of Go City. It had come so fast and so sudden that there had only been a couple blurry shots of the meteorite’s decent and recovery to accompany the articles. That it hadn’t left a bigger crater or caused fatalities was a mystery, but there was no mention of five quarantined adolescents caught up in the catastrophe either, so a cover-up wasn’t improbable.

Within the year, a trio of teenagers in uniform were garnering admiration of the general populace with their heroic feats. Front-page photos of a distantly familiar girl with her hair still short and boyish beside defeated villains bound up and posed with like trophies, frequently smiling smugly for the camera, should have been enough to make any villain in his right mind reconsider taking her in. Drakken wanted to believe he knew her better than that – that she wasn’t the vigilante she claimed she never wanted to be, and that there was no chance she might be on her way back to his lair with her teammates to hand his ass to him at any moment – but it wasn’t so easy.

Guiltily, he came realize that maybe she hadn’t been pulling his leg about her piloting capability after all when he found a clipping from last fall, featuring a photograph of a far more recognizable woman in uniform along with two young men like her in front of a jet as colorful as their suits, which had been generously donated to them by Global Justice. The Go Tower constructed in the bay a year earlier served as a monument and a base, and Dr. Drakken would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious that some superhuman youths had it all handed to them on a silver platter just for swearing an oath to use their gifts for good.

The set of gloves he’d fashioned paled in comparison to the extravagant gifts from Global Justice and Go City. Clearly, giving her things was no way to win her allegiance, because the girl’s hero career had been short-lived. She’d served little more than three years. If she’d only abided by their rules, she could have been living it up, yet she’d formally quit her team months ago.

As of this year, there was a marked change in the tone of the headers. There was less and less praise to be found, until there was next to none at all. If he’d been hoping to find reassurance she was genuinely a bad seed, he got it, though snooping made him feel worse with each article he skimmed over.

Nasty gossip sprung up like weeds. Disbelief and speculation aplenty could be found in clippings from newspapers and magazines as to why she’d abandoned her occupation as a beloved hero. The supply of libel following her resignation was endless. If he had to guess, serving under Global Justice had kept such publications suppressed before, but she’d lost that perk when she put her foot down on doing their bidding.

Blasting scandalous, one popular rumor circulated that she’d withdrawn because she was a typical case of irresponsible teen pregnancy, such negligence marking her unfit to be a role model any longer. That she was still occasionally seen in uniform despite her quitting should have proven she wasn’t expecting – but instead it inspired ridicule and controversy over endangerment and abortion. There was no wining on that front without a good lawyer, which he doubted the girl behind the mask could afford without Global Justice’s charity.

That lost traction when the former hero lashed out at a news reporter on live television. Written accounts played it off as if it had been unprovoked, but Dr. Drakken found a tape on the incident at the bottom of the box that proved otherwise. He was hesitant to hit play on the copy of the broadcast. The masked young woman trying to escape a bombardment of questions was hard to watch as she was confronted by the press with the matter of substance abuse, among other things, all because marijuana was said to be smelled on her clothes. Once detox was mentioned, the cornered superhuman – disheveled and fresh out of an unsanctioned battle – lost her cool and attacked the reporter outright. It was all caught on camera until she was swept away screaming profanities by her gorilla of a brother.

Less than a month later, paparazzi spotted her outside of her hero attire, a familiar ponytail and mismatched boots enough to give her away. It was bad enough she was recognized without her uniform and mask, but she was caught smoking with some punks on a school campus. The snapshot was fuzzy, and there was no way to distinguish what was probably only a cigarette from anything else, but nevertheless it brought an impending graduation into question.

It did not help when some wacked-out addict, an unreliable source if there ever was one, came forward claiming to have taught her the art of cooking meth. The junkie was later found battered and left on the steps of a rehab center. Her signature plasma burns left on the man sparked ever more gossip as to her changing demeanor and bad habits.

On the hero scene, Shego had been golden – but after quitting, the press wasted no time in tarnishing her reputation. Her worsening temper and foul mouth didn’t help the backlash. Her name had been drug through the mud over the past six months, with only a few gems of praise from faithful groupies to be found among the stack of slander.

Dr. Drakken wouldn’t be surprised if it was all true, even the conspiracy theories mixed in about her being from another planet.

"This is why I don't like the hero scene. Everyone knows everything," she’d told him the night he’d found her wandering down a highway in the dark. He hadn’t had much to lose that night when he went with a gut feeling and sprung the proposition on the downtrodden young woman, but whether or not it was the right decision remained to be seen.

Given the stress of the media hounding her every move, both on and off duty, and the family turmoil he’d witnessed from a distance, Dr. Drakken had to bottle his pity for how discontent the runaway must have been to actually jump in a car with an utter stranger and just go.

Before the guilt of prying could get to him too badly, he called it quits and stuffed everything back into the box, double-checking the VCR to be sure he didn’t forget anything she might find later. She’d made it explicitly clear she didn’t want him digging into her past. Even if the box contained publicly available media – for the most part – going through it left a bad taste in his mouth, as if he’d been reading her diary.

Despite the evidence he had that she was indeed a bad apple with a slim chance of returning to her old life, it still felt unwise to put everything on the line for an ex-hero that could easily thwart his plans from the inside. Drakken sat back and shut his eyes, straining to take her words to heart no matter how difficult it was to do so.

“Trust her,” he snorted. “Trust her to what? Bring her brothers to my doorstep?”

But then, he supposed she could have done that already. If she’d wanted to stop him before he could become a major threat, she could have cornered him back in Go City, when she had her team close by to back her up. And even once she was in the lair, she’d had ample time to call in the hounds, and plenty of opportunity to hack into his computers to uncover any master plans, yet she hadn’t busted him yet.

Drakken slumped with his head thrown back over the spine of the couch, stewing a short while on how trustworthy this new partner of his really was, before tuning in to Go City broadcasts to watch the news. She’d only been gone about thirty hours, but he still waited with the bleak expectation to hear some breaking news announcement of her return to the metropolis, anticipating it to be a reason to rejoice. None came, but it still served to worry him.

Leaving the television on, he gave it just a little longer as his stomach drew him toward his kitchen. He’d never had breakfast. He wasn’t even sure if he’d had dinner yesterday. The phone drew his eye though, and he forcibly looked away from it and to the fridge as he took inventory. It was getting a tad late to start on any lab projects, and he could still taste a sore reminder of yesterday’s mishap on his lip.

A check through his cookbook and he found himself gravitating back toward the phone once again. He grudgingly made a call, although it wasn’t the number his fingers itched to dial, and greeted his mother with a weary, “Hello,” and waited for the next half hour for the woman’s exuberance to die down enough to get a word in edgewise.

“That one?” chirped his mother. “Honey, are you feeling alright?”

Drakken blinked and sucked on his split lip. “Relatively speaking,” he slipped. He fished out his notebook and spread it open, eager to get the call over with. “Um. The market will be closing soon,” he lied. “So can I get that recipe?”

“Only if you call me later to tell me how they turn out,” the woman haggled haughtily.

“I’ve made devil’s food before, mother,” he sighed, drumming his pen on the pad. He noticed the pages of memos on the recent gloves and flipped to a fresh page with a small snort.

“Not with my recipe, you haven’t,” chided the woman, and proceeded to let him in on the family secrets in detail. Word for word, he copied down the recipe she knew by heart, running the instructions and ingredients by her once before thanking his mother and heading out the door.

By midnight, a sweet tooth had been satisfied, but sitting alone at the counter with a warm devil’s food muffin drizzled with chocolate ganache just brought his awareness to a weird sort of cavity he wasn’t unfamiliar with but had been successful in ignoring for years – until now, apparently.

He decided he’d have to tell his mother about the muffins tomorrow. It was late, and if he dared pick up the phone now, he might dial the wrong number accidentally on purpose.

The third day alone wasn’t any more productive than the last, but at least he didn’t spend it holed up in his quarters gorging on muffins. True, he’d slept through his alarm, but he gave himself the excuse that it was Sunday, and he’d spent the latter half of his night lying wide awake staring at his ceiling in a vain effort to get some shut eye.

He could tell himself all he wanted that fresh air would do him some good, but it was a lie. Testing out a back-burner product on new targets the henchmen had been tasked to whip up did little to improve his mood. The vaporizing rifle prototype did its job fine, obliterating the targets, though the sight was off and it really needed work to fix an issue of kickback that just about dislocated his shoulder.

Other than taking down a couple memos to be sure he did that, he didn’t make any progress to speak of on his projects. The random destruction of dummies and henchmen fearing they’d be the next targets did little to inspire him and get his head back in the game.

He knew exactly who to blame for it, too. Little ol’ her was a troublesome woman. Though he wasn’t sure if he was worried for her wellbeing – maybe a little, but maybe not – he was certainly stressed enough worrying about the potential consequences letting her go could have. The thorn in his side wasn’t even here and she had him more distracted and frazzled than ever.

Drakken shoved the elaborate rifle into the hands of the henchman on standby and ordered him to return the contraption to the closet, but the henchman didn’t march off immediately, and instead asked something as daringly out of line and ludicrous as, “Rough breakup?” Which sent Drakken reeling as if he’d been cut, and he vehemently ordered the goon to get a move on if he didn’t want to be booted along with the rest.

He ate another damn muffin for lunch, knowing damn well the sweet confection wouldn’t improve his bitter mood.

When the phone rang, he was all too quick to dive for it. Answering was a mistake, and he struggled with the balance of taking bites of savory chocolate and holding a conversation with his nosy mother. She accused him of being upset and went through a list of every likely reason why, and he denied every possibility. If the nagging didn’t alleviate the loneliness somewhat, he would have hung up.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” his mother finally guessed, and Drakken had to bite his tongue and hold the phone out lest she hear his weary groan. No matter how wildly far off the mark she was, it was an inevitable question she always fired off at some point – only this time, maybe for the first time in history, she was actually right. Sort of. But he sure wasn’t going to admit that.

“No, mother,” he droned. “It’s just been a rough week,” he assured her for the umpteenth time. It really hadn’t been. Slaving over unique gloves had actually been quite rewarding, the worst part of the week being the part where his car got hijacked and he was left worrying if the new recruit would be friend or foe when she came back, if she came back at all.

After the phone call, he eyed the plate of delectable muffins sitting out on the counter, and decided it best to stow the remaining half dozen of them in the refrigerator out of sight before he could make himself sick.

The next day, Drakken was drilling it into his own head that he didn’t miss having anyone to hover, breathe down his neck, or criticize him as he tinkered with the fine inner workings of a robot brain. If he could only get the droids up and running like half-operational human beings, the Bebes would theoretically fill the human need for company. And even if they didn’t, he still had three organic subordinates – the henchmen – to fall back on. He didn’t need a snarky girl leaning on him and giving him sass trying to get his goat.

His lip was curled at the very thought of someone breaching his personal bubble uninvited when suddenly his subject booted up. It took him a second of staring back at the robot before the Bebe blinked mechanically and he leapt back. What really scared the bejeebers out of him was the fact the android hadn’t even been plugged in to a power source. Before she could fully start up, he reached into the Bebe’s cranium to pull out the CPU to put her to sleep for a nice long while until he was ready to deal with self-aware robots sporting hyperactive preservation drives again. The other two dormant severed heads received the same treatment just to be on the safe side.

His heart was still thudding from the first surprise when he received another unwelcomed jolt.

The room flashed red and a bone-rattling siren buzzed to announce a threat. Either someone had sounded the alarm, something had been tripped, or something malfunctioned. Whatever the case, he was in too much of a foul mood to be pleased by the uncharacteristically swift response of two of his henchmen cutting through the lab with their staves ready.

False alarms were more common than not at this point. There must have been one at least once a month for the past year since establishing his Nevada lair.

Dr. Drakken cast aside his tools and replaced his goggles with his eyeglasses, ready to storm out after the goons to find out what the hullaballoo was all about. It was probably just another unfortunate raccoon stuck in the fence.

Before he could take three steps from his work station, a henchman’s voice crackling over the intercom made him jump once more. “Dr. Drakken, sir, you’re needed outside,” came the urgent summon, and Drakken heard a thunderous snarl booming before the intercom clicked off.

It certainly didn’t sound like snared wildlife.

The insistent siren alone induced a dreadfully unwanted adrenaline rush, urging him to hurry and shut the alarm off at the lab desk. Even without the blaring system that had left his ears ringing, he swore he could still feel a rumble under his feet, and cast a nervous glance upwards at the stalactites holding steady before he exited the lab.

He all but ran down to the garage. The second he opened the door and stomped out from the foyer, he heard the rumble of a jet engine dying down to a whine, and if he didn’t associate the sound with military, he might not be so concerned of the trouble that could be brewing.

The thought that he should have brought a weapon with him was fleeting.

Before he could make it outside to search the sky for the source of the rumble, his jaw dropped.

He wasn’t anticipating a jet to come rolling out of the dark and into the half-lit hangar, the wingspan barely making it through the broad garage door. The flashy new sky beast sported multicolored streaks and bolts, and as it came to a stop in the middle of the scrap-filled warehouse, it dawned on Drakken exactly where it had come from. He’d seen that jet before in a photograph just the other day.

As his men rushed in after the aircraft in the hot wake of the engines, their electrified rods raised in defense, Drakken stormed toward it, his livid glare locked on the single figure onboard.

The top popped and rose with a hiss to reveal the pilot, whose hands were held up in peace for a moment to give the henchmen pause before the intruder pulled off the helmet and mask. The aloof subordinate stood up in the cockpit, shook out her hair, and shot an outrageously smug smirk to Dr. Drakken.

++X++

Shego slid down from the body of the aircraft and didn’t have a chance to appreciate solid ground or even utter a greeting before Dr. Drakken reached her, and she could only stare in a surprised stupor as he raised a hand at her.

Next she was wide-eyed in shock and reaching up for the sting across her cheek. It hadn’t hurt, but it didn’t change the fact he’d slapped her. She was taken aback for a moment. “What was that?” she blurted, turning a sneer back to him. “You hit like a baby!” Honestly, her baby brothers had whopped her worse than that.

And what was that he’d said about the next man to lay a hand on her?

She could get him back later, she decided, because she was pleased to be back regardless of his indiscernible sputtering and tantrum. Though she couldn’t pretend to understand what had his panties in a twist. She’d kept her word, hadn’t she?

What she could do was chortle when the fuming man made a grab for her before he could calm down enough to think twice. It was hard to hold him at fault when he was a villain and had likely conditioned himself to act out, assuming he wasn’t already violent by nature, but she wouldn’t hesitate to teach him not to take out that temper on her if he pushed his luck any further.

Curious if he would however, she let him catch her roughly by the arm. But Drakken faltered once he had her – it was clear he hadn’t expected it to be that easy, or maybe some sense caught up to him – and his moment of surprise made it easy for her to pull her arm away.

Catching him off guard, she slipped behind his back. Her hands snuck up his suit jacket to find the back pockets of his trousers, making him jump. His yelp wasn’t particularly masculine.

“Yoink,” she chirped, making off with his wallet as the startled man swung around.

Shego impishly remained two steps ahead of Dr. Drakken in pursuit of her, purely for the sake of egging him on although he was clearly riled up enough. She stole a gander at his driver’s license as she shuffled backwards. “Andrew?” she snorted. He sputtered something with a note of embarrassment and lunged for it. She jumped back, plucked a twenty from the wallet, and finally surrendered it.

Drakken roughly snatched his wallet back from her outstretched hand, still practically shaking in his tantrum, a funny shade of purple creeping over his face. The indignant doctor barked her name furiously and lurched toward her again, but she leapt back out of reach for good measure.

“Missed me, missed me,” she sang childishly, skipping back and smiling wryly at the hotheaded man.

He wasn’t calming down, none too pleased to be played with. Before she could knock it off on her own accord, Dr. Drakken gnashed his teeth and finally exploded something coherent, “SEIZE HER!”

To which Shego cocked a brow, and before she knew it, she was being restrained and shoved to her knees by a pair of henchmen, her arms twisted and secured behind her back. She knew she could still get the better of them, but she chose not to fight it as she watched suspiciously, once again curious to see just what Dr. Drakken thought he was going to do. She was done playing now though. Did he really think she would accept being slapped and manhandled, just like that? With him glaring as harshly as he was, she had half a mind to spit plasma at him when he stalked up to her.

The mad scientist opened his mouth and raised a finger to lay into her verbally when she sighed heavily and relaxed against the henchmen’s clutches. “Okay,” she began. “So I lost your car, but I got the jet, didn’t I?”

Drakken’s purple-faced humiliation and anger ebbed as he threw a glance back, and his rigid shoulders slumped. She could see his temper cooling he studied the aircraft parked in his garage. She’d stayed true to her word, but it seemed like he was only just now registering that she had in fact brought him a jet.

“Where did you get it?” he quizzed suspiciously as he turned back to eyeball her. Just about anyone else would have received plasma to the face for eyeing her body, but Shego had the funny feeling he was looking less at her figure and more at her pristine new uniform she’d stolen from the Go Tower – although the nature of his stare made it only slightly less unnerving.

“Just something from home,” she said flippantly, fixing a wry smile on her face.

“You stole tech from Global Justice,” he uttered.

“Not really, I mean – it was a gift,” she grumbled, casting her eyes down. That didn’t change the fact that big brother monitored its usage.

Drakken must have realized that, because his eyes shot wide in dismay an instant before the anger from moments ago boiled back to the surface. “They can track it here!” he gasped in alarm as he whirled on the threat in his lair.

Shego, on the other hand, lacked the same fear. The fact she remained unbothered seemed to enough to distress him.

“Cool the engines, Dr. D,” she called nonchalantly before he could fret over how to get a beacon out of his lair. “I squashed a few bugs, snipped a few wires. Give me some credit. I’m not just another stupid thug here.” He looked back to her as she nodded back to the henchmen holding her to make a point, but it hardly calmed him.

She tried to add a smile and a cheery on top, “Oh, and – it can hover. It’s a hover jet. Far out, right?” She was really quite proud of herself, and couldn’t help beaming as she patiently waited to be commended. An order for her release would be nice, at least.

Dr. Drakken stepped back from her and ran a hand down his face. He held it over his mouth and stifled a whine, and Shego noticed he looked almost pained as he glanced back to the stolen mass of technology. “Release her,” he grunted to his men with a dismissive wave, and stalked away to go inspect the aircraft. As Shego crept up carefully behind him, she heard him muttering incredulously to himself, “I can use this. I can really use this.”

“So, uh,” she started, and he flashed a glower back at her over his shoulder. She smiled sheepishly. “Does this make up for taking off and losing your car?” She decided, maybe, he didn’t need to know yet that she’s driven it off a pier and sank it in the ocean in the heat of the moment whilst fleeing the police earlier. She hoped there hadn’t been anything important in it.

Dr. Drakken surveyed her, his brow creased and his expression that of indecision as he considered the loss of his car in return for the multi-million-dollar aircraft. He settled for giving Shego’s shoulder a ginger pat. “I think I’ll keep you,” he said finally.

[winnipegpatty]

leave (get out) finale | s.m. one-shot

Mega Pop Icon Shawn Mendes was recently spotted out on the Toronto club scene. He was seen propped up against friend and former One Direction member, Niall Horan. Mendes didn’t appear to be doing too well for himself, as he stumbled gracelessly down the street with bloodshot eyes and his signature rosy cheeks. Horan, the usual chipper Irishman, didn’t appear much better off.

Mendes hasn’t been seen with long time speculated girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, in weeks, sparking rumor that the flame may have finally died out. Mendes had always been adamant that they were just good friends, but fans never really bought the line.

If Shawn’s latest tweet is anything to go off, it’s not looking too good for him.

Well, he may be lonely, but if Shawn Mendes is finally single again, we can hear the teen screams from here.

shawnonly1998: you mean to tell me someone broke Shawn’s heart? Fists are going to fly.

mendesarmyupdates: Rumors are circulating of Shawn and Y/N Y/L/N’s break up, despite their relationship being only speculation in the first place.

___

It had been three days. Three days and Shawn was falling apart. He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t write, or sing, or even pick up his guitar. He couldn’t live without Y/N. He couldn’t breathe. That’s what it was. That’s what it felt like. Like his lungs were slowly collapsing in on themselves. Like he had to gasp for breath every moment. Each extra moment alive, a silent fight. Or maybe he felt like he was drowning. Like his lungs were actually filling with water, impeding him from breathing, from calling out to Y/N. Stopping him from fighting for her, for them. Stopping him from just explaining the simple truth.

He wasn’t sure what the feeling was exactly. He just knew he couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t live without her.

24 text messages, 13 phone calls, 5 FaceTime calls, and 3 unanswered knocks at her door.

What was he supposed to do, other than what he was about to do. It was a last resort. That’s what she’d pushed him too. Shawn knew she wasn’t at home, the three newspapers at her door told him so. Because yes, she was one of the last people on this god forsaken planet to get newspapers. But Shawn knew her. Knew her like the back of his hand, and he’d go to his grave knowing and memorizing and burning every detail about her into his mind. Because he was crazy for Y/N. And he couldn’t live without her.

Despite being gone frequently, she was all he ever thought about. All he cared about. All that mattered to him. He’d once told an interviewer that he was too in love with his career to focus on anything else. That one day, he’d hoped that he would meet someone who pulled his attention away. Who’d be all he could focus on, because that’s what love should be like. And Y/N did just that. She was it for him. No one else. No one.

Not Camilla. Not the Hungarian bartender, whose name he couldn’t even remember.  And most certainly not Hailey fucking Baldwin.

It was just her. That’s how it had been since the day he met her almost three years ago. He hadn’t been able to see anyone in the room but her. She’d captured his heart and completely taken over his life. He dove in head first and never regretted it for a moment. There wasn’t a single night on tour where he’d wished he’d been single so he could get a fuck. There was never a moment in an interview when he’d wished he could just have easy answers for everything. There wasn’t a swooning fan who could change his heart for Y/N. No fight that could ever change his mind about his decision to choose her. There was no one he would rather have on his arm at an event.

No one he would have rather gone to the Met Gala with.

But that was in the past.

Now, Shawn was in the present. Alone. Living with his fuck ups, and just praying he wasn’t too late. That he hadn’t messed up too much this time.

He stood at the door of Y/N’s mother’s house, just shy of an hour outside of LA. Shawn knew she was here. Knew this was her go to get away. Her place to hide from madness. Shawn knew because he knew her. He knew that she’d be tucked away in her old childhood bedroom under lavender sheets and a black comforter. He knew that her mom would have made her ginger snap cookies the second she came home, knowing something was wrong. He knew all these things because they were important details that came together uniquely to make Y/N.

Shawn knocked on the pristine white door with a shaky hand, not really having a plan to get in the door. He was mostly banking on pity.

After a second knock, the door swung open revealing Y/N’s mother, an unpleasant expression clouding her face. “What can I do for you, Shawn?” she asked stiffly.

“Is she here?” Shawn whispered, not even recognizing his own voice. And when it looked like he might be shut down immediately he begged, “Please, please. I need to see her.”

“She doesn’t want to see you, Shawn.”

All of the unopened texts and missed calls told him as much, but frankly Shawn was past the point of caring. Because the truth was, he was selfish. He needed her for the most basic of human functions. That was his own fault for allowing himself to depend on her, even from a distance. She’d facetime him every night so he could sleep. And if he called, she’d answer. Never once had she not been there for him during an anxiety attack. He hadn’t been alone with his anxiety for almost three years. He didn’t even know what to do without her. There wasn’t life after her, without her. That wasn’t living, not to Shawn.

“Please, I..., you have to know it’s all a misunderstanding. You know me. You know how much I love her. Help me.”

“Shawn, I have to help my daughter.” Y/N’s mom’s tough exterior began to crack as she looked on at the broken boy in front of her. But it was simply out of her control.

Shawn honestly didn’t know if he’d ever felt this distraught before, feeling like his final shot was slipping through his fingers with nothing he could do about it.

Y/N walked towards the front door from the back of the room, “Mom, who’s at the…” she quickly trailed off when she saw Shawn. He could hear the way her breath caught at sight of him, but seconds later her face was expressionless. “You look as shitty as you did in the papers.”

Her mom had taken a few steps back as Y/N approached slowly. Shawn swallowed under her intense gaze. She made some sort of eye contact with her mom that Shawn didn’t really understand, but it resulted in her mom walking away, taking him in with unsure eyes.

“What do you want, Shawn?” She asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Shawn couldn’t tell if the annoyance was true or just a front for emotions similar to the ones he was feeling.

“To talk about the truth.” Shawn begged.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Please Shawn, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Shawn groaned out of frustration, “If you’d just let me explain, nothing would be like this in the first place!”

Through gritted teeth she seethed, “Thoughts you should have had before you didn’t explain it to me when it happened.”

“God, Y/N, shut up!” Shawn fumed.

Her eyes blew wide, clearly not expecting Shawn to yell at her. She slowly stepped through the door, to meet Shawn on the other side of the frame, closing the door behind her. She was caging in their conversation, forcing them to stay outside, rather than inviting him in. It told him she intended to be brief. It made it less intimate, detached.

“You have two minutes. And no more, before I drop your ass and forget about the last two and a half years of my life with you.” It was then that Shawn knew with absolute certainty that the annoyance wasn’t real but was in fact walls. Walls shooting up from the ground, trying to protect Y/N from catastrophic damage. It was her, slowly switching off emotions. Colorful memories full of love, happiness, joy, excitement, dimming to nothing but black. It was her forcing herself to forget what she loved about him, just so she could survive in the days to come without him.

“Well first, you have to know that I never wanted to go to the gala with her in the first place. She contacted Andrew about bringing me with her as her plus one. And Andrew thought it would be a good outing since I hadn’t really been seen with anyone recently.”

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes at that.

“Anyway, Hailey reached out to me personally after I told Andrew I didn’t want to do it. She said she’d been with Justin previously but in most recent Justin Bieber fuck up move, he’d broke it off with her. And she told me, well really asked me...if I’d go with her to hopefully get a rise out of him. I didn’t really want to do it, but Hailey and I have been friends for a couple of years now. You know that,” Shawn looked at her desperately. “And I just figured that you wouldn’t really care because you’ve never cared before if I go out with someone for the cameras. You’ve always known it was just you.” Shawn sighed, “Or I mean, I thought you knew. I never thought I gave you a reason to believe anything else.” He tugged at the back of his hair, “But then Justin put out that song and took a fucking stab at me...and it pissed me off. It wasn’t even real, but it made me so angry, Y/N. That he thought he was better than me...that he was more worth someone’s time than me. He’s an asshole, eh? And so when Rolling Stones asked about it...I lied. I lied and I said it was something that it completely wasn’t, just to try and cut a little deeper into Justin’s wounds. Which was wrong and childish, but that’s what I did. And I,” Shawn paused before finally whispering, “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you that.”

Y/N stood staring at him while he stared back, walls still firmly in place.

They stood there, staring, in silence. Neither one budging, neither one moving.

“Please believe me,” Shawn finally whispered almost inaudible. He blindly reached towards Y/N, tangling his hands in her hair, a source of comfort for him. And she let him. She actually let him. She didn’t pull away or flinch. She just stood there, accepting his touch.

“Please,” he choked out. “I can’t…” He was about to start crying. He could feel the prickling sensation in his eyes, “I can’t live without you, Y/N.”

He gently tugged her closer to his body, until her head came flush with his chest. She was a good six inches shorter than him, and it was the perfect size for him. She stuttered out a broken breath, but otherwise remained unmoving and silent.

“Do ya?” Shawn whispered quietly, “Do you think about me?” Shawn felt Y/N straight underneath him. “And, do ya?” His whisper turning into a soft careening sweet sound in her ears, “Do you feel the same way, babe? And do ya?” His voice cracked. “Do you remember how it felt? Cus I do….” Shawn felt the first tear run down his face and land somewhere below his chin, “So listen to me baby.”

He wrote the song years ago, one of the first songs he’d ever wrote for Y/N. When she’d completely stolen his heart, but he was waiting out in this weird limbo phase not sure how she felt. It was a scary moment when he’d realized he might just have fallen in love with someone who could have not cared for him at all. And releasing the song had him shitting bricks, but he’d eventually been able to tell her. To ask her, “Do I ever cross your mind?”

In his arms, now, Y/N began shaking, and Shawn felt the walls tumbling to the ground almost as if they were physically there collecting at his feet.

She looked up at him, looking completely broken and yet whole at the same time. “Don’t cry...or do. Whatever makes you comfortable. I’m tired too, there’s nothing left to say. Let’s call a truce.”

Shawn almost laughed, almost. It was more a breathy cough. And something rumbled around in his chest, making himself feel a little bit more free.

“Don’t ever do it again, Shawn.” She finally said all goofing aside, all romantic lyric professing truces and declarations gone. Left only, was the hard truth. That this had been his last chance. He can’t mess it up again or she’d be gone forever.

Shawn only nodded, before dipping low to kiss her lips softly, murmuring sweet ‘I love you’s’ to her. And ‘it’s only you, always been you.’ And ‘no one else for me, baby.’ Everything he could possibly think of to make her understand just how fucking stupid he knew he’d been to possibly ruin it.

“Just don’t make me leave,” Shawn finally said.

“Never wanted you to, anyway,” she finally mumbled into his chest.

tagging: @fourtristattoos @rosecth @peacedolantwins2 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @baefrombombay @sinceweremutual @justjustyncase @atlas-of-a-human-soul @matchamendes @ourlittleshawnie @mutuallynotmutual

[artificialqueens]

sometimes a fantasy [is all you need] (branjie) -- frenchy

a/n: hi hello!! i’m frenchy, & this is my first fic on here, despite being a longtime reader!! i sent an ask addressing my inspiration to write a branjie get-back-together fic, where they are hiding their still existing feelings behind a pr stunt/their social media interactions & fall back together through these/acknowledge that it’s deeper than they are pretending. it seemed to interest quite a few people so here she is!! this can be read as a long one shot, but considering how much content they are providing us with, i may continue it?? maybe!

ps. this does not include all the things they’ve posted thus far, but i will definitely try to include most of what we’ve seen so far as references/plot points in future parts if i continue this! ! this takes place while the show is airing, beginning action-wise after episode 4’s airing. it heavily involves the video with branjie that nina west posted on her instagram a few days ago! also, i am not giving into the assumption that they are actually broken up, but in the context of this fic, those rumors are true! okay that is enough, i am super excited about this, i hope you all enjoy ahhh!! <3

@Bhytes1: Hey Papi

@VanessaVanjie: @Bhytes1 What

*****

It had begun innocently enough.

Or, at least, that’s what the both of them would claim if ever asked about it. A tweet or two there, a cryptic emoji-strung comment here, and a handful of tooth-rotting gif interactions. It was almost rare for a day to pass without at least once mentioning of each other through social media, whether direct or not.

Brooke Lynn recognized the necessity for this. They both did. That’s why they were doing it.

They hadn’t necessarily discussed the inevitability of fans indulging in their on-screen romance, but there was an unspoken agreement between them, as well as with their fellow RuGirls. No one would bring up their current relationship status, and all would remain playful – that’s how fanservice worked, after all. Give the fans what they wanted, to ensure they would stay in tow. It reaped many a benefit not only for the show’s ratings, but for the queens involved. The season was only a few episodes deep, and already the interest in Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had spiked – both as a duo, and as individual performers. Brooke liked to believe it was her own doing that attracted so many new fans at such an early stage, though she had to give some credit to her more widely known castmate.

Still, as harmless as it posed to be, it didn’t take long for them to be accused of insincerity. A dozen tweets couldn’t change the fact that they were no longer together, that their relationship had ended before the season had even begun airing. They knew it, their fellow queens knew it – hell, half the fans knew it, even if they had not disclosed it officially. The fandom they found themselves thrust into wasn’t one unknown for spreading gossip and spoilers. The breakup had gone smoothly for the most part, at least when concerned with the public eye. It had been a quick discussion, albeit a tense one: was it smart to remain together when their lives were about to be changed? The two of them were self-aware and smart enough to recognize that their personal growth required separation. That the glorification of their growing relationship on TV would only put a strain on what they had in the present. Neither of them wanted to risk the prospect of resentment.

But they were being proven wrong, day by day. They talked and responded to each other every day, typically without any push from outside sources. They found themselves going from simply answering questions about each other and acknowledging fan reactions, to seeking out each other, interacting with no prompting. It was for the fans, yes, but Brooke never sensed any tension between the two of them. Maybe she was misinterpreting, but she and Vanessa seemed to do the whole “indulging the fans” thing flawlessly. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

And that’s what led them to where they were tonight, in a small office at REBAR Chelsea, too many people for too small a room. The music was almost deafening outside the walls, but was no match for the voices in said room. Specifically, Vanessa. Loud, brazen Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, in a glittery upside-down jersey dress, off her shoulders, her makeup freshly set and her adrenaline pumping even before having stepped out onstage for the night. She had been meticulously placing her blonde wig on her head in the mirror, making an effort to chime in more-than-occasionally to the conversation Nina West found herself deep in with a friend, despite being across the room. Brooke opted to sit in the corner, scrolling through her phone, Vanessa being the sole one of the three of them in drag for the night.

“More than iconic, really. The fans love it,” Nina’s friend had said, prompting Brooke to glance towards them. She hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said, though the mention of fans always peaked her interest. “Definitely need a recreation of that iconic moment at the reunion.”

“Iconic moment?” Brooke asked through a growing smile, interrupting, causing heads to turn towards the new voice contributing to the conversation. Nina laughed, with a hint of hesitation, turning her body fully to face Brooke, still sat in the corner of the seemingly-shrinking room.

She nodded enthusiastically, eyebrows up. “Untucked. Y’know how funny everyone found my reaction to you and Vanessa?” Nina clarified, gesturing towards the mentioned queen, who glanced at them through the reflection of the body-length mirror, still messing with her wig.

Brooke made a noise of understanding. “They live for their memes, bitch,” she answered. Naturally, she had seen the uproar that the last Untucked had caused, specifically when concerned with Nina’s shock towards the kiss. Brooke heard Vanessa laugh under her breath, accompanied by a curt nod signifying her agreement to Brooke’s statement.

“It’s crazy,” Nina nodded as well, proceeding to take a sip from the glass of water she held tightly in her right hand. She was halfway through swallowing when her eyes widened, an excited yet smug smile bringing the conversation back from its natural pause. “Why wait for the reunion? I mean, like, it’s fresh right now! Imagine how funny a recreation would be if we made it right now. We’re all here, aren’t we?” She nodded towards Vanessa before looking back to Brooke.

“So, milk it?”

“You and Vanjie should be pros at that with how you’re playing off this ‘on screen romance’ stuff,” Nina raised her free hand to provide seemingly unnecessary air quotes. Brooke scoffed gently. The romance was real, the follow up was not. It wasn’t, none of the tweets or interactions held any merit. But Brooke almost felt a personal offense at the implication that what they had before was fake, even if she had just misunderstood and Nina didn’t mean it that way. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. “It’ll fare well for the two of you, and it’s all good fun. What’s the consensus?”

There was a moment of tentative silence, a sudden hush. It was unusual for Vanessa to not be bouncing off the walls, her adrenaline from before nowhere to be found. Brooke looked over at her, making quick eye contact with her through the mirror. Vanessa raised a painted eyebrow at her, as if asking – no, suggesting, that it could be a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Could be funny,” Brooke answered for the two of them, her smile returning.

Nina nodded, handing her phone to the woman at her side. “Let’s do it!” She straightened her denim jacket, water still in her hand, posing as a makeshift cocktail. Brooke stood from her seat, clearing her throat and watching as Vanessa finally turned her back to the mirror and faced the rest of them, a smile now adorned and her reluctance from before vanishing at the sight of a camera. The sight brought a certain weakness to Brooke, if only for a moment, just as it had every time she saw that smile. There was nothing different in how Vanessa made her feel still, she could appreciate things like that about her even if they weren’t an item.

“So, what, just kiss? Like in the Untucked?” Brooke made an effort to look away from Vanessa, but it felt like the reluctance Vanjie held was instead transferred to her. It was the same loss of focus she became familiar with during drag race, where even the just the knowledge of Vanessa being in the same room was enough of a distraction. She never complained, though.

“Yeah. Just like in the Untucked,” Nina kept herself at a distance from the other two queens, her body facing the now three people with phone cameras posed at them, others in the room joining in to capture the moment.

Vanessa again quirked an eyebrow at Brooke, who felt herself get uncharacteristically nervous. Why was she nervous? She hoped no one clocked her uneasy breathing, or heard her heartbeat as loudly as she did. She considered herself a good actress, but it was easier being playful and coy through twitter – how does one kiss their ex on camera, casually enough to make it look natural and real, but not too comfortable as to earn speculation from Vanessa herself, who clearly had no problem playing this up in front of the camera. It was certainly a tricky situation they were in. She wondered for a moment if Vanessa was struggling in the same way.

Brooke made a mental note to bring it up someday.

She wondered how long she stood spacing out, due to Vanessa no longer regarding her and instead living her directing fantasy. “You gotta start, like they did – like they did when we did this, you gotta say action,” she was instructing those who were filming, gesturing wildly.

“Ready? Yeah,” the woman nodded along, halfheartedly taking in Vanjie’s words, already having pressed the record button. “Okay ready?”

“Do it now,” Vanessa told her, and Brooke registered the deep breath that Vanessa took moments before they were to kiss.

“Action. Action.”

It was a blur after that – perhaps not in the moment, as she was conscious enough to chime in with a comically over-exaggerated “Did ya’ll see that?” after Nina and Vanessa both quoted it themselves. But when Brooke thought back to the video that ended up attracting attention on Nina’s Instagram later that night, she hardly could recall the details. It was foggy, most of it. Excluding the kiss.

Was she right in calling it a kiss? It was hardly that. A quick peck, reminiscent of the one they were recreating, not even enough for Vanessa’s lipstick to transfer onto Brooke’s unpainted lips. Not even enough to Brooke to over-analyze. Or so she thought.

Nina retrieved her phone as soon as they had finished the reenactment, smiling to herself as she hit play to watch the video. Vanessa quickly joined her to watch it, her smile losing its sincerity as they watched. Brooke remained across the room, attempting to gauge their reactions under the guise of gathering her own bearings, picking her own phone back up from where she had been sitting.

“S’it good? Convincing, too?” Brooke asked after the video had ended, the unasked ‘Too convincing?’ threatening to spill from her lips. She noticed that while Nina appeared overjoyed at the video, laughing to herself and pocketing her phone, Vanessa’s expression offered an air of concern. The look of trouble alone revived Brooke’s anxiety.

“Yeah, no, it’s good. Really good, thanks, guys,” Nina addressed both the ex-couple and those who had recorded the video, each from different angles, though only one would end up on the Ohioan’s Instagram. “I’m going to head out there, good luck up there tonight, girl,” Nina nudged Vanessa, who only gave a halfhearted smile and a quiet ‘Thanks’ in response.

Nina turned to leave, the others all following her, leaving after them a tension that filled the room. The room that only Vanessa and Brooke were left in.

“Hm,” Vanessa returned to her place in front of the mirror, lost in thought and not acknowledging that she wasn’t alone. Brooke sat back down, one hand occupied by her phone and the other fidgeting with the hem of her black blazer. Maybe she was overestimating how long and uncomfortable the silence felt, but Brooke wasn’t so sure it was that crazy of an exaggeration.

“Definitely should help fuel that fire,” Brooke spoke up, choosing to entertain the prospect of discussing the kiss rather than sitting in that loud silence. Vanessa didn’t stop touching up her makeup in the mirror to look at Brooke, just nodded. “Maybe we could post a picture together at some point soon. Is that too much?” Brooke laughed, not sure if her laugh was directed at her own question or Vanjie’s lack of an answer.

After another extended silence, Vanessa suddenly turned around to grab her own phone off the small table in the center of the room. “Let’s do it.”

Brooke was taken aback, needing a second to readjust to Vanessa’s usual volume returning after having been quiet in thought for so long. She watched as Vanessa snapped her fingers expectedly, waiting for Brooke to stand up, plausibly for a selfie.

“What, right now? We can’t post it right now, girl.”

“And why not?” Vanessa countered, her free hand going to her hip. “If we gonna do this, we have to keep feeding the children. We can’t let them go hungry,” she attempted to lighten up the tension in the room that had been there ever since Nina and the others left.

Brooke chuckled deeply, shaking her head. “Not after that video. Give it a week, maybe.” She hoped Vanessa would understand where she was coming from and drop it. She had thought they shared that logic in this situation, in the faux flirting and how it worked PR wise. It was bad to over-saturate this.

“Hmm,” Vanessa repeated from before, evidently unconvinced. She dropped her phone back, heading towards the door. Brooke felt relief ease her anxiety, focusing back on her own phone. 

She didn’t even notice that Vanessa had paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder back at the man out of drag.

“That’s mighty shady of you, Miss Brooke,” the graveness in her voice forced Brooke to look up, making sincere eye contact for the first time that night. “Reeaaaaalll shady.” Vanessa’s tone held a certain hesitance, a caution. She was unique in that way, in the way that she carried herself in private compared to in the public eye. While most minded themselves and grew wary when being watched, in regards to what they say, how they act – she was the opposite. Upon the chaos of the Werk Room, the need to be recognized on national television, Vanessa tended to surrender her control. She was brash, and loud, and unapologetic; she was likable for this.

That wasn’t the Vanessa that stood now before Brooke in the stuffy room.

Brooke raised a single eyebrow, unsure if her growing smirk was welcome. Unsure of whether this was a real dig, or a classic shady Vanjie joke.

“Shady? And, what? You’re innocent in this?”

No longer looking over her shoulder, Vanessa turned fully to face Brooke, her back to the hall. Brooke noted the way her eyes subtly narrowed under her four pairs of stacked lashes, her head cocking with a void of amusement. She didn’t answer or play off of Brooke as she normally would have if this was a lighthearted exchange, instead opting to stay quiet, as if observing Brooke, sizing her up. Her painted eyebrows furrowed with the narrowing of her eyes, though her concentration felt deeper than her simply fabricating another shady comment to hit back with. If she wanted to, she would have already thrown it – she was quick witted enough to bypass usual brainstorming.

When Vanessa cracked a weak smile (albeit it didn’t reach her eyes), Brooke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I never said I was innocent. In any meaning of the word. We both know that,” Vanessa took a step forward, back into the room, her voice knocked down a few volumes, for Brooke to hear only. “Even the fans know that, with some of the things we’ve been tweetin’ and sayin’. Whether they’re real or not,” she added, shrugging.

“They’re not,” Brooke challenged, saying matter-of-factly.

“See, that!” Vanessa laughed, pointing to Brooke. “You betta stop! Stop that, bitch.”

Confused, Brooke glanced Vanessa up and down. “What? Stop what?” She wished she could claim naivety. She knew exactly what Vanessa was saying.

Instead of answering her, Vanessa once again stood before her, looking down at her – not much, as even with Brooke seated and Vanessa in heels, the height difference made it so that they weren’t at an unusually unfair playing field now. She waited for an instant, to see if Brooke would say something. When she didn’t, Vanessa crossed over to sit in the empty chair beside her. Brooke didn’t ask if she sat so close to the edge intentionally, to be as close as possible to the Canadian queen.

That tense psychic feeling was back, but it felt different this time. She just couldn’t point to what changed. Was the whole room engulfed by this feeling, or just the few inches between the two? Regardless, Brooke felt her stomach knot, and had to stop her leg from bouncing in the space between them. If only Vanessa would get to the point. The point Brooke already knew she was making.

“Y’know, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa drew out her words, in a sort of emphatic yet teasing manner, it being uncommon for her to use the second part of Brooke’s drag name unless addressing her by full name. Her gaze dropped, and Brooke instinctively followed it – they both watched as Vanessa’s right hand moved to draw mindless patterns on Brooke’s pant leg, right above the knee. If it weren’t for how close Vanessa’s voice was when she spoke, Brooke could have easily hyper focused on the way Vanessa’s hand traced gently up and down. “At some point we have to quit pretending like this is only for the fans.”

“We talked about this,” Brooke kept her voice solid, despite the way Vanessa dropped her’s to just barely above a whisper. They both looked back up at the same time, although neither one backed off. Brooke could have sworn they were closer than they had been before Vanjie had taken her seat.

“Really?” Vanessa frowned, puzzled. There was a cloud of doubt in her eyes. “Musta been out of it ‘cause I can’t seem to remember us doing that. I think you’re mistaken, Miss Brooke.”

Brooke swallowed, shaking her head weakly, and tried to look away. She trained her eyes to a bulletin board on the wall. She had more than enough time to push the other queen away, or scoot back, or even get up.

She stayed where she was, could feel Vanessa’s eyes on her.

When she realized Brooke was adamant on not entertaining the conversation, Vanessa continued. “So. Tell me, then… What you’re tryna say is that if I were to kiss you right now, with no one around to see it, you’d pull out a camera to take a picture of it? You’d tweet about it? It wouldn’t feel real to you, at all?” She knew what she was doing, she could tell Brooke was trying her hardest not to look at her.

Until she did, her eyes making contact with Vanessa’s again, mere centimeters from her face. “Is that hypothetical?” Brooke’s voice entered into a whisper. She made the mistake of glancing down towards Vanessa’s coated lips. She wasn’t fast enough in fixing her error, as Vanessa had already noticed and consequently did the same, a smirk playing at her lips.

“It don’t gotta be. That one’s up to you,” Vanessa breathed, yet the way she inched impossibly closer said otherwise.

“I–”

Before Brooke could allow the anticipation to drive her crazy, Vanessa’s lips were on her’s.

It was nothing like the kisses they shared on camera, neither drag race or the peck for Nina’s video. It was only the two of them, no pressure or expectation forcing them to maneuver with any caution. The kiss all too similar to the ones they would share after finally finding privacy in between filming, after not having seen each other for a week due to gigs, after spending the weekend together and waking up clinging to each other in the morning. It was all familiarity and comfort, butterflies and giddiness, as their lips moved in a passionate fervor. They didn’t think about posing, or the door to the room being wide open, or mixing nonchalance with playfulness.

Brooke had just released the tension in her body, the reluctance she feigned, when Vanessa broke the kiss.

“Mm?” Brooke blinked, fog passing slowly.

Vanessa moved away from her with a coquettish wink, flipping her wig dramatically over her shoulder that said wig didn’t even reach. “I got a show to do.”

That little fucker, Brooke huffed a laugh with an incredulous shake to her head.

“Maybe a reenactment later?” Vanessa paused again at the door, “Good luck tweetin’ unsuspiciously about that one and not bein’ urged to give me a private phone call after.” And with that, Vanessa vanished around the corner, Brooke not seeing the bashful smile she wore all the way to the stage. And she didn’t know that Brooke wore one to match.

*****

That night, the first thing Brooke saw upon opening Instagram was that damn video. As well as all the reposts and screenshots she had accordingly been tagged in. She prepared herself before playing it, not having seen it yet.

Stopping herself from smiling was out of the question as she watched the fifteen second clip. She watched it more than once, not breaking the natural loop it made whenever it ended.

And if she texted Nina later to send her the video, simply to rewatch the way Vanessa smiled into their kiss, well, she wouldn’t bring that part up.

*****

@Bhytes1: Because everyone loves a dramatic re-enactment

[whimsical-imagination-blog1]

WIP Chapter 1

Please bear with me as this is a first draft! Feedback is welcome!

On a hot summer evening, as the sun sank below the horizon and bathed the world in tones of orange and gold, a man and a woman stood at the border between kingdoms. Behind them, the forest was starting to come alive with the nighttime creatures. Ahead, the grassy hills led to the castle of the royal family, quiet and serene in the distance. 

The man was tall and golden-haired. Although he looked to be in his early 30s, he was decades older. He wore fine, yet unremarkable clothes and carried only a plain sword at his side - nothing to give away who he was or which family he belonged to. The woman was short and plain, wearing a homespun dress and her hair in a braid. She looked older than the man, and was in fact centuries older than he, though the only indication of her age could be found in her eyes. They fixed him with a stare as she presented him with the reason for their meeting.

The woman was silent as she handed over a basket to the man. He did not look at its contents. Without a word, he left the woman standing on the hill, heading into the golden fields, the basket carefully cradled in his arms. The woman watched him go, stony-faced and cold. When he was no longer visible on the horizon, she turned and entered the forest.

The man continued to walk until he reached the gates of the castle. Without a word, the guards allowed him to enter, not questioning what was in the basket. The man continued on into the castle and up the mighty grand staircase, entering the private quarters of the royal family. He set the basket down on a table in his bedchamber, his wife coming to look at what he’d brought. He peeled the blanket concealing its contents back from the top of the basket to reveal a newborn baby sleeping peacefully.

His wife looked first at the baby, then at him with cold, angry eyes. The baby had dark hair and tanned skin. She looked nothing like the fair woman staring at her, nothing like the High Elf father who watched her sleep. The princess made to leave the room, stopping at the door to look back at her husband.

“What have you done?”

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

Seraphine Lateau sunned herself on the rooftop, only removing her arm from where it lay over her eyes every so often to take a swig from the jug of wine that sat next to her. Though she’d been on the rooftop since mid-morning and it was now nearly evening, she wasn’t drunk. No, thanks to her father’s High Elf blood running in her veins, the wine had only served to take the edge off, barely even making her feel slightly tipsy. Sera supposed that wasn’t a bad thing, although she was certainly in the mood to get drunk. If she’d shown up to the state dinner planned for the evening falling all over herself. Elante would’ve had her head. Perhaps worse, Nirya would’ve tried to make her feel guilty. She’d have failed, but the attempt would have resulted in a spectacular alar blow up, and that was the last thing any of them needed.

Nirya was an empath, and one with considerable gifts. When they were children, Nirya could control the emotions of whoever she looked at by making a face at them. Now, at nearly 30 years old, Nirya could read and control the emotions of everyone in the palace if she desired. Even the father the two girls shared wasn’t immune to Nirya’s manipulations. Only Sera could defend herself from Nirya’s powers. She’d discovered at a young age, much to Nirya’s never ending annoyance, that she could ignore the emotions Nirya wanted her to feel, although she was not able to shield her emotions from being read by her sister.

Their father, Ilkay, possessed only a fraction of Nirya’s gifts. It was just enough to keep discontent from spreading through the Mood Lands, as the Mood Princes before him had done for hundreds of centuries. Nirya, though, would be able to do more, or so their father claimed. With her power, she could keep every one of her subjects happy and subservient. If she so desired, she could even conquer other territories and use her power to ensure no bloodshed while doing so. She couldn’t bend the will of the people around her directly, but she could sway them by manipulating their emotions. Nirya herself had never admitted to Sera that she had those kinds of ambitions. To the best of Sera’s knowledge, Nirya intended to use her power only to keep her land peaceful and prosperous. 

The thought of a nation of blindly obedient subjects made Sera a bit queasy. Tomorrow, on her 30th birthday, Nirya would be officially crowned the Prince’s Heir, signaling to the world that she was ready to begin training with her father to take the throne when he eventually stepped down. She wouldn’t actually ascend to the throne for decades still, possibly not even for centuries, but she would become their father’s right hand, begin influencing his policies, making decisions, and generally preparing for the day when she’d rule the kingdom instead. Sera didn’t trust that her father’s ambitions wouldn’t be passed to Nirya, and that one day they might end up in not just a kingdom, but an empire. The coronation made Sera uneasy, not only for what it meant for the kingdom, but because Sera herself wasn’t sure what her place in it would be after tomorrow.

She took another deep drink from the jug at her side and shifted on the rooftop, her boots hanging over the edge. I she had her way, she’d spend the rest of her days doing exactly this. No responsibilities, no one looking after her every move, just days spent lazing in the sun and doing whatever brought her pleasure.

The source of some of that pleasure plopped down on the roof next to her, stealing the jug away and drinking the last few sips. Sera cracked open an eye and glared at the girl who stole her wine. 

“I wasn’t finished with that,” she grumbled.

Astayana grinned back at her, sweeping her curtain of shimmering red-gold hair over her shoulder. “How many of these have you had today, Sera? I’m sure you won’t miss a few drops.”

“Three. And if you had a state dinner to attend tonight, you might disagree.”

“I think all this sun is making you cranky,” Astayana said.

“Perhaps you could do something to cheer me up.” Sera rolled onto her side, propping her head up on a fist.

“We don’t have time for me to properly cheer you up. You’re due back at the palace and I have to get to work.” Astayana didn’t look in too much of a hurry to leave as she lifted her face to the sun, closing her eyes.

“I’d much rather come watch you dance than go back to the palace,” Sera sighed.

“That’s because you’re a lecher hiding behind a pretty face.”

Astayana worked in one of the city’s many dance halls, where patrons could come to see beautiful men and women perform exotic dances. Some of the less reputable halls allowed the anchors to sell other sexual services in addition to the private and public dances for which they were known. Astayana had worked in such a house for awhile, until she grew bored of the rich older patrons touching her body. She’d moved to a more upscale hall, and shortly thereafter, she’d met Sera, though Sera had been in such a drunken stupor that she barely remembered most of that night.

While it wasn’t uncommon for female patrons to frequent the dance halls, it was nearly unheard of for a High Elf to even set foot in the Red District. They preferred to keep their entertainment to their own depraved private parties. The High Elf parties were exclusive events, and rarely spoken of outside of those gated mansions where they occurred, except in speculation and rumor. 

Sera might not have the coloring of a High Elf, but her unnatural height and deep sapphire eyes, both of which she’d inherited from her father, marked her as something other than the faeries, lesser elves, and other creatures who usually watched Astayana dance. She’d picked Sera out of the crowd almost as soon as she’d arrived, drunkenly stumbling onto a plush velvet couch in the back of the hall. Astayana had a keen eye for the patrons who were high-spenders, and she’d spent most of the night prowling around Sera, both keeping an eye on the girl who was nearly too drunk to stand and earning more than she typically earned in a week in tips in the process. She hadn’t wanted to know what Sera had to drink that night, figuring it was either a special High Elf concoction designed to bypass their bodies’ high tolerance for liquor or she’d had more to drink than any High Elf ought to have. Sera had paid well more than was necessary for each of Astayana’s dances, so when she finally passed out on the velvet couch where she sat, Astayana had paid one of the hall’s bouncers to carry her back to her small apartment nearby, not trusting that the other dancers, patrons, or bouncers wouldn’t take advantage of the pretty girl’s state. The two had been fast friends ever since, and over the few years they’d known each other, they were prone to dabble in something more than friendship.

As if reading Sera’s mind, Astayana leaned over and gave her a deep kiss, her full lips pressing firmly to Sera’s own as she cupped the back of her head. Sera’s teeth grazed her lower lip as Astayana pulled back, playfully yanking one of the dark strands that had come loose from Sera’s braid. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

“Better get going before we’re both late,” Astayana said. Sera glanced towards the spread of the palace that pierced the sky in the distance. They were visible from every point in the city, those cleaning, beautiful spires. Her home. Or at least, the place where she usually slept at night.

Sera groaned as she got to her feet, brushing the dust and dirt from the back of her brown leggings. Astayana stood up in a single graceful motion. Sera had inherited none of the High Elves’ unnatural grace and composure, unlike Astayana who practically glowed with it. She sighed and turned to where she’d climbed up onto the roof, Astayana trailing behind her. When her boots hit the dust of the street, she gave her friend a hug.

“I’ll come find you tomorrow night,” she said.

“If you’re still standing after the celebration is over,” Astayana said, a small smile on her pretty lips. She was right - after the ceremony tomorrow, there would be a great celebration, and Sera would likely be so drunk she wouldn’t remember her own name by the end. Most of the High Elves in attendance would be in a similar state.

The girls parted ways, Sera headed towards where the glistening spires of the palace stood in the center of the city. She didn’t bother with a hood to conceal her features as she stalked through the slums on the outskirts of the capitol. She no longer cared if Elante or her father knew where she’d been. No one would bother her in this section of the city. She’d spent enough coin there to have bought the loyalty of the merchants who traded in the market and had been in more than enough brawls to prove that she could handle herself amongst the more unsavory characters lurking nearby.

This was the true heart of the city, she thought as she meandered the dusty streets. Shops and stalls lined the sides, and people rushed in all directions, crowding the streets so thickly that it was a struggle to get anywhere in the middle of the day. Now, nearly time for the evening meal, the crowds had thinned some, making walking far more pleasant than it had been earlier that morning. Down alleyways, lesser elves and faeries had erected makeshift shelters. The stench of unwashed bodies mingled with the smell from the river, coating the area in a thick, unpleasant scent interrupted every so often by the smells of spices and other, more pleasant smells wafting out of some of the stores. 

This was not the High District that surrounded the palace, with its pristine cobblestone streets and carriages to carry the wealthy High Elves who dwelled there. There were no pretty gardens or washed stone houses lining the sidewalks, growing slowly larger and more grand the closer they got to the palace. No, this was indicative of the conditions in which the majority of the populations of the Moon Lands lived. In dirt and felt and squalor. This was where Nirya would have her work cut out for hr in keeping the people happy and peaceful when she finally took the throne. Nirya, like her parents, had never set foot here.

This was where Sera spent most of her time.  Ever since she’d discovered that Elante hated that she came to this part of the city, or really any part of the city that wasn’t the High District, she’d made a point to come here at least daily, knowing that her every move was being reported back to the Moon Prince’s wife. The first time she’d ventured into the Red District, Elante had dragged her before her father to explain herself. Daughters of princes shouldn’t be allowed to run around with the filth, she’d said, sneering at Sera. Even half-breeds like Sera. 

Sera had responded that if she was just a filthy half-breed like Elante thought, she’d fit right in down in the Red District. Elante had actually snarled at that, looking ready to pounce on Sera, but Ilkay had just dismissed them both, giving Sera a stern warning to behave herself and Elante a warning not to bring such trivial matters before him again. Sera’s father’s cold indifference towards everyone except Nirya wasn’t frequently a blessing, but Sera found herself quite happy with the situation as he reprimanded his wife in front of her. Elante had seethed with quiet rage for days afterward, and Sera had found herself banned from several rooms in the palace, including the dining room, for a week. She still thought it was worth it.

But beyond using the slums as a way to irritate Elante, Sera actually enjoyed the atmosphere. There were no simpering courtiers or back-handed compliments. Everyone was more genuine, and with the exception of the palace spies, there was no one who wanted to pry into her business for their own gain. The people worked for what they had and weren’t handed anything, and Sera thought it made them more genuine and likable than any person she’d ever met in the palace. 

Sera neared the Middle District, the band of houses and shops where most of the palace servants and craftsmen lived. The houses here were modest, the streets still unpaved and largely without carriages or horses, but it was clean and less crowded than the outer bands of the city. These were the homes of the working people, lesser elves and faeries who worked for the High Elves or who provided clothing, food, weapons and armor - goods that required a craft or training to create. They, too, were better people than those in the High District, but more prone to spying on each other and reporting back to whoever lined their pockets with information and the activities of the other High Elves. Sera didn’t trust many of them, but as long as they left her alone, she didn’t mind them either.

Her stomach churned, as it usually did, as she reached the High District, every step bringing her closer to the sprawling palace in the center of the city. She hated the pristine houses, the perfectly manicured gardens, the utter quiet of these streets, As she neared the palace gates, squinting against the low sun’s reflection off of the gold gilding and white marble of the palace, the gates swung open to admit her, the guards recognizing her even under the layer of dirt she wore.

She entered the palace through one of the servants entrances and used one of their staircase to get up to her rooms, trying to avoid dirtying the floors they’d no doubt spent all day scrubbing. Sera’s rooms consisted of a small bedroom just large enough for the bed, wardrobe, and vanity inside that faced the courtyard and a bathing room in the eastern wing of the palace. They were far smaller than any of the royal suites, but they suited her needs, and they were far enough away from the other members of her family that she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Elante accidentally. 

Stripping off her clothes and leaving them in piles on the floor, Sera bathed quickly, scrubbing off the sweat and dirt from the day and washing her hair with her favorite lavender and cedar scented shampoo. It smelled like the forest, like the home she’d never known.

When she wa finished, Sera dressed in a simple olive green dress. It was the closest she’d get to dressing up for dinner, much to her sister’s dismay. The dress was fitted in the bust and waist and flowed loosely around her hips and legs to the floor. It was unadorned, no embroidery or beading, but pretty, and it flattered Sera’s fuller figure.

She used a puff of magic to dry her long hair, braiding it down her back. Sera didn’t have much magic, just enough to do the simplest things like heating a bath or drying her hair. She had the exceptional hearing and sight rof the Wood Elves, but beyond that, she wasn’t sure if she’d inherited any of their other magical gifts. She’d never been permitted to test her magical abilities beyond what a High Elf child would do, and when she’d discovered during those tests that she barely had any of the considerable powers of the High Elves, Elante had nearly fainted with joy. She had tried to use Sera’s lack of magic as an indication that she was not actually the daughter of the Moon Prince after all, but the eyes that Sera and her father shared were proof enough that Elante’s claims were quickly dismissed. 

Sera hurried down to the dining room, certain that she was already late for the dinner. She was indeed the last to arrive, she found as she flung open the doors to reveal a room full of nobility who stared at her. She met each of their gazes in turn, daring anyone to reprimand her as she crossed the room to kiss her father’s ring and take her place at Nirya’s side. Nirya merely gave her a tight smile as Sera sat at the high table, reaching for the loaf of crusty bread in front of her and ripping off a chunk.

“Good of you to finally join us, Seraphine,” Elante hissed from across the table. “One would almost think you didn’t care about Nirya’s coronation tomorrow for all the lack of decorum you’ve shown today.”

Sera shrugged. “One would be correct,” she said, her mouth full of the bread.

Elante’s eyes narrowed and she looked ready to bite Sera’s head off, but Nirya intervened.

“What do you intend to wear to the ceremony tomorrow, Sera?” she asked.

Sera shrugged again. “I don’t know. Whatever I have in my wardrobe, I suppose.”

“I have a dress that would be absolutely stunning on you,” Nirya said. “You’ll wear that.”

Sera gave her sister a sideways look. Gifts from Nirya, gifts from any of the High Elves, always came at a price. Elante, mercifully, had stopped paying attention to their conversation, her focus now on her husband and the minister to whom he now spoke. 

“Why?” Sera asked.

“Because tomorrow is my day, and I would like my sister to wear something nice,” Nirya said. A tendril of Nirya’s power poked at Sera’s mind. Not to harm or persuade, but to let her know that Nirya meant what she said. Sera batted it away as though it were a fly. 

“Fine,” she said after a long pause. Nirya smiled at her.

“Good. I’ll have the seamstress bring it to your rooms tomorrow morning so you can try it on.”

Nirya turned her attention toward the ministers sitting around them, and Sera turned hers toward the meal in front of them, content to ignore everyone else in the room for the rest of the evening. She gorged herself on the roasted meats and vegetables in front of her, and when her father clapped his hands for the desserts to be brought out, she served herself a heaping slice of lemon merengue, completely ignoring the look of distaste thrown her way by Elante.

That was one of the only perks of living in the palace, she thought. The food was exquisite. 

Sera ate until she was full to bursting, and then she sat back, surveying the room. Musicians had been brought in and the sounds of the lilting music filled the vast dining hall, weaving between the sounds of the courtiers talking. All of her father’s court was in attendance for such a big occasion. The various ministers who advised him on matters of foreign policy, trade agreements, commerce, military, and other matters clustered as close to him as they could get, open eyes and ears for anything that might grant them a foothold in the court. Her father’s close friends, most of them High Elf warriors from the time he’d spent in the military when he was younger, were also gathered, keeping a close eye on everyone who swarmed their prince. The warriors’ and ministers’ wives tended dutifully to Elante, who entertained them all with cool boredom, looking as though she’d rather be listening to the business Ilkay conducted.

Nirya played the part of the courtier well already, smiling and greeting as many of the ministers as she could. She flitted from group to group, chatting briefly but never staying with one person for too long. She spent the longest amount of time among the younger men who had been invited - unsurprising, given Elante’s recent pushing for her to find a husband. Nirya was a shameless flirt, and thoroughly enjoyed the attention lavished upon her. 

Sera made idle small talk with the few people who came to speak to her, mostly younger men who accompanied their fathers. They never had anything of interest to say, so they largely resorted to talking about the weather and whether the crops would fare well that year or what sorts of training they would undertake next in her father’s army or navy ranks. By and large, the court left her alone, no one wanting to be associated with the bastard daughter of their prince.

When Sera’s eyes drooped with exhaustion and the music became softer, she slipped from the great dining room and headed back to her rooms, pausing briefly to glance upwards at the moon, nearly full. She closed her eyes as the light illuminated her face, straining to see if she felt any of the innate power that sang to her father and her sister in her blood, but there was only silence, as though the moon itself had decided she was also not worthy of its power.

Sera opened her eyes again and entered her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

[chronicfangirling]

Re: unrequited loves and apologies (ch.2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Angst/Fluff Words: 1282 A/N: Technically not requested, though there were comments inquiring about a follow-up. More parts to follow, depending on feedback.

Summary: You considered yourself the person who cared about Jungkook the most, and it seemed natural for you to return to his side in his time of need. But you just might be doing him more harm than good.

ch.1 | ch.2

‘... Following Jeon Jungkook's injury, there have been reports from insider sources of him leaving the group. While his management company has issued consistent denials, fans have been speculating prior to his accident that the youngest member has been less than enthusiastic during the group's activities. There have been conflicting rumors of his 'attitude' problems, with one side claiming that he has become more arrogant with the group's success, and another side claiming that he has simply become fatigued and possibly depressed...'

You closed the article without finishing it, taking ragged breaths as your heart felt like it had been crushed. "Jungkookie... this isn't you."

It didn't matter that Jungkook didn't love you, or that you had run away to escape that fact, or that he had somebody else by his side. All that mattered now was that you had to be there for him. Whatever it was that was going on, you'd help him get through it.

***

You peered into the hospital room, whispering: "Jungkook?"

Slouched on the bed with a cast on his left leg, he had been staring out the window. His ever-present headset was missing and the room was devoid of music. He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't quite believe that you were there. "Y/N...?"

He pushed his palms upon the mattress and flung himself off the bed in his haste to get to you, but you were there to catch him. He was too heavy for you, and you both slid on the floor.

Holding your face between his hands, he stammered: "You--you changed your number, and, and, and--you never answered my emails, and they said... they said you'd return after a year, if at all."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just--I didn't know--how..." you sobbed, swiping at your eyes roughly, but he stopped you and brushed away your tears with his thumb. "Jungkookie, what happened to you?"

"That doesn't matter now, Y/N." he declared. "All that matters is that you're here."

His fingertips twitched against your cheeks, as if in a tentative caress, and his teeth peeked out to bite at his lower lip... for a moment, it seemed that he was about to kiss you.

But the door swung open, and the two of you drew back, almost guiltily, when Yerim stepped through, several bouquets in her arms. Her face stiffened for a second when she saw you, but soon broke into a bright smile. She made no comment about the two of you being sprawled on the floor, and as you scrambled to your feet and helped Jungkook up, she busied herself with arranging the bouquets on the side tables at either side of Jungkook's bed.

"You have too many admirers Jungkookie," she scolded. "I can't walk through the campus without someone trying to send presents through me."

"I'm sorry," he said, dragging himself to a sitting position on the bed. Keeping your gaze down, you arranged the sheets over his legs with swift, business-like motions, resisting the urge to tuck him in.

"I'm teasing!" she giggled. "I'm happy to see so many people love you. I got you those almond croissants you liked." She pointed at a box on his table.

You deliberately kept a poker face, willing yourself not to frown. That box was from the bakery you discovered, and the almond croissants were your favorite. They had said that business wasn't good and they were going to shut down soon, but you dragged Jungkook there and had him eat almond croissants by the window, and that single action saved the bakery when his fans found out and started frequenting the place.

"Well, anyway!" Yerim exclaimed. "I've got to go. Chanhee's waiting for me."

Chanhee? Your ears perked at the unfamiliar name.

Jungkook's smile was sad as he said: "Thank you for coming over, Yerim."

"Yah, why so formal?" She slapped his arm playfully. "Aren't we friends?" She sashayed out of the door without acknowledging you, leaving your head awhirl in her wake.

Friends? Confused, you turned to Jungkook. "Who's Chanhee?"

"The guy Yerim's seeing now." Scratching at his head, he laughed at your shocked expression. "We broke up a while back and we're just friends now."

The puzzle pieces clicked in your mind. Your very first impulse was to run after Yerim and yank off her hair, screaming at her for turning Jungkook into this... but you knew sweet, kind-hearted Jungkook would never want you to hurt his ex-girlfriend, no matter how much she deserved it. So you said: "I'm going to buy some milk tea--you'll have your usual, right?" Without waiting for his answer, you strode out of the door.

When you were sure you were out of Jungkook's earshot, you yelled at her back. "Kim Yerim!"

She froze in her tracks, turning on her heels slowly, and huffed as if she could hardly believe that you had dared to yell at her. You stopped in front of her, shoulders squared, your hands planted on your hips.

"I'd slap you right now and you'd deserve it, but I won't. Because Jungkook wouldn't like it." you growled through gritted teeth.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed.

"How could you hurt Jungkook like that?" you demanded. "He chose you, of all people, and this is what you do? Break up with him, break his heart--break him--and leave him when he needed you the most?"

She laughed, and you were once again confused, but your confusion was quickly replaced by anger and you very nearly punched her right then and there. She sobered and the fury in her eyes had you stumbling back. "I should be the one asking you those questions, Y/N."

Your jaw dropped. "Wha--"

"Let me inform you why Jungkook and I broke up--it was all because of you." she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Me..?" you gasped.

"He was devastated when you left. He'd call and message you nonstop, even though your number was no longer in use, and he was banned at the university offices for constantly asking for your contact information even after being informed that it was against policy." She raised an eyebrow and glared at you. "His work suffered, his health suffered... he suffered. Because of you."

You were confused all over again. "But you--"

"I was there for him. But I might as well not have been. He ignored me and all my attempts to comfort him. Then finally, he told me that he didn't love me anymore, or rather, he never did." Hurt crossed her features but it was immediately replaced with a scowl. "He thought he did because I seemed to be another you--an ordinary university student that he met through fateful circumstances despite being from completely different worlds who wasn't dazzled by his fame and intuitively got along with him and understood him. He realized this when you were gone."

You stuttered, trying to defend yourself: "B-B-But I--"

"But you... you're the one who abandoned him. He lost interest in everything and everyone else he loved because you left. And that stupid accident--he walked into a busy street because he was following someone who looked like you from behind. Did you know that he passed out from the impact? And when he woke up, he cried not from the pain, but because he still hasn't found you." Yerim paused, watching your face. She drew out her next words purposefully. "So you see Y/N...  it was you who broke him."

Yerim raised a hand and you scrunched your eyes shut, bracing for a slap. But a minute passed without anything and you peeked to see her lowering her hand and smirking. "I'd slap you right now and you'd deserve it, but I won't. Not because Jungkook wouldn't like it, but because it would make you seem pitiful and make me seem like the bad woman. But we both know that's not true." "Because you're the bad one here, Y/N."

With a toss of her long, perfectly-styled hair, Yerim marched away. Knees buckling, you collapsed to the ground.

The puzzled pieces clicked in your mind again, forming a completely different picture this time. Yerim had revealed everything you had been fervently, selfishly wishing for--for Jungkook to realize that he loved you and not her, for them to break up, for him to pine after you and wallow in regret--but it was all wrong. You pressed a hand against your mouth to muffle your sobs.

It was me...? I did this... to Jungkook?

[lighteningdancer]

Dangerous

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12279192

Summary: If only all first meetings were perfect.

Warnings: Off screen death and saddness??

The first time Skull met another Cloud he was confused. Okay, so confused may not be the right choice to describe it really, maybe he was more perplexed? The word choice here really isn't the most important thing; all that matters is that for a moment even he was stunned to complete silence.

He had heard of course how other Clouds were said to act. Most were cold and aloof, highly territorial and very volatile. Their minds could not be changed and their actions could rarely, if ever, be controlled. They were to be hoarded if found or, if found by someone weaker than then they were, left alone at all costs.

This meant there were very few active Clouds.

If they were found and restricted most tended to rebel until they met a tragic end, either by their own hands, their supposed ‘Family’s’ hands or an outside source who had heard of them due to said family’s bragging of having a Cloud. Killing themselves is perhaps the most tragic way to go out of the three options, after all the Cloud has already been chained and restricted to resort to such a measure, and to die would just be horrendous. Skull also finds the idea of dying because of the other reasons horrifying as well. Clouds that are killed by their Family's inability to not brag is heartbreaking at the very least and not something that can be taken lightly. The most heinous however is a Family killing off their Cloud, simply because they will not listen without the right Sky or because the had become no longer 'tame'. Most Clouds Skull had ever heard of had met their end in one of these three manners.

Those who could not, or would not, be ‘tamed’ for even a short time due to a variety of outside factors were another story. Their territory may to be too big for them to handle and so they died of overreaching and spending too much energy protecting what is theirs. In this scenario they usually die bone tired in battle. Or other times the territory they have is overpopulated and there are much stronger people there who don't want or need a Cloud getting in their way. In this case as well the Cloud in question also dies in battle. Lastly for unrestricted Clouds there is one more way to die free, and that is dying protecting their territory from invaders or those who wish to chain them down. These are the Clouds who go out in a final blaze of glory, their purple flames lighting the sky for all to see.

So in most, if not all cases, Clouds die in battle protecting their right to be free and to have a choice. Which is why Skull was so shocked the first time he sees a Cloud other than himself.

It was before the curse, before everything changed and shifted and became to wrong for words , while he was on a mission with Fon. The mission was simple in nature, pretend to be invited to a party, have Skull make a distraction, and then Fon would kill the boss of the Paladino family who was running a child sex ring. Which, by the way, was the only reason Skull was okay with the whole killing people thing.

If Skull hadn't been scanning the room to see what would make the most efficient distraction, a.k.a what would make the most mess if he started fucking it up, he may have never seen the other man standing alone against one of the walls.

The man was most likely just a bit shorter than Reborn but his strength was displayed the same. The same lean muscles and dangerous glint in his eyes that seemed to warn anyone away at just a single well timed glance. The other Clouds hands seemed to glint in the light of the ballroom and after a moment Skull realized the other was wearing brass knuckles. Skull knew he was staring but he couldn't help himself, for the first time in his life he was meeting someone with the same flame as himself. Where Skull wanted to be the center of attention at all times, because really he's just awesome and everyone should see him and adore him, the other Cloud almost seemed like he was trying to become the wallpaper. But like deadly wallpaper. Skull wanted to be in constant motion, always moving in and out of people's line of sight , but the other young man looked like you would have to pry him away from the wall to mingle and you would most likely get maimed trying.

Then cold eyes met his as Skull felt in his soul something akin to looking into a mirror for the first time, something he knew so well was staring back at him but backwards and almost broken in every sense of the word.

Some people state that there are two kinds of flames; classic and inverted, though those never seemed right to the young immortal stuntman. There was nothing inverted about his flame at all.

The word invert is literally defined as: to reverse in position, order, direction, or relationship.

None of that replies to his relationship with his flames. See “inverted” and “original” flames still do the same thing . The only thing that is different is how flame users are taught or forced to use them. Any single Cloud out in the world could use their flames to heal themselves by multiplying their cells, and Skull could at any time use his flames to make multiples of physical objects. It's their lives that lead them becoming more skilled at each type of flame usage. For example: Skull broke his bones a lot but never really got into fights, so his Cloud flames prioritized healing over protection. Reborn’s Sun flames became more prone to attack rather than healing for the opposite reason, but all flame users can both heal, attack or defend with their flames if needed.

And every single flame user has the same relationship with their flames, it's their life force, their reason for being, and an extension of themselves more than any other thing in their life. There is no way to invert that unless they want to literally will themselves into dying.

So do “inverted” and “classical” work as terms in Skulls mind? Well, yes, but only so much as saying a chicken is a duck in that they are both words, which means not really. Instead he likes to categorize the flames as such:

Defensive: flames used primarily to defend oneself or others.

Offensive: flames used primarily to attack threats to oneself or others.

Healing: flames used primarily to keep oneself or others alive.

Now how a Cloud, or other flame user's personality, varies due to how flame users utilize their flames this Skull is still unsure. Far too many people see a flame user mainly use one type of flame harnessing skill and then immediately start making assumptions about them. If this starts early enough in their life they may mold themselves to meet this standard. There is also the fact that a lot of these ways of presenting flames come from different lifestyles and backgrounds, which also affect a person's personality. So if there is a causation and effect relationship going on between flames and personalities Skull can not say for certain. This is what he gets, he guesses, for not growing up in the Mafia.

What he can say though is that the Cloud across from him felt wrong , and it wasn’t just because they had different ways of using their flames . It was like licking an ice cream cone that's the color of Vanilla but tastes like literal actual dirt. Or going to watch your favorite show only to realize all of the actors are suddenly speaking Mandarin and you don't know the language and there are no subtitles. Or getting to your favorite boss in a video game only to find out all the controls are backwards and suddenly you're playing the villain and have to fight the character you just were.

He was just about to go over and do something when suddenly Fon was at his side, his eyebrows lowered in concern.

“What's wrong with him?” Skull almost shrieked before Fon could even ask, gesturing at the Cloud who had begun scanning another part of the room. So at the very least the other didn't see the disrespect and start attacking out of fucking principle.

“Ah, you mean the Paladino's Cloud?” Fon asked his worried look not leaving his face.

“No! The Great Skull means the plant next to him, yes I mean the Cloud!” He replied, not bothering to lower his voice in the slightest.

“There are some rumors about him that are less than pleasant to say the least. It’d be best not to dwell on it.”

“No, Fon, I have to know why he feels so wrong . It’s like he’s broken. If you don't tell me we both know how this is going to end” The purple haired man fought back.

Sighing Fon didn't even try to fight Skull before he answered this time, it wouldn't have done any good anyway. Once Skull had something he wanted to talk about he wouldn't let go until he got answers, which Fon knew as well as almost anyone.

“Well, there are rumors that he is forcing a discord with his own Sky to gain his freedom. Of course this is all speculation and nothing is certain, but that feeling you describe is certainly one that people associate with a discord. As we are here to kill his Sky though it’s not like it matters, the bond will be severed soon enough.” Fon replied trying his hardest not to let his own voice become tainted with emotions.

Discord was not something spoken of lightly. It was the killer waiting under a wedding bed, or the shadow that moves just a bit faster than the thing causing it. It was a taboo vile subject that was left more to nightmares than reality, and one of the few ways Skull knew a Cloud could become free once trapped.

One of the few ways a desperate drowning man would try to fling himself out the the depths to reach freedom.

Looking away from Fon and back at the other Cloud Skull wanted to rage. He longed to let his flames so used to saving start destroying. The building burning to the ground would not be enough to quell the rage that was brewing in the man who had never wanted to bathe his hands in a drop of blood. Just the thought of such destruction would normally turn him to a quivering mess, but instead he found himself quivering in anticipation.

Clouds were rare enough to begin with, and one forming a bond with a Sky is one in a million odds. That a Sky would break their Cloud to the point where they would force a discord of all things to gain their freedom is disgusting! A Sky is supposed to protect their elements, a Sky is supposed to let the Cloud roam free yet give them a home to return to.

Taking a deep breath Skull locked eyes with the other Cloud and whispered under his breath to Fon four simple words before he lunged forward ready to attack.

“I have your distraction.”

A battle with flame users is always a magnificent sight, and a battle between two of the same flame can be stunning. A showdown between two Clouds however is a rare event, something many had never seen or would never seen again, and was therefore awe inducing. Something that no one in their right mind would tear their eyes away from .

To say Skull didn't know what he was doing would be an understatement. All he knew is that soon the bond between this other Cloud and his Sky would be broken, something that ruined many guardians whether they wanted the bond broken or not. At the very worst the other Cloud would be catatonic, their flames would go dormant and resist them, or they would end up dead. In the best case their flames would become volatile and possibly even uncontrollable until they found another Sky. If they ever found another Sky. Before that happened just once Skull wanted to see the fire of life in this Cloud's eyes.

Skull’s fist did not impact the other’s face, but he never expected it to, Skull wasn’t made for brute force and overwhelming his opponents with his sheer strength. What he excelled at is what he was currently doing, being distracting. Which is why the other Cloud never noticed Skulls other fist heading right towards his solar plexus. The impact shocked the other Cloud enough that Skull thought for a brief fleeting moment that he saw something in his eyes and then it was gone in an instant.

But the fight still continued.

Each hit that Skull suffered made his body sing a duet of agony and joy. Obviously being hit by flame strengthened brass knuckles was painful as all hell but the damage was quickly healed by his own flames. Flames that were begging to be used and set free on the world around him and to run through his veins as surely as his blood. Skull wanted to give in and just let his flames rage merely to see if maybe that would finally bring a reaction out of his opponent, but he held them in if only because they were literally keeping his bones from being pulverised.

Eventually the other Cloud backed Skull into a corner, which is exactly where the other wanted him, as they had made it all the way across the ballroom and surely everyone's eyes would be on them.

“And now the Great Skull will end you!” Which that’s was Fon’s que to ‘cut off the head’ as you will. And Skulls last chance to get a rise out of the other Cloud if he was ever going to get one.

Skull was finally able to let his flames loose and prove why he was one of the Strongest Seven, knowing full well that in moments he would not have any more punches to withstand with the other’s Sky gone from the world. The whole room seemed to take on a purple hue from Skull’s perspective, every pore of his skin had flames pouring out of them and never before or again would he say it but he was thankful for Reborn being kindly forced by Luce to make all of them flame resistant suits. The result being that his flames could manifest in a way that they rarely got the chance to, encasing him in a barrier that felt like every time he had ever ‘come back to life’ but better, while still being fully clothed.

He heard the gasps but only as an afterthought as he was more focused on something else, the man in front of him whose hands were still posed to strike. Skulls flames reached out to him in a way that they had only ever done to one other person and they began to practically beg the other.

‘Come and play with me.’

‘Join Me.’

‘Don’t you remember what it was like?’

‘Real Clouds are never chained, we are always free.’

‘Join Me.’

‘I want to see how brightly you burn.’

‘Join Me.’

‘Hurry! There isn’t much time left!’

‘Join Me.’

‘Join Me.’

‘Join Me!’

Skull was probably only reaching out for a small moment but it felt like an eternity before the other reacted and his eyes finally came alive. As if he couldn’t control himself even if he wanted to the other Cloud released his flames to intertwine with Skulls and they joined together in a symphony that is impossible to describe in words other than joyous. What else could he do other than join in, really, when one of the Strongest Sevens flames were calling?

But Skull could not keep his eyes away from the other’s, this is what he had been waiting for since he saw the other Cloud. To see the sense of freedom singing behind his brown eyes, to catch the flashes of unbridled joy and to know that the other remembered what it was like to be a Cloud.

What it was like to be free.

Clouds are the rarest flame type, but they are also the only type that when they let loose, really and truly let their flames be free.

And then the moment shattered when the others eyes suddenly went dull and his flame seemed to sink into him as if it had never been there at all. The young man looked like he was about to pass out and Skull was about to reach forward to help him somehow when the screaming started. And Skull knew that he should leave, he really did, but he couldn’t bring his feet to move.

He just watched a young man’s, a young Cloud’s, flames refuse to answer his call. They were no longer the other’s to control, instead they had gone dormant forever at their Sky’s death, leaving a broken young man behind. A man who from the looks of it was in shock, simply staring at his hands as tears welled in his eyes but would not fall.

He had just help steal a Cloud’s freedom.

The next thing Skull remembers of that night will forever be Fon speaking to him in hushed tones as the mansion they were in burns behind them. There are no more screams of terror or empty eyes begging for a warmth that won’t come.

And Skull?

Skull felt empty.

No more rage, just… emptiness.  

“Fon?” Skull asked surprised somehow about how scratchy his throat is and how hard it is to get that single word out.

“You did nothing wrong Skull. You set him free, you set all of that corrupted Sky’s guardians free.” Fon replied trying to sound comforting, but it had the opposite effect on the Cloud. Suddenly Skull is retching on the ground and Fon has to jump to not be caught in the crossfire.

“Death isn’t freedom!”

“Not to you, and not to me, but to a bound Cloud? This is what he would have wanted.”

Skull doubts that after seeing the other's eyes, at the joy and life that was in them when their flames came as close to a Harmony between two flames of the same type as possible. And it was at this point that though Skull had already become attached to the other Cloud he realized he had never learned the other’s name or heard him say an actual word, and that he never would.

On the lawn before the building burning with his flames was not the place for this though. No Skull could mourn for days, or weeks if he wished, once he got home in the presence of the other flames under his Sky. He could cry for hours and hours, and be called a crybaby by everyone forever, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t do it here anymore.

Not in the place where he had found and lost his first ever Cloud sibling by his own hand.

“Now that’s enough of that! On to the next adventure for the Great Skull and his lackey!” Skull said slipping on a mask of joy as he wobbled to his feet, hoping beyond all hope it looked more real than it felt.

Not believing a word, but not willing to have the other have a breakdown Fon slowly stood as well. “Lackey? Perhaps I should tell Reborn of this?”

“Ah! Well! Maybe Reborn shouldn’t know about me calling you a L-word!” Skull said waving his hands back and forth frantically.

“You mean... Lackey?”

“Fon!”

As they walked away Skull refused to look back no matter how much he wanted to. He could not look at the place where a whole Sky of elements had fallen at least in part to his own rage. After all a Cloud can only be as free as they allow themselves to be, and freedom is all Skull had ever wanted for him and everyone he loved.

He is sure, on this at least, the other Cloud would have agreed.

[kyuukancorbie]

JG Summary 1-4 Mato

Mato, or the Devil’s City. 1940.

Disclaimer: 1. I assume everyone knows what’s already in the anime. 2. The information is based on the Chinese novel, I do not claim credit for translation. 3. Everything is quoted. My comments are in parenthesis. 4. Please do not post outside of tumblr. 5. Corrections are welcomed.

Main Character: Yukihito Kusanagi （行人　草薙）/ Fukumoto （福本）

  Note on the title

Mato, or 魔都, is a name given to Shanghai, specifically the Shanghai Concession, by Japanese around the 1930s. If you remember 魔王 as the devil king, 魔都 would be the devil’s city, or sin city if you prefer. The word “魔都” is revived in China today as a slang for Shanghai.

Another disclaimer, the military ranking may not be accurate, as it is very confusing trying to match Japanese and English terms, when I can only refer to Chinese terms. So any corrections are welcomed.

Story is told from the perspective of Sergeant Eiji Honma. The anime follows the novel quite closely, so I’ll just be focusing on the characters rather than the whole plot. I will still add details in the end to give you guys a flavor but you should really just wikipedia as I do not intend to write a history essay.

List of characters: 

- Eiji Honma (英司　本間) (Honma): Storyteller, former officer of the Tokubetsu Kōtō Keisatsu in Japan (特別高等警察, or literally Special Higher Police, the Japanese secret police. See bottom of the post for notes). Transferred to Shanghai Kenpeitai 3 months ago and has difficulty adjusting to the locality. He is tasked by Captain Oikawa to investigate internal information leaks.

- Masayuki Oikawa (政行　及川) (Oikawa): Captain of Shanghai Kenpeitai. Relatively slender and delicate build for a soldier, engaged to the daughter of Lieutenant General Yokozawa and about to get a promotion.

He was known to be a perfectionist and a mysophobe, but this eventually led to his mental demise in the 5 years working in the Western Shanghai District, the most dangerous area of all Shanghai. He states that 5 years is too long. He fell for gambling, drinking, whoring, and agreed to secretly exchange opium kept by the Kenpeitai for his own pleasure. It is revealed that he sells military intelligence as well. To hide his crimes, he instigated a robbery of the Kenpeitai’s opium warehouse, hired a boy from the casino to kill Nobuteru Miyata, then blew up his own house so the series of events looked like the works of anti-Japanese terrorists.

There is a detailed analysis of Oikawa’s background and the historical locations in present day real life by the same person I linked last time, in Chinese. Please note that the photos of Shanghai are taken by the author herself and should not be reproduced without her permission.

- Nobuteru Miyata (伸照　宮田) (Miyata): Sergeant Major of the Shanghai Kenpeitai, killed not long ago in the alleys, shown in the beginning of the anime episode 4. He was originally investigating the missing opium from the Kenpeitai, before secretly killed.

- Yutaka Yoshino (豊　吉野) (Yoshino): Leading Private of the Shanghai Kenpeitai. He is Oikawa’s accomplice in smuggling opium. However in the end the poor guy killed Oikawa for killing his lover.

- Hajime Shiotsuka (朔　塩塚) (Shiotsuka): Graduate from Tokyo Imperial University, present day Tokyo University, and currently a writer for a Japanese newspaper based in Shanghai. As a student he was caught by Tokuko (特高) police reading a left-wing magazine, but quickly broke and swore repentence (…) after some questioning and was subsequently released. He left China some time before Honma’s encounter with Fukumoto, who used him as a disguise.

- Yukihito Kusanagi (行人　草薙) (Kusanagi): D-Agency spy of the episode. Graduate from Tokyo Imperial University, classmate of Shiotsuka. He is identified by Shiotsuka as a D-Agency spy, although the Shiotsuka that Honma meets is probably Kusanagi in disguise. In the anime, Kusanagi is Fukumoto.

Kusanagi is described as extremely smart in school, a mysterious loner, with a fair, cold face like a mask. No one knows anything about his family, though some students speculated he is a bastard of an important guy and a geisha. There is no evidence for this. It is also rumored that after graduating with exceptional grades he continued to study somewhere abroad.

When Honma looks at Kusanagi’s graduation photo, he notes that his face is not one of an extremist, those he usually dealt with in the Tokko days. Although the photo is a front picture, it feels as if Kusanagi is looking sideways. While the photo is taken for an entire group of students, it seems as if his personal picture. Honma realizes that Kusanagi has the expression of egotist who believes in noone but himself, aperson who takes huge risks and difficult tasks just because he can.

(This is a possible background for Fukumoto, except for the fact that the Shiotsuka describing this is probably Kusanagi/Fukumoto himself. No doubt he is using Honma, but he may be playing with him as well, as I’ll mention on a later point, but the graduation photo seems real. It is possible that Yukihito Kusanagi is his real name).

 ———————- 

Notes: 

Tokkō (特高): the Japanese secret police that patrols the country for communist suspects. They are called Peace Police but are known more notoriously as Thought Police. They are initially a division of the Home Ministry but was added to the command of the Kenpeitai in occupied regions. Before WWII every Japanese embassy in China had a police department with a Tokko division. (Honma worked as a Tokko officer in Japan, but is not a Tokko when transferred to Shanghai).

Shanghai International Settlement: The following is an introduction from wikipedia.

The settlements were established following the defeat of the Qing army by the British in the First Opium War (1839–1842). Under the terms of the Treaty of Nanking, the five treaty ports including Shanghai were opened to foreign merchants. Unlike the colonies of Hong Kong and Weihaiwei, which were sovereign British territories, the foreign concessions in Shanghai originally remained Chinese sovereign territory. However, the Qing government gave up sovereignty in the concessions to the foreign powers in exchange of their support to suppress the rebellion in 1853-1855. The following year the British and American settlements formally united to create the Shanghai International Settlement. As more foreign powers entered into treaty relations with China, their nationals also became part of the administration of the settlement, but it always remained a predominantly British affair until the growth of Japan’s involvement in the late 1930s.

The Marco Polo Bridge Incident: September 7th, 1937.

Also known as the July 7th Incident, the Lugou Bridge Incident. (七七事变、卢沟桥事变)

The battle marked the beginning of Japanese invasion of North China and the Second Sino-Japanese War from 1937 to 1945, which is also part of the Pacific front of WWII. The story of Mato or Episode 4 takes place in 1940, which means China and Japan had been in state of war for years. The novel notes that since then the British have been favoring the Chinese government in Chongqing and tends to turn a blind eye to anti-Japanese activity in Shanghai.

The Battle of Shanghai: August 13th, 1937.

This was one of the largest and bloodiest battles of the entire war, described by Peter Harmsen as “Stalingrad on the Yangtze”. The Chinese and Japanese were fighting in Shanghai for 3 months before the Japanese took control of city. After the battle, the originally bustling Zhabei and Nanshi Districts were destroyed, the Chinese area of the Shanghai concession became essentially slums, the international settlement north of Suzhou River was seriously damaged and occupied by Japan. The settlement south of the River, as well as the French part of the concession, was left out of the battle and continued an eerie four-year prosperity called the “Lone Island Era （孤岛时期）”. The Western District of Shanghai, under Japanese control, became the hotbed for crime, which is where the soldiers in the novel are working.

Yuuki’s designs for Shanghai:

(Note: In the anime, it is revealed in the end that, by encouraging a person from the Kenpeitai to deal with Kenpeitai’s internal issues, the Agency helped the Kenpeitai save face and thus, the army has agreed to Yuuki’s plans. However it does not say what the Yuuki’s plan is, possibly because of the time limit, or because it involved a good deal of political and historical complications. In the novel, Shiotsuka told Honma their plan, and Honma reasons it out in considerable detail.)

The plan: 2.5 billion fake notes of Chinese Yuan brought into Shanghai, to be distributed throughout the country. According to the novel, this is worth the sum 3 years of Chinese military expense in 1937. Numbers aside, this is intended to wreck the Chinese economy with inflation, destroy the currency’s credibility, and ultimately prevent them from importing weapons and raw materials from abroad.

While supposedly this plan can win the war without a fight, not only the army, but also the public if they ever get to know about it, will definitely accuse the plan as being utterly dispicable.

The Green Gang（青帮）: To carry out the currency warfare it is also rumored that the D-Agency will be cooperating with the Green Gang in China. They are a secret society unrelated to national sovereignty, similar to the Japanese Yakuzas. While there were historically many secret societies in China, the Green Gang based along the Yantze River and in Shanghai are said to be the most powerful yet and now commands China’s underground economy. The Green Gang’s primary source of income is opium. Honma remembers how much damage opium has already caused in China and how unsettled he feels every time he passes an opium den in Shanghai.

The War: Honma believes that the objective of war was supposed to be freeing Asian people from the oppression of European imperialists. He then wonders why the war has come to this distasteful state.

Looking at Kusanagi’s photo again Honma feels like Kusanagi is looking down upon the whole world, laughing at every existence. He then remembers several words: daemon, devil, dangerous, darkness. Honma ponders about the meaning of the name “D” agency, but stops himself from overthinking and leaves the scene.

At the end of the chapter, Honma is in Oikawa’s office watching the dead bodies, and he sees the bodies of two men bewitched by Mato, Shanghai, the Devil’s City. A question is raised: “will you be able to handle situations like this?” The final sentences describes a pair of eyes peering at Honma from the dark.

Note: speculations on why Kusanagai/Fukumoto gives Honma Kusanagi’s name

1. He may need a second alias becausing leading Honma to the night club under the name Shiotsuka could perhaps cause unnecessary suspicion. 2. He needs an alias that interests Honma enough to make Honma follow his lead. 3. He announces the presence of the D-Agency as a headsup or warning for Honma to keep an eye out as the agency will continue their surveilling, and they may need direct cooperation from the Kenpeitai in the future.

Or 4. Kusanagi/Fukumoto is playing with him because he can.

A funny note: when disguised as Shiotsuka, he states that even if Honma learns all the languages and habits involved in Shanghai culture, locals will still be able to tell a Japanese apart from sight. The way they wear their clothes could be different, even they way they wash their faces are different. At this point Honma asks about what is the difference. Shiotsuka demonstrates that while the Japanese have their hands closed, moving up and down their faces, the Chinese move their faces up and down their hands. Honma takes note of this.

I will say this as absolute nonsense. Bet 99% that Shiotsuka/Kusanagi/Fukumoto is just playing with the poor sergeant.

@jgfiles