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chat-noir-always-here · 3 years

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“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is

actively

trying

to kill you?!

Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold!

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous.

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends.

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.”

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see.

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage.

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid.

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids.

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him.

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality vs. Surface Personality

I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into.

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien.

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time.

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

youtube

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time.

In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series.

But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity?

Clinginess.

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that.

What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed.

The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

He treats his friends better.

He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE.

WORST.

PARENT.

EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s.

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning.

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that.

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying.

But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight.

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do.

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.”

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story.

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is.

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks.

But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes.

I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette?

;)

#long post #adriennette #shortaki #hey arnold #miraculous ladybug #love square #nicktoons #zag toons

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jokersredheadedqueen · 5 years

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My love

Arthur x reader

Reader is a neighbor of Arthur’s and they cendal a new friendship until it becomes more.

•

Another bad day. I tug my bag filled with my heavy school books and my change of clothes from work. I don’t even know why I get up in the mornings. All the sun brings me anymore is a pain in the light. No one in Gotham cares anymore.

I unlock my door to my apartment and notice eyes looking my way. I peek down the hall and see a man whom I’ve seen for many years. I wave my hand in his direction tearing him away from his trace. He gasps slightly and smiles shyly with his head down.

The next day seems to end the same way. I come home from another shitty day, see my neighbor, give a wave, blush, and then completely retreat inside. I throw myself on the couch thinking about the man’s eyes. They hold more than what he gives off. He’s troubled and is trying to escape.

A knock on my door pulls my attention away from my own thoughts. I stand opening the door revealing the man from down the hall. “Hi.” I tilt my head smiling. “Hi.” He sways on his heels unsure of himself.

“I’m Arthur.” I smile and lean on my door frame. “I’m (y/n).”

Arthur stares at me and looks down smiling. “Sorry. I-” His voice stings out and suddenly loud laughter flies out of his mouth. He covers his mouth with his shoulder and coughs on his breath. I place my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He holds up his hand as another fit of laughter runs through him. He gives me a card.

Please excuse my laughter. I have a condition.

I meet my eyes with his cackling figure again. He beings to walk away but I grab his arm pulling him inside my home. I pull him close shocking myself as I lightly rub his back calming him slowly. “Focus on your breathing. Think about something nice. Something calming Arthur.”

And after a few minutes, Arthur started to catch his breath and relax under my touch. “I’m sorry. I can’t control my-“ “you don’t have to explain yourself, Arthur.” He smiles at me and I notice his eyes become lighter.

•

From then on the two were together any chance they were allowed.

(Y/n) will to check on Penny if Arthur was running late. She’d buy them groceries knowing Arthur had more on his plate than anyone else. Penny wanted her around more and more each day.

“I want you to marry someone, Happy. You deserve a good woman.” Arthur laughs. “That is if a woman actually wants to marry me, mother. Plus I need to be here for you.” Penny shrugs “well the two of you could move here. I sure she wouldn’t mind staying with me.” Arthur laughs at his mother’s plans.

“Sure mother. When the opportunity comes I will.” “Well, you’re missing it now.” “Who mother? Oh, please tell me who you could’ve found. Who do you talk to?” Arthur continues to laugh as he cooks dinner for his mother.

“(Y/n), dear. She’s just wonderful. I know she would make you so happy.” He nods. “She already does. She’s my friend.” Penny smirks at her son playfully. “I don’t buy it. I’m going to call her over for dinner.”

“Mother no!” Arthur rushes to her but she’s already speaking with Arthur’s angel on the other side of the line.

“Of course! Yes, he’s here. Wonderful dear! See you soon!” Arthur places his hand on his face. “I can’t see her right now! Oh my god! My shirt!” Arthur looks down seeing his shirt filthy with today’s work of face paint and dirt from being pushed on the ground by kids.

He quickly changes into a green button-up and goes back to cooking like nothing happened when (y/n) walks in the door.

“Hi, Artie. I brought some brownies.” He smiles at her blushing slightly and gets the tray from her hands. “I like this shirt.” She says pulling at the collar and then moving swiftly out of way to sit by his mother in the living room.

•

I knock on Arthur’s door in the use of some laughter. He opens the door, smiling at me but that soon falls when he sees my face. ”(y/n) what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?” I smile and roll my eyes thinking of the asshole who I went out with.

”No Arthur. I've just had a rough night. If I'm being honest I don't want to be alone.” Without another second Arthur pulls me inside his home.

The TV on and piles of cigarette butts on the ashtray. ”You know you're always welcome here.” I turn to my friend I've come to care for so deeply. ”You’re too sweet Arthur.”

I kick my heels off and plant myself on his couch close to his cushion, and he soon joins.

Time goes on without a word making my mind run.

”You’re looking, good baby. Can't wait to see what's under all these threads.” yeah. The very first words my date opened with. Great start right?

”What are you thinking about honey?” I look over to see Arthur with the expression of complete concern. ”I swear if someone hurt you I will… Well, I am-” ”Arthur! No. I promise I'm okay. I just didn’t have a good night.” “What happened?” I shrug and pull my knees up to my chest feeling the burning of the unreleased tears. “I just don’t- I don’t get why someone can’t...love me.” I let my eyes flow with tears. “I’m sorry. This is dumb.” I wipe my tears away and try to gather myself.

Arthur grabs my hands in his and smiles softly at me. “Talk about it.” I looked down at his hands and run my thumb over a single scar on his finger. This man has been the only one who has cared for me for the longest time.

“I just can’t seem to find anyone who loves me, Arthur.” He shakes his head never dropping eye contact with me. “You have someone. I promise you.” I shake my head laughing at the situation. “Arthur if you would’ve seen him tonight you would have called me stupid. I should’ve known he was going to be an asshole. I mean he’s a friend of Randall’s! It was dumb to even think he would want anything other than to fuck my brains out! He was such an ass!” I rant throwing my hands up in rage.

“FUCKING NO ONE FOR ME! I SWEAR IF ANOTHER MAN COMES UP TO ME-” My entire back is pushed flat onto the cushions and a pair of lips is on my own. I wrap my arms around his neck and move my lips against his. He pulls away and looks at me with those beautiful eyes withholding everything in him.

“Arthur.”

“I love you.”

•

I sit on the side of the tub in my bra watching my lover dance around dying his hair green. “You still haven’t told me why you picked green.” He laughs and shakes his wet hair at me. “Why not darling? Time to be bold.” “Oh yeah that bold alright.” I grab a towel and wipe the specks or water off my face. “Jessica and I are going out but I told her we have to be back to watch your show. So don’t worry. I am not going to miss it.” Arthur smiles and pulls me close enclosing our bodies in a passionate embrace. “I can’t wait for you to see me. It will be… hm… KILLER!” He chuckles kissing me once more.

•

“So this is the guy you’ve been seeing? Isn’t he like...Old?” “He’s not old! He’s like a wine. A tasty wine.” My friend rolls her eyes laughing as she watches Arthur with me.

“I’m just trying to make people laugh.” “And how’s that working out for you?” Maury asks him mockingly to which Arthur just laughs in his own way.

“You sure do have a taste (y/n).” She laughs as she pops another cigarette in her mouth.

“Well… ever since I killed those 3 guys on the subway.”

Wait. What?

Jessic looks at me shocked while I only get on my knees and turn the volume up. “Come on Arthur. Don’t make jokes.”

“Why should we believe you?” “Because I’ve got nothing left to lose. Nothing can hurt me anymore. My life is nothing but a comedy!” “Let me get this straight. You think killing those guys is funny?” Arthur nodded with a small smile.

Nothing left to lose? A fucking comedy?

What about me?

“I do. And I’m tired of pretending that it’s not.”

“I...I think I understand. You did this to what… start a movement?”

“Oh come on Mur-ray. Do I look like the type of clown to start a movement? I killed those guys because they were awful! Everybody is awful these days. It’s enough to make anyone crazy.”

“Ah, so that’s it you’re crazy. That’s your defense? What would your family think about you? About this?”

“Well my mother’s gone, I don’t have a father, and I know my doll face wouldn’t judge me.” Arthur waves to the camera and winks. “Hi honey!”

Oh god.

“Well I’ll tell you this not everyone… not everyone is awful… just like your eh… dollface.” Arthur glares at Murray. “You’re awful Murray.” “Me? I’m awful. Oh yeah? How am I awful?”

“Playing my video. Inviting me to come on the show. You just wanted to make fun of me. And she knew it too. Oh my dollface told me to watch out. You’re just like the rest of them!”

“Now you don’t know the first thing about me pal. Look what happened because of what you did. You think your girl will take you now? There are riots out there. Two policemen are in critical condition. You’re laughing. You’re laughing! Someone was killed today because of what you did!”

Arthur nods his head smiling. “I know.”

“(Y/n). Is he joking?” Jessica asks watching the screen. “I- I don’t know. I hope so.”

“How about another joke Murray?”

“No I think we’ve had enough of your jokes!”

“What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash?!”

Arthur screams in a rage. “Oh honey. No.”

“I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU GET! YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE!” Arthur pulls out a revolver and shoots Murray in the head.

Jessica and I scream and I cover my eyes with my hands. Arthur proceeds to stand, shoot Murray two more times, and skips to the camera. “And remember that-“ the program cuts blank.

“(Y/n)?” Jessica rests her hand on my shoulder. “I-I need to find him. He’s not safe.” “Are you kidding me? You aren’t safe! He’s going to come after you!” I grab my purse and rush to the door. “He won’t hurt me.” (Y/n)! No stop! WAIT!” Jessica tries to chase after me but fails.

I race into the burning streets seeing chaos all around Gotham. I see a police car pass me and everything goes in slow motion.

Arthur sits in the back of the car smiling at the burning city. “Arthur.” I’m not sure why, but I race after the car withholding my Clown.

Suddenly an abundance crashes into the police car.

“Move! I need to get to him! MOVE NOW!” I come to Arthur’s body laying limp on the hood of the car. “No Arty. No! I’m so sorry. You’re right darling. You’re right! Everyone is just awful! I’m so sorry I didn’t see it!”

A hand comes up and clasps my cheek. “Aw dollface. Would you just look at how beautiful?” I press my face into his hand smiling. “You’ve got blood on you mouth.” I giggle getting an idea.

I take my pointer fingers and run the blood up his cheeks creating his faded red smile. “Much better.” Arthur smiles and kisses me passionately eating cheers from his followers. “Call me Joker darling.” I nod smiling at my love. He is finally free. He has nothing else to lose! Not until Arkham came and stole him in the following hours.

•

I drink another cup, and then another, plus a bottle, then another cup. I stumble to the elevator clicking the top button. The chime soon dings and I strut off up onto the stairs leading towards the roof.

I see the city lights in the sky illuminating others hopeful dreams that will only get crushed in Gotham. No one ever thrives in this city. Not if you’re someone who is a regular.

I giggle sipping my bottle and waltzing over to overlook the city. “How could you leave me here? HOW FUCKING COULD YOU?!” I scream into the darkened night. I look down to see Gotham still in the chaos caused by Arthur’s big reveal.

I laugh and jump on the edge. “You said you loved me.” I picked up one of my feet and hop to the other giggling. “You said you’d never leave me.” I edge closer.

I could do it. I could just fall.

I pick my foot off the edge and hover it over the big city. My breath catches.

Do it. There isn’t a reason to wake up if you don’t have him now.

“Okay.” I step one inch closer ready to plunge.

“Careful. It’s a long way down. You might look like an angel, but I’m sure you won’t sprout wings to save yourself.”

I spin around peering into the darkness of the night.

“Who’s there?” I slur out.

Footsteps grow and a red clad pants leg emerged from the shadows. I follow the long skinny leg up the body to the face finding it painted with my kings features.

I shake my head and start laughing. “No. No. Stop it! They took you! YOU LEFT ME!”

His smile drops and he walks closer. “Darling. It’s me. Joker.” I laugh and turn around starting to fall forward into the air… right until someone’s arms wrap around my waist pulling me off the edge entirely.

“Are you an idiot (y/n)?!” His voice boomed as he screams in my face. I stare at his eyes and see my entire past. My love. My home.

“Arthur?”

He looks down slightly and shakes his head with a small smile. “Sure love. It’s me.” I cling to him and let my tears flow. My love. He is home.

#arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck #arthur x reader #arthur fleck x reader #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker x reader #joker #joaquin phoenix imagine #joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix x reader #clown #gotham #gotham city

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robinrunsfiction · 5 years

Note

Consider..Demon!Gerard (he’s such a sweetheart,,calls herbsugar,,darling-also super shady tho)finds the reader dying (mugged maybe?)And brings her back to life(the afterlife??)she lives with him now because thats what happens when a demon saves u ig?Anyways theyre kinda falling in love,,she falls asleep on him on the couch one night,,the next night what do u know things happen and things are said and they end up making out in their underwear in her room,, suuper fluffy,, they fall asleep

Have You Heard the News That You’re Dead?

Pairing: Demon!Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: TeenRequested By: AnonWord Count: ~2,400Author’s Note: Hi, my name is Robin and I am physically incapable of writing a short story, but this is super super late so I hope that makes up for it! I use the prompt “Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.” from @writing-prompt-s as my guide for this one. Also TW: for mentions of death, but if you didn’t get that from the ask, I can’t help you.

You always knew you were different. You could tell the vibe you gave off wasdifferent of that of everyone else. Dogs growled or ran away when you walkeddown the street. Old ladies would clutch their pearls. If it hadn’t been likethat for as long as you could remember, it would be alarming to say the least.What you weren’t aware of was the fact that most people had a guardian angellooking out for them, and you had a guardian demon.

That’s not to say it made you a bad person, you just had a different way of moving through life. Sure trouble found you more often than others, but you were still having a hell of a good time. That is until the night you stumbled alone out of that bar in a drunken stupor. You’d be fine you reasoned. You were always fine. Until that guy with a knife appeared and you didn’t have any money left to give him and that answer angered him, and then you were bleeding on the ground.

The last thing you saw was a man with black eyes and black hair and a pale face running up, muttering obscenities under his breath, clearly panicked. All youcould wonder was why there was no one to look out for you at that moment.

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t familiar in a room you’d never seen. You sat upand saw your shirt still had the hole from where you’d been stabbed, but yourskin was unbroken underneath. You had been certain you were dying on that street. Was this some kind of weird hospital? Had you been in a coma for years? What was going on?

You got out of the bed and moved quietly toward the door. As you wandered down the dark hallway, you could hear music playing. Following the sound, you found yourself in a living room, where someone, a man with black hair, sat with his back to you.

“‘Scuse me,” you started and he turned to look at you with those same black eyes you saw when you were on the street. “What the fuck?” you gasped asyou backed away. “Where am I? Where did you take me?” You demanded.

He sat down the book he was reading and strode over to you. “My name isGerard. I’m your guardian demon and for the sake of honesty, its my fault you’redead.”

“I’m dead?!” You shrieked. “Demon? Am I in hell?!”

“Not exactly. You’re at my place, which dimensionally speaking, is earth-adjacent… on the hell side. Come sit down, I’ll explain everything.”

“No! I wanna go home!”

Gerard winced. “That’s the thing sugar, this is your home now.”

Gerard had to rush to help you sit down, as your legs seemingly were not working at the moment and you looked like you were about to collapse.

“You see,” he started once you were seated, “most of you humans have guardian angels. A few of you lucky ones get us, guardian demons.”

“How is that lucky? I’m doomed to hell before I even get a crack at life?” Youargued.

“Oh you aren’t doomed, you’re destined to become a demon as well. Knowing you guarding another luck human soul until its time they join our ranks.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“You weren’t supposed to be dead yet. I fucked up.”

“Shocker.”

Gerard descended upon you, his face inches from yours. “Oh sugar, didn’t I dowell for the last however many years? Didn’t you have a life anyone could wishfor?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just swallowed thickly.

“I thought so,” he said righting himself. “Besides, my duty to you is not relieved now that you are deceased. We need to keep you hidden here so management doesn’t know that I-”

“Fucked up and let me die.”

Gerard glared down at you. “Exactly. But don’t worry sugar, I intend to keeptaking the best care of you. I promise you that.”

Despite Gerard’s explanation of events you still weren’t totally convinced he wasn’t full of shit. That was until he left you alone in the living area for a whileand you snuck over to the window to look out.

His apartment was a couple stories up on a busy street. But instead of the usualbustle of cars and people there were what could only be described as creatures.

Sure some of them, like Gerard, looked human, save for the black eyes, or horns sticking out of their hair. Some looked like something you’d read about in ahorror novel. You watched wide eyed as they passed along the sidewalk belowyou, going about their demonic business.

“Believe me now?” Gerard asked, startling you away from the window.

“Sure,” you said sitting down again. It was all too much to take. “But what am Igonna until my destined death day?”

“Think of it as if its one of those days you called out sick from work so you couldsit and watch hours of TV.”

“I’m doomed to watch Judge Judy and Maury forever?! I mean one day is fine, but for eternity?!”

“No, anything you want to watch, read, listen to, its all at your disposal,” heexplained.

“Will I need to do live human stuff like… eat or sleep again?”

“Totally optional,” he said. “Just like all other carnal needs.”

You just rolled your eyes and went to examine the bookshelf. Not surprisingly itwas filled with books on the occult, as well as a lot on history, art and music.

“’Bout what I expected,” you said running your fingers over the spines of thebooks, “for a demon.” When you glanced up Gerard was watching youintently and it made you shiver involuntarily.

“Help yourself to any of them. I have to go meet up with some associates. Don’tanswer the door if anyone comes around, remember, you’re alive.”

You just rolled your eyes as you pulled a book off the shelf and sat down to read.

You had no idea how long had passed, time being more of a human construct it would appear by the lack of clocks in the apartment. Or maybe they weren’t andGerard’s lack of time management was the cause of your current, or ratherpermanent, state of being.

Eventually you got up and watched the demons on the street for a while, then wandered through the rest of the apartment. Who knew Demons would be so sensible as to have guest bedrooms? The closet will full of clothes that seemed to be similar to the style you like while you were alive. You changed out of the shirt you died in, a thought that made you shudder, and into one that was less holey.

Moving on you noted there was no bathroom, but that made sense given what he had said about things that were “optional”. The kitchen was impressivelystocked with rich foods and fancy wines and liquors. Maybe Gerard liked toentertain? Well he wasn’t doing that impressive of a job of it right now youthought as you found yourself getting bored.

As if on cue, Gerard burst through the door. “Miss me sugar?” He askedas he breezed into the kitchen where you were still standing, feeling slightlyguilty, like you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on sugar,” he said slinking up to you and grazing your cheek with hisfingers, “is that anyway to talk to your roommate?”

You made a disgusted noise and rolled your eyes before pushing past him.

“This is gonna be a fucking long eternity,” he muttered under his breath.

The thing you most enjoyed about not being alive was similar to your favorite part of being alive: sleeping. You would sleep as long as you wanted without any repercussions or judgement from others. Gerard certainly didn’t mind, as this left more time for him to do whatever he wanted since he no longer had to watch over you so closely.

Soon though he realized he missed it. He was fond of you, as he had to be based on the nature of the work, but he always enjoyed making trouble for the people who pissed you off during the day. Now he watched as a dark cloud started to gather over your waking hours, the shelves of books and movies and music no longer drawing your interest like it used to. One evening he walked into the living room to find you staring blankly at the wall.

“Novelty of it has worn off, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yea, and the permanence is setting in,” you sighed.

Gerard sat down next to you. “I am truly sorry. You probably don’t believe me,but its true.”

“What happened that night?” You asked as you let your head fall against hisshoulder and he moved his arm so it was around you.

“Remember that guy that was bothering you at the bar earlier in the night?”

“Yea…”

“I scared him off, that’s why he left you alone. He found someone else and theywere gonna hook up in the bathroom and I made sure that the whiskey he wasdrinking lived up to its reputation.”

You chuckled at the thought of the douche who had been talking such big game all night not being able to perform.

“I got carried away, but I’ve always hated guys like that,” Gerard admitted.“There really is a special place in hell for them.”

“Good,” you said, as you settled into him even more. A small smile tugged at his lips. “What else did you do for me?”

Gerard reclined to get more comfortable as he launched into his favorite stories of when he dealt out cosmic retribution on your behalf.

“You’re evil, but like, good evil,” you hummed as you slid down so you were laying against his chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively.

The next thing you knew you were being awakened by a hammering at the door. You both sat bolt upright and looked at each other.

“Gerard, you home?” a voice called from the other side.

“Go hide in your room,” he whispered and you hurried off and Gerard went to thedoor.

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked coolly.

“You got a hot little succubus in there?” Frank asked trying to look past Gerard.

“What’s going on Frank?” Gerard asked again, sounding more exasperated.

“Management is starting to ask about your human. No one has seen her in a while. You still keeping track of her?”

“Of course,” Gerard lied easily. “She’s just been dealing with some shit, so she’sbeen laying low.”

Frank nodded skeptically. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to have you get fired,that would mean more work for me,” he laughed. “Besides, you know what happens when you get fired.”

Gerard nodded, trying not to let the nerves show. He remembered the last time another demon got fired. He couldn’t sleep for weeks it shook him so bad.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, I know you got someone in there,” Frank smirked as he left.

Gerard went back to your room and found you hiding in the closet. “You’re good.”

“What’s going on?” You asked getting up.

“I’m gonna have to go topside and act like you’re still alive, or else I’m as deadas you.”

“Demons can die?”

“Not exactly the same, but it sure as shit ain’t pretty when it happens,” Gerard muttered.

“I wish I could help.”

“Not your fault, sugar,” he said as he headed back toward the front door. “I gottaclean up my mess for a while.”

“When will you be back?”

“You’ll barely know I’m gone,” he winked.

You spent what felt like forever sitting around, bored and lonely and thinking.Thinking for hours about what Gerard was risking keeping you here, and everything he had done for you your whole life. When the door finally opened again, you jumped up excitedly.

“Hey sugar,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yea, we’re good for a while,” he said shrugging off his jacket. “I don’t thinkanyone will be asking questions anytime soon.”

“Good,” you said as you walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug.

Gerard stiffened momentarily, surprised by the affection, but then softened andwrapped his arms around you as well. “You decided you like me then?”

“Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome, but yea, I think I do kinda like you after all. I have really did have the time of my life when I was alive, and I know you’re tothank for a lot of that,” you said before leaning up and placing a kiss on hischeek.

When you pulled back, he was looking down at you fondly. He reached up and ran his fingers along your jaw and leaned in and kissed you deeply. His lips tasted like coffee and red hots, as his arms wrapped around you and held you closer to him. You ran your hands through his dark hair and allowed his tongue to slip in against yours.

You pulled back and Gerard looked at you in confusion until you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along back to the bedroom. He started to undo the buttons of his shirt as you peeled yours off as well. You pulled Gerard back to you again and your lips met as you tumbled against the bed. Gerard held himself over you as he undid his pants, and you slipped out of yours as well. Clad only in your respective undergarments, you continued your heated make out session, tongues moving together, hands roaming over bare skin, marks left upon necks. After what could have been 10 minutes, or maybe a decade, Gerard pulled back and looked down at you “(YN), I’ve never felt like this before,” he whispered.

“What, demons don’t do emotions?”

“Yea, but not usually love.”

You looked up at him and grinned. “Yea, I think I’d like to spend eternity here with you.”

Gerard grinned and rolled over to your side. You curled against him as he wrapped his arms around you and you both fell asleep peacefully.

#Anon #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #demon!gerard way #demon gerard way x reader

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mcrcelo · 5 years

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○○○ — I’ll Be The Father You Never Were — ○○○

Marcelo's head ricocheted against the ceramic floor causing stars that would usually glaze the night sky to dance in his line of vision. The last thing he saw before complete darkness was his father's fist charging at him like an angry bull.

02/18/2019

A choking gasp racked through Marcelo’s chest, forcing him to bolt into an upright position and frantically scan his old bedroom. He finally found the concerned gaze observing him from the frame of the door. “When did you get in and why are you watchin’ me like I’m one of ya brizzas?” His brother E.J ignored him, striding further into the room. When he reached the foot of the California king-sized bed, an uneasy grimace played upon his wide lips. “You still have those nightmares?" There was no point denying the obvious, so Marcelo nodded slowly before changing the subject. “You didn’t have to come, EJ. I know you have a game tomorrow and Barcelona needs their best midfielder if they got a chance at winning against the Lyons.”

“And I’ll be there, but I wasn't going to let you face him by yourself without backup. Mami and Aiyana were tossing bottles of Chateau Petrus back like it was Wray & Nephew when I got in this morning. Yanna told me how you went all postal so I thought it was best if they had a girls day. They didn’t need to deal with pop after that.” Marcelo’s eyes dropped from E.J at the disappointment evident in his brother’s voice. “I just been tossing ah pebble of my fury at a lake, letting my rage turn into ripples at the wrong people, pero te prometo que no volverá a suceder. Marcelo assured moving off the bed and slipping into his Balenciaga slides. “I know it won’t, but you still need to get that under control. It’s not good for you or anyone else’s health.” E.J said as he wrapped an arm around Marcelo's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “He’s here isn’t he?” His brother wasn’t the type to show physical affection unless it was absolute. "Yeah, he got in about two hours ago. Juanita had the staff serve him breakfast so you could get a little more sleep. We both figured you weren’t in a rush to see him. He's waiting for you in the billiard room with Uncle Alberto." Though he was haunted by one of the many dark memories that would penetrate his dreams, Marcelo was thankful for the three hours of sleep he managed to get. His night consisted of Bonita assaulting his eardrums when he finally made the effort to call her. “Me gustaría hablar con mi hijo solo,” Eliseo spoke after Marcelo and E.J made it to the right wing of the house. "Anything you have to say to him you can say in front of me." Eliseo's impassive expression didn't falter, but Marcelo caught the scorching stare E.J received. He gave his brother a nod, letting him know it was okay. They held each other’s gaze before E.J sighed. “Alright, I’ll be down the hall,” He informed as he started towards the door with Alberto following behind. Eliseo wasn’t into formal greetings unless a check is involved. He was about business, and that’s exactly what he got down to once they were alone. "I already have my people looking into the leak. Whoever is responsible will be dealt with accordingly. What I need you to tell me is how you could be so stupid, huh? When she told you she was pregnant, you should’ve come to me instead of taking matters into your own hands. I’m sure her parents would have agreed bringing a child into the world at your age wasn’t a good idea, especially with how dysfunctional you all relationship were. Do you even know if it really is y—”

“Her name is Xiomara, not it,” Marcelo growled, his father instinct kicking in which Eliseo merely scoffed at. "How do you know Xiomara is your child? Zyla really went out of her way to hide Xiomara from you when you were already aware she was pregnant, why not just tell you she decided to keep it? I mean, you didn’t do that well of a job hiding your infidelities and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. It'd be easier to put this responsibility on the person who she was publicly with at the time. Her family could handle this kind of backlash better than their daughter taking on the label as a —”

"You're kiddin', right?” Marcelo interposed, “My past is dirtier than one of Uncle Alberto's whorehouses and most of it is out for the world to see. If I was Zyla, from the type of family she comes from, the last thing I would do is pin a baby on me. Besides, I bet they’ve seen the video of you draggin' my mother out of that elevator like she was a rag doll. Let’s not forget abuelo made headlines when he straight up murdered your mother. Dig deep enough, and they might just find that police report you made disappear on how you almost took mines out as well. Yeah, we got dough outta our asses, but that doesn’t make up for what our family is known for. I wouldn't purposely want anything like that attached to my name. Drop that Maury Povich show you’re trying to kick up because it doesn't make any sense." He retorted through clenched jaws. Marcelo didn't know why he felt the need to take up for Zyla's honor against his father's accusations. Of course, his feelings for her were as volatile as their relationship was. He knew he loved her, but he hated how they couldn't be together. She came from respectable people and she had a future that Marcelo wasn’t sure he would live to participate in. Plus, he couldn't allow her to be strangled by his or his family's scandalous reputation. Unbeknown to most, he had intentionally sabotaged his own relationship. Too selfish to give up the only thing that made him happy at the time, he’d push Zyla until she had enough; Marcelo just didn't expect they would end on her being pregnant and him almost attacking her over the fate of their unborn child. Eliseo’s eyes blazed with animosity, his stony persona dropping the minute Marcelo brought up his deceased mother."Just because you might have gone half on some bastard child, doesn't mean you can talk to me like you’re a man! No toleraré la misma falta de respeto como lo hace tu madre! Since you're positive that the kid is yours, how do you plan to take care of her? She didn't come out of my nutsack so I hope you don't expect me to provide for her like she did. I’ve enabled you enough to the point that you think you can do and say whatever you want!"

“Habilitado yo? Everything you've given me has been nothing but your way of apologizing for how poorly you've treated me. Aiyana and E.J experienced your wrath, but I always got the worst of it. And you want to know why? Because whenever you look at me, it's like staring in the mirror, I'm everything you despise about yourself: the only difference between us is that I didn't sit back like a coward when my mother was getting beat as if she was a grown man. Now stop actin’ like I’m the same eleven year old you can put through a floor ‘cause I’m not" Marcelo ridiculed, “Nah, I’ll beat ya like ah nigga on the street that owes me some funds.” Eliseo's muscles stiffened, his head cocking to the side. “Cojones gettin’ too big for your own good, mijo.” He laughed condescendingly as he continued to instigate the suffocating tension. “You think I use to fucked you up back then? When I’m done with you now a doctor won’t be able to bring you back.” That’s all it took to set Marcelo off. He leaped forward, a demonic rage twisting his features. His brown orbs fired flames as he swung his fist against his father's jaw. Eliseo stumbled back before lunging at Marcelo, and their battle for dominance commenced. They wrestled one another against walls, the sound of knuckles colliding with bones filled the air. E.J and Alberto charged into the room, separating the father and son. Alberto held Eliseo as E.J captured Marcelo’s forearms in a tight grip. Spitting blood on the floor as he breathed heavily, Marcelo gazed at his father with hatred. “Me and mines good without you, my nigga! You don’t gotta worry about providing a damn thing because lu’l shawty won’t even be at your funeral.” He roared as E.J hauled him out of the room. At that moment, Marcelo made up his mind. He didn’t know how but he was going to be the father Eliseo never was to both of his children. "Come on Marcelo I’m going to stop at your house so you can pack some clothes, you're coming with me back to Spain for a bit to chill out. " E.J calmed, leading him out the front door and towards his rental car.

#. ⬩ * мarcelo . / developмenт.#. ⬩ * мarcelo . / para.#. ⬩ * мarcelo . / qυeυed.#im in the process of moving ooc #activity should pick up Friday

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lustwatch-blog · 7 years

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I loved the fic you wrote! It was so good! I was kinda like whaaaaa at your comment of going darker! I hate to ask, but I kinda want to see where it goes! Jamieson getting on his last nerve on sharing, jealousy, betrayal, the gruesome inhumanity!

I got to this one first because it’s something that stuck out a lot to me and would be the quickest to write as I already have many ideas for this sequel and even a series of future fights between Mako and James, they may or may not team up against them etc. Continue reading under the cut for the prequel mentioned above. This sequel is about Mako taking a personal trip and James being left in charge of their “toy” who’d began to show a favoritism to the lanky junker. Nsfw.

Mako growled lowly, kicking your cage. He’d become more aggressive lately, he bit harder and started finishing inside more, he’d even forced it in your ass once or. . a dozen or so times. And after, he’d send rat to get a plan b pill and force it down your throat, grumbling about not wanting any of your brats or bastards running around. James on the other hand. . something more brewed.

When Mako wasn’t watching your intersections, he’d make small almost invisible gestures to you daily. During the rare chances you got to have sex alone, he’d kiss your neck and collar, tracing your back sweetly despite the fucking itself being rough. He’d request you’d ride him because he could tell you yourself had some confusing feelings as you’d resist at first but when you rode him, your hands gently pressed to his chest as your hips rocked on their own, sometimes you’d whimper his name or diminutives of it without him having to ask.

It was obvious to all of you something was wrong, but Hog hardly had the time to worry. An important meeting with his old gang of aboriginal bandits requested him as a guest of honor, probably hoping to utilize some of his services he did on the side.

“3 days.” He said as he loaded up his Harley, “Make sure she takes those pills. I don’t want any mistakes running around.” He would taunt lowly, “We already have one locked up in a cage.” He smirked as he got on and road off without another word.

The first several hours were awkward, neither of you knew what to say and if you did you had no clue on how to say it. It was obvious there was tension. Around dinner time he got more antsy, finally letting you out.

“You can stretch an’ eat.” He said, “If ya run I’ll kill ya.” He muttered as he walked off to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge for snacks to give to you. Nothing of nutritional sustenance of course, but you weren’t in any place to turn down food, especially with your stomach grumbling as it was since they forgot to give you lunch.

“Junkrat...” You called him by his nickname as its what he was most notorious for, “C..could I..” You began as his face burned, “Have a shirt..please..anything.” you sniffed softly. They always kept you naked.

“Not like we got mucha those lyin round. You seen what hog and I wear.” He said before his eyes caught your large orbs, filled with tears. “But I’ll find ya something. I’m tireda’ lookin at that ugly old scar.” He said coldly as he rummaged through old drawers and cabinets, having lead you to his room by your wrist.

He wasn’t rough though...It was almost like he was embarrassed to even be holding your hand. When he finally found you a shirt, he even turned away to let you put it on.

“Thank you, Junkrat..”

“When we’re alone call me James...” He insisted softly, his face red. You initially assumed it was from the sun burns he got frequently, but realized soon enough what had really been going on.

“James. . .” You said nervously, “You know you’re not like him.”

“Let’s get you back in the cage.” He sighed, rolling his eyes a bit as he nudged you.

“You’re kind.”

“Stop it...”

“James...”

“I said stop!” He yelled, shoving you onto the floor, his body on top of yours as he glared down, “You won’t trick me!” You knew he wasn’t. . . the smartest, there would be no point trying to verbally convince him.

You reached up, tracing his freckled face softly before pulling him down for a kiss, his eyes going wide as he pulled away.

“James...it’s okay..” You whimpered, worried that these feelings you were developing had really been all in your head.

“Just..get back to your cage.”

“No.” You sniffed softly, “It’s cold and hard and I want to sleep in a bed.”

“Yeah right.”“With you...” His face furrowed, you...willingly? wanted to sleep with him.

“I suppose watching you closer wouldn’t hurt...”

You wondered why he wasn’t forcing you to have sex with him yet, he could do it if he wanted and you couldn’t stop him. You had sex with him a lot when Mako was around whether you wanted it or not, and now he just slept, holding you close so you ‘couldn’t run away’ or something.

You were in his bed, alone, in his clothes. . .

You turned so that you could hold his chest nuzzling into it softly as he glanced down tiredly.

“James...Tomorrow I’d like a bath.”

“Yeah..you stink anyways.” He frowned a bit, inhaling your scent as he nuzzled his nose into your hair with a soft blush.

He would give you whatever you wanted if he could phrase it to make it seem like it benefit him.

The clothes and the burn, the bed and his surveillance, the snacks and your breast? He’d commented that they were getting smaller as you lost weight not eating enough and he fed you more.

You began to wonder what you could get away with and started testing the sleepy rat.

“Can we go outside tomorrow?”“Yeah ya look pasty.”

“Can I have normal food.”

“Wouldn’t want ya getting fat offa junk.” He nodded a bit, yawning above you as he held you tighter. Your cheeks turned a soft pink as you smiled into his chest.

“Do we have to tell hog..?”

“Err. . No...” He thought as he glanced down at you, “Why?”

“I. . I wouldn’t want him feeling left out...” You lied, “Should we have sex?” You finally asked as his body grew warm.

“I’m tired.” He lied.

“Oh. . I just thought you were sharing me fair and equal...” you sighed as you kissed his chest

“What do you mean?” He squinted.

“Mako forces me all the time..” You pouted softly as he glared a bit, leaning down and kissing you deeply as you wrapped your arms around him with a sigh.

“Better make it even.” He said softly, almost..charmingly as you nodded and deepened the kiss, pulling him on top of you as he grew harder. grinding it against you with a growl.

“James~” You’d moan, spreading your legs for him. He had easy access, they never gave you underwear and you were only in a tshirt of his he never wore. He slept in boxers tonight, but was usually nude. Perhaps he was trying to be a gentleman, but at the sound of his name escaping your lips the blonde threw the gentleman act completely out the window.

He quickly sat up, pulling his stark erection and teasing your entrance with it, almost too long, you wanted it more and more. You figured he was just trying to get you to beg but he was biting his lip almost violently to hold back, he wanted your consent.

You smiled, “I want it Jamison..” he immediately sighed in relief as he pressed in roughly, leaning down and kissing at your neck , leaving love bites all over. His thrusts were rapid and animalistic, for the sake of getting off and that alone. . . until he leaned up to kiss you and met his eyes to yours causing him to stop altogether.

“James..?” You blushed, panting softly as you loosened the grip on his shoulders. He smiled a bit, not a toothy hyena like grin, but a soft smile, enough to make your heart flutter.

He leaned down, kissing you deeply as you ran your fingers through his hair, twirling and gripping the locks passionately. His erratic thrusts turned to longing and deep grinds, picking up pace and keeping a pattern as you moaned ‘There!’ or ‘Don’t stop~!’ against his lips.

This went on for hours, and the two of you finally finished around sunrise, having had cum more than enough each, finally falling asleep tangled in each other sweetly.

After that, the rest of the weekend was similar, you’d bathe together, cook for him and not spit in his food, make love before and after every meal and sleep in his bed. You even cleaned his room a bit to show you were happy. But on the last night the love making was deeper, more longing as you both knew it’d be a while until you could do this again.

Rat worried about his temper, and how he’d feel seeing his new love with his best friend as they had to pretend everything was normal.

You worried about not being by his side, sleeping in his arms and being forced to fuck that sadistic man that held you captive. But. . it was better than them fighting because you knew it’d be to the death, and you weren’t willing to gamble with who might win either.

“James...promise to kiss me when he’s not around?”

“Anything, cactus flower.” He sighed as he leaned down, kissing you softly before locking your cage with a sigh.

UH OH ANYONE NOTICE HE DIDN’T GIVE HER THOSE MEDS

TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF MAURY if I get more requests to continue this saga

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lightecojak2004 · 7 years

Text

Que Sera, Sera Chapter 59 summary

Chapter starts from the last one with Sun saying Ran and Joon have the same blood type with Hani taken aback thinking what did she say? Hani tries to dismiss it as a coincidence since a lot of people have the same blood type. Sun says "Yeah, it is" and makes Hani stop cleaning her pants. Sun Gyeong says that she forgot to do something and that they'll eat another time. Sun leaves and Hani looks worried.

Sun's driving home wondering if it's true and then keeps telling herself there's no way. She thinks about the phone call she had with Joon where he asked why can't he be together with Hani and why can't he be Ran's dad? She thinks that it's impossible because it was over 4 years ago when Ran was conceived and then thinks about the man Hani was with when it happened. Then she remembered when she called Hani 4 years ago pestering her about the men's clothing she found next to her washing machine which made her realize that she was seeing a guy that night. Joon drunkenly chimed in to ask Hani for more soju (alcohol) while calling Hani noona. Sun couldn't recognize his voice then, but knew that being called noona meant that she was seeing somebody younger than her at the time. Sun screeches to a halt and it dawns on her that it was likely Joon's voice and he would have been the younger guy Hani was with that night, but she's still in complete disbelief that it's possible. She thinks about her promise to her deceased father and tells him in her head not to worry and that she'll make sure to keep her promise to him.

The next day at Sun's place, Duk Jin feels sick and was wondering if there was shrimp in the buffet? He asks Sun if she can take a look at him and Sun's thinking to herself and muttering "No, I don't think so." Duk Jin asks where did she put the painkillers and Sun tells him he can look for them because she has a headache as well. Duk Jin asks what's wrong with her because she's been acting *nervous*? Sun says she's not nervous and to just leave her alone and storms off while Duk Jin is wondering where he put the medicine box? Sun is in the bathroom frustrated and knows that all the evidence she has is just circumstantial at best, but still wonders if it's the truth? Then she sees the toothbrush Ran used (it's hers given that it's smaller than the other one along with the color) and decides she needs to be certain. She starts looking around for Joon's old toothbrush he used there when she hears a loud thud and sees that Duk Jin collapsed.

Hani and Joon see Duk Jin in the hospital. Apparently Duk Jin had an allergic reaction to the shrimp he ate at the wedding and was gone for the weekend. Hani was worried because he didn't come to the office and Sun Gyeong wasn't picking up her phone. Duk Jin says that except for the hospital food, he's fine and asks about Ran. Hani says she's still at daycare. Joon notices that he hasn't seen his sister yet and wonders where she is? Duk Jin says she was feeling frustrated and said she needed some fresh air. He suggests checking the break room.

During that weekend, Sun Gyeong sent in Joon and Ran's toothbrushes for a DNA test hoping to confirm if Joon was actually the father based on their saliva. The results will be given to her soon and she tells herself she can't start doubting the eventual results. Hani finds her and asks why didn't she answer the phone since she didn't even know Duk Jin was in the hospital? Sun doesn't respond and Hani asks why is she acting this way and Sun interjects to ask Hani if she's living with Joon? Hani's stunned and can't answer while Sun asks since when? Then she wonders "Since when have you deceived me?" (It's written in red, likely to show that Sun's incredibly angry right now). Hani's heart is beating loud and says that she planned to tell her everything during Chuseok, but she's wondering to herself how much does Sun know? Sun asks what did you say? Then Sun asks if Hani thought she'd ask for permission in front of all the adults and if Hani thought she'd just automatically accept Joon and her being together? Hani says she wants to bring Joon in and they'll talk about everything after Duk Jin leaves the hospital. Sun slaps her hand away and says she doesn't want to listen and even though it might be hard for her with raising Ran, end things with Joon immediately. Hani's stunned and thinks that "as expected, it hurts." (I'm thinking the reason for her reaction is that she's in love with Joon at this point and doesn't want to separate). She tries to tell Sun that it was never too hard to raise Ran and that she never tried to force Joon to be with her. Sun asks if she's not going to get rid of Joon and lose *her friendship with her forever?* Hani's wondering *if she really wants to go that far?* Then she says she'll tell her everything, but doesn't she care about Joon? Hani says that she thought of Sun Gyeong as family. Sun agrees and said she thought they all had a relationship like siblings and that Hani betrayed her trust. Hani says she didn't mean to and that she used to think of Joon like he was a brother. Sun asks if she felt the same way about him now, but Hani can't respond and says sorry. Sun Gyeong then says Joon is moving out immediately and that he'll move in with her again, but Hani says that choice should be up to Joon. Sun tries to get a rebuttal, but her phone rings.

It's the laboratory that did the DNA test and they can say with 99.99% accuracy the paternity is a match which means that Joon's the father ($500 says somebody will post a Maury Povich gif in the comments when this gets translated on the site). Sun Gyeong nearly collapses in shock with Hani asking if she's okay? Sun's thinking "they didn't, how did they?" (she's wondering how could Joon and Hani have had sex?). Sun's furious and tells Hani that she crossed the line and that if she won't leave Joon, she needs to leave the company. Hani asks what and Sun yells at her to get out now!!

End

#que sera sera #translations #summary

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frankeyss-blog · 6 years

Text

1st Draft “ CANT CHEAT DESTINY

Can’t Cheat Destiny

I’ve never told this story before but I think it’s time you all know the truth. It’s been exactly twenty years since the homeboy’s Mario’s sister died. I am not that same person anymore, and now that everyone that was in the incident is dead. Well, allow me to tell you what happened that night in early ‘98, Mr. Priest.

“Go ahead, I got all day son.”

But I don’t. So this is it. So please record it. Only to show their mother. I heard she ain’t doing too good, yeah? I don’t want to let her die without knowing the truth about her kids, ya know.

“Do what you need to do to make this place a better one once you pass, son.”

Well, this dude was a hard nigga, straight up. We called him Maury cause he always had random bitches telling him he their baby daddy. His real name was Mario though. He had mad short people trauma. He liked getting drunk and picking fights at parties, hitting on taken girls, try to drink the most and smoke the most. You know, it was all fun for us cause we’d known him so well that we didn’t take him seriously.

You know, we all grew up in Long Beach. Not the Belmont side, not the Bellflower, not even close to Signal Hill. We were from downtown right before they started remodeling the area closest to the port. Cause all that shit is nice now. Bar here, lounge there, wine tasting over here and a club in every block. Pine avenue is where people go lose their money now. Back in ‘97, when all three of us graduated high school, Pine avenue was the block you lost your life in. It was the crack spot, the whore house and the place you wouldn’t want to be without at least a fucking knife, man. Most people carried guns, most people had no bullets in them but I wouldn’t try to test nobody. I survived that shit cause I was from there. I messed with the right people and picked the right people to ignore. My mom was a drug user, my most loyal customer. She still owes me money to this day. Don’t laugh, I’m serious. Mario’s mom too.

I can’t tell you when I met Mario. I don’t remember. My earliest memory of him is, us drinking water at the Cesar Chavez Park out of a garden hose because we had ditched class. We were in second grade at the time and we used to go back to my house while my mom was at work and smoke the cigarette butts she left on the coffee table. Mario would always want to do some extra shit like drink my mom's liquor, burn shit for the fuck of it. It was never enough trouble for him. He would push me to get on a random bus and just cruise through the city. People gave no fucks back in the day you know. Things were probably worse back then but people weren’t as alert about it. I guess two seven year olds alone in a bus wasn’t important enough for anyone to notice or care. I was always about twice the size of Mario so people probably thought he was my little brother. Shit, only if they knew I was following his orders.

This was our way of life for the longest time. Doing whatever the fuck we wanted. Our moms didn’t care. At least, I didn’t think so back then. I had never met my father, and I think Mario’s left him when he was like two. So doing whatever we wanted to do made us feel like men. We got in trouble and shit but it was the only way we could experience and learn from life. Luckily, I was the only child. Mario had a little sister. About four years younger than him. She outgrew him when she was in 7th grade, he was a junior then. I never teased him about it cause it was that one thing that triggered him the most. Everyone else, though. We would be in school or at the park playing ball, and dudes be asking him like, Yo, where’s your sister at? I rather have her ass on my team! Me too, shit. I always had Mario’s back though, no matter what. These moments is what made Mario so feisty. He always needed to prove a point. I fought a lot of his fights and maybe I helped his ego grow because he always had someone to rely on.

On 9th grade, this fool joined a gang. Not any gang either, he had to go prove himself he was better than any other thug and drug dealer. He went ahead and joined the Crips. We always had an invitation to the gang because we lived in the neighborhood. All main heads knew us since we were children and whether we were in the gang or not they protected us, invited us to parties, they had our backs and we had theirs. No need to actually join the gang. I really wish Mario would’ve consulted me first. There I went helping him sell weed and hustle. We were already living the ghetto life, no need to have to wear blue so everyone knows you’re being a low life on purpose. I can tell you that Mario watched Scarface too many times. I remember the summer from Junior to Senior year was crazy. Everyday we would go to the local liquor and I would steal a few forties while he bought a swisher and a lighter. We would kick it at my house. Smoke my mom out. We’ll wait for his little sister to get out of summer school at noon and go fuck with the little youngsters from her middle school. She hated us, man. She was so ashamed of Mario but we gave no fucks, we were faded. She always stayed away from us as much as she could. I don’t blame her now. I don’t think I ever did. Mario would pick a couple fights, we’ll sell a few grams and recruit one or two kids a week. The main heads liked Mario but they also knew his ass wasn’t alone, there was a dumb nigga doing half his work for him, that was me. Like I said though, I didn’t care, I was having fun, Mario had his gat, I had my knife, we were cool.

Remember when I said, Mario never settled though. He always had to go do some extra shit.

Fast forward to when we were in senior year. High school wasn’t as bad. No one fucked with us because they knew they could die. That was the truth. Get your fucking brains blown out for talking shit or looking at someone the wrong way. If you carried a bandana that wasn’t blue, chances were you were going to get a few broken ribs after school that day.

We made it to winter break, that year of ‘97. Mario had the great idea of impressing his mom and stealing a car for her. When Mario told me about it, it wasn’t a plea for help, it was a plan, alright. This fool, had spotted a ‘64 impala on the other side of the city, closer to Wilmington. Don’t worry about Wilmington, just know that they don’t like crips.

It was December 22nd. Cold as fuck man, I had told my mom I was going to wal mart to get some christmas gift for one of my teachers. Mario had actually told his mom he was going to go get her a christmas present. I was wearing a black Steelers hoodie and he was wearing a bright blue Cowboys jacket.

We met at his house. Drank a forty with his mom. We smoked a spliff on our walk to the bus stop. I had never stolen a car before, this was some big boy shit. I assumed Mario knew what he was doing. Even though he seemed to have big balls, he would never approach something without at least knowing he had a chance to win or achieve his goal. I just followed Mario. I remember my hands stayed inside the pocket of my hoodie the whole ride there. Mario was talking about how this gangsta life was paying of. He was trying to go into moving bricks and maybe trying to hustle pussy in the hood. He wanted the life of scarface. Big mansions, big cars and fine bitches at his feet. If he made it, that meant I made it too. I was riding his same cloud. It’s been like that for so long.

We got to Wilmington, we get off the bus somewhere on Anaheim blvd and the beautiful six-four impala is right fucking there. The rims were shiny, the reflection of the moon laid peacefully on the chrome bumpers. The car was painted light brown. The hydraulics were painted blue and before I was done appreciating the beauty of the car Mario had already found a rock to break the window.

“Aye bro, nah. That’s so high key.” I remember saying to him.

“Don’t be a pussy.” he said to me.

“This ain’t our hood Maury. Can’t be fucking around.” I tried to convince him. I thought he had a plan. “How are you supposed to turn it on?”

“Hot wire it, nigga.”

“Nigga, cause you know how to hotwire a fucking car.” I replied.

Mario walked to the driver's side of the car and looked in. I stood a few feet in front of the head lights. He took his cowboy hoodie off and wrapped the rock around it. Lucky bastard broke the window off on the first try.

“Get in, bro. Here you go,” he said as he handed me what it seemed to be a 9 mm. I was first to jump inside the car. Went through the driver's side and slid to the passenger side. I don’t know for how long I turned behind my shoulder to see if anyone was coming from behind us but when I turned around to face forward, Mario was already on Drive mode. Talk about a rush. Nothing like it. At age 17, that shit’s better than sex, man. You feel like a giant amongst men. You feel like a wildfire around a bunch of dry weeds. Unstoppable. Until something bigger than you comes. Everything that goes up must come down, right?

“Dawg, I think I dropped my sweater back there,” he said, “Fuck it.”

Mario never told me the aftermath of the carjack with the gang. Two days after new years, I was kicking it with Tripple. The homeboy I told you about at the beginning. He was a crip too. His dad was a main head. We were smoking a cigarette in the patio of my apartment watching people walk by. Chill mode, no danger, everyone knows each other in the Projects.

“You heard about lil Maury, bro?” he opened.

“Nah, partied with him on new years. He went home with some bitch and I just came back home.”

“Remember the wheels that nigga stole?” he said.

“No shit. I was there with him.” I replied without hesitation to look hard.

“So my dad had beef with this OG from wilmas blood gang. Follow this shit though. They had squashed it about three months ago. Now, Mario left or dropped his bright ass blue sweater at that niggas porch. When my dad asked Mario if he had done it, which we all know he’s the only dumb ass that goes for the cowboys, he said nah. He said, he had stolen that shit from somewhere in LA.”

“So…” I didn’t want to assume what was going to happen to Mario.

“My pops is going to send him on a mission to prove himself a real gangster.”

“This foo just stole a car from an OG. What else does your dad want?” I was scared.

“Yeah, but he fucking lied. He’s a got to stab a motherfucker.” Tripple said this quietly as if his intention was not too make me worry. He had his head down because he knew this was going to affect me too.

“You can’t get him out of it?” I asked him without trying to sound like I was begging. My lips were the only warm part of my body because of the cigarette. My voice was all I could use at the moment.

Tripple looked at me in the eye and I noticed his eyes take note of my facial expression. He raised his eyebrows and said, “I already did. He was supposed to go shoot at some cops. Mario told him to send him out to do some shit so that he could prove to him, to my pops, he could be a main head.”

“Fuck, bro. Alright, thanks for the heads up.” That’s exactly what it was. A warning for me to be ready when Mario calls. Mario, always with the extra shit.

“I’ll be there too, homie. My dad wants me to make sure everything goes smooth.” Tripple said as he took a few steps away from me to crush his cigarette butt on the ground.

That must’ve happened around three p.m. because my mom wasn’t back from work yet. I remember I waited for Mario’s call all day. When he didn’t hit me up by ten at night, I decided to smoke a joint with my mom to release some stress and knock out. Even though it was a weekend, I didn’t feel like turning up. I remember that feeling of insecurity.

My mom woke me up that same night around one a.m. telling me Mario was on the phone. I got up and asked him what’s up. He knew that I knew because he was with Tripple already. I grabbed my knife, the same one as always. I dressed all in black and waited for them to come through.

It takes five minutes to walk from Mario’s house to mine. These dudes made it in like 2 minutes, I remember. This is how I knew they were nervous as fuck.

I ain’t no crip, but still our handshake was and then we walked through and out of our hood. There were a few parties poppin off. This was no time to fuck around though. Don’t matter how cool or how close you think you are to your crip gang. This needed to happen. If Mario didn’t come through, man. Crip motherfuckers, back in the day, were the real deal. They gave no fucks, they were violent and proud of it. Who knows where Mario was going to end up if he didn’t pull through this one.

Tripple suggested we got some forties and pack a few bowls before we acted on anything. So Tripple already had weed. So just like the old days, we walk to a liquor store and Mario goes in distracting the cashier by buying swishers to roll blunts and I went stealing some forties.

We walked a few blocks and everything seemed so alive, everyone was partying. It was the weekend after new years. It was going to be hard to keep all this shit low key so we decided to post up on top of the bathroom building inside the Cesar Chavez Park. Yup, the same place Mario and I used to go run to first after ditching elementary. Doors were always open because of crackheads breaking in to sleep in there. This was like five miles off of our crib.

We started cracking jokes, we started sipping on our forties and we never really talked about why we were doing this. It was part of our life, this was normal in our hood. We were those niggas doing dirt shit in the middle of the night. We were the reason people locked their doors that night.

I don’t remember the time but I do remember the streets started getting quieter. Less and less bodies were seen on the sidewalk. Car lights started to disappear and we all knew why we were there. We stood up on the edge of this two story building and posted like alligators waiting for prey to step into our swamp.

About twenty minutes went by and I remember checking my watch then. 1: 45 a.m.

Everything seemed blurry. All three of us were pretty much crossfaded. The building felt ten stories high and I remember stepping back from the ledge. Tripple was looking down. His vision was stuck on something down there, or maybe he was just drunk but I was paying more attention to Mario. His toes were in the air, his heels balancing his whole body on the edge of the building. Always making everything more dangerous than it has to.

“There. White sweater.” Mario said to himself.

“Let’s go kid. Now you got your chance to be raw.” Tripple said. “I can’t tell if it’s a guy or a girl.”

Any other day we would’ve laughed but not today.

“You’re going to wait here, Mario.” Tripple said while handing him his knife. “I’ll bring him up here, we can’t do it down there in the street.”

This wasn’t Tripple's fight but the drugs and alcohol added to his bravery. Truth is, he knew Mario couldn’t fight someone bigger than him too well. Specially if he had to drag them upstairs.

“He’s right.” I added to the fear in all of us, “too high key.”

Tripple took his sweater off halfway. His arms were still in to use it as a choke around the dudes neck and drag him up. I was surprised they didn’t ask for my help. I don’t think I could’ve done it. I was fucked up. We were all fucked up.

While Tripple went down and got the dude. Mario didn’t take his sight off the fire escape exit on top of the building. I couldn’t intervene because I knew this wasn’t my fight.

To my surprise, Tripple walked up without making any unnecessary sounds while holding the body on a chokehold. The top half was covered with his sweater and the bottom half was naked. It wasn’t a dude.

We all laughed as if this was a bigger victory. Only because we knew how easy everything was going to go.

“Give me your best shot, right here baby, right here.” Tripple whispered at Mario while pointing at this poor girl's head.

We fucked her up.

I remember kicking her ribs and seeing Tripple’s sweater caving in on an opening. That was probably her mouth trying to grasp for air. She tried screaming but she had no chance.

Tripple was the first one to take his pants off and go for it. I remember grabbing my forty and spilling beer on the girl's head. Mario wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how good it was going to feel to stab a bitch.

Mario went second. This wasn’t the first time I saw Mario in action. I do think that was the first time Mario felt important and bad ass. He was closer to scar face now, more than ever.

Mario kept on getting the knife he had in his hand closer to this bitch’s neck.

I said, “Fuck that nigga. This bitch can recognize our voice. I say we fucking shoot her.”

“Fuck yeah,” Mario looked at me and continued “I’m shooting this bitch in the fucking face.”

He mentioned something about real gangsters looking at you in the eye while they shoot you between them.

Tripple went ahead and took his bloody sweater back. I remember it looked purple during night time. Must’ve been the beer, the girls saliva and her tears that made the blue turn darker.

But what Mario saw made him start to cringe and stutter because he was staring into the eyes of his own sister. She looked back at him and cried. She cried more painfully, than when they were raping her.

Mario fucking lost it and took his own gun to his own head. I didn’t try to stop him neither did Tripple. He fell to his knees and looked up to the sky but I don’t think there was nothing there for him.

He shot himself through the left eye. I remember looking down at the back of his head and the heat of the bullet left it looking like the top of a chimney. Everything was dark, the smoke got in my nose and till this day, I still can’t describe that smell. All I knew was that the only man I had ever trusted was dead. I might’ve not had a father or blood siblings but this guy Mario was all I had. I had to take care of his legacy, I needed to make sure his name wasn’t put down.

I remember getting off my ass and taking the gun out of Mario’s hand. My fingertips felt the freezing chrome through my black gloves. I looked at his sister without trying to make eye contact, and I don’t know why but she didn’t beg, she didn’t ask why, like, she just knew I was meant to kill her. The power of the gun forced me to close my eyes. I heard her body land. I opened my eyes and she bled the same color he did.

Tripple took the gun from me and ran down stairs. I handed it to him, honestly. I didn’t need it anymore. This wasn’t me. For the first time, I felt like I did the right thing. I felt like I did someone a real favor. That night, it wasn’t just three of us. The devil followed us. I thought about the chances of this happening. This no crip plan, nobody wanted to hurt his little sister. The fact that a nigga like me didn’t know much about her, was strange. Strangeness, the good kind cause that meant she didn’t fuck with the wrong crowd. She didn’t deserve this, but she had to die so Mario could take himself out and I would be on death sentence twenty years later.

Tripple and I kept our distance for some time. No cops wanted information, nobody gave a shit. Times had changed. I thought these were the things people paid attention to instead of paying attention to two second graders on a bus.

I didn’t go to Mario’s funeral. I was told people were saying he was walking his sister back home from a party when they both got attacked by either a gang or a robber. I always responded that it sounded like something Mario would do.

Tripple died during a drive by a few years ago. I didn’t care as much. It just reminded me of Mario.

“Son, and you are telling me all this because?”

Cause I never could come back from that, Priest. I’ve been inside these same four walls for a couple years now. But I know, I damn well know, that God is making me pay for what I didn’t pay before.

“Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

I don’t know what death feels like priest, so why should I be?

“You have less than twenty four hours to live, and you chose to ask for forgiveness on something you did more than twenty years ago?”

Nah, the electric chair don’t forgive. You think you can forgive, priest. I don’t know if God is going to forgive but there’s nothing better than living with peace of mind, even if it’s just for a few hours.

“I’m glad you did it, son.”

Tell her that I miss him, tell her that I never had any other best friend than Mario. But also tell her we didn’t know what we was doing. Tell her by the time she gets this, I’ll be wherever I deserve to be. I loved Mario like a brother, and for that, for that simple reason, I want her to know the truth. She deserves it.

“When she asks about what happened?”

You tell her the truth, I fucked up, I couldn’t go back to my life without Mario, after what I did. The gang life took over and I just did too much fucked up shit, enough to deserve to die.

“Are you sure?”

Fuck yeah, she doesn’t need any more bullshit into her life. Go ahead and tell her I killed random niggas’ families for a living. Tell her I stayed on selling drugs and making money on the block. Tell her I needed to live Mario’s dream, and I did. Tell her, that wherever it is that people like us go after death, I’ll see Mario and I’ll tell him about all the scarface life shit I did.

“Take care, son. I swear on the cross that hangs on my neck that I’ll take care of this. God and everyone involved in this thanks you for making this your last wish.”

Thank you.

“In the name of the Father…”

The Son. The Holy Spirit.

“May the devil no longer follow you.”

Amen.

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thatz-not-okay · 6 years

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Having wanted a DSLR for years I finally purchased one. Now I find myself near-obsessively archiving enjoyable moments through a lens. My roommate seems to understand this, and even suggested taking some outdoor portraits of her. The rest of my friends think it's extremely odd that I enjoy taking pictures of them while fixing dinner, watching TV, or whatever else they may be doing. They seem really suspicious as to what I'm doing with these pictures, but I'm only keeping the flattering images of them (retouching them if necessary), and archiving them. I do this with no specific goal in mind, other than the fact that I find it enjoyable. I do respect their privacy, and have gotten in the habit of asking if they mind me taking their picture, but they are generally camera shy. I'm at a loss how to make them more comfortable having their picture taken, or understand why I enjoy taking their pictures. I'm starting to wonder if there's something wrong with me for wanting to take them in the first place. I just want to photograph my friends. Is that okay?

Thatz okay.

But it's also okay that your friends don't always want to have their pictures taken. Some people just don't enjoy being photographed. Focus on the ones who do.

Of course people don't really believe you when say you are just creating art in a vacuum, for no reason. [Near-]Obsessively snapping photos of people, picking out the best shots, and carefully retouching them for his own personal records is the kind of thing that, when an old man does it—sitting alone in his apartment, peeping out his window at the grey afternoon, and all his little shoes are lined up on "his" half of the closet even though the other half is empty, and he doesn't speak English (I think he's Italian)—is heartbreaking. When...just some guy...does it, it's inexplicably sinister and undeniably creepy.

People become uncomfortable when they don't understand your motivation. It's like they're playing checkers and you're playing chess; they can't figure out how to react to what you're doing, so they don't know how to win or lose. Pretty much any reason you can scrounge up for taking these photos other than "no particular reason,"—"I want to get better at photography"; "I'm trying to build a portfolio"; "I'm going to make a fortune off your face by selling these stock photos to the highest bidder"—will soothe them.

The important thing is to stay away from the abstract. Don't answer their questions ("Why are you doing this?") with questions of your own ("Why does anyone collect anything?") That will make you sound evasive, like a serial killer.

"Some people collect coins...I collect SOULS."

If you come up with a reason for your hobby, your friends still might decline to be photographed, but at least they won't worry that you're planning to upload these pictures to your computer to masturbate to them later, which is definitely what they are thinking. Even if you say, "I'm going to upload these pictures to my computer to masturbate to later," you might still find someone game to be photographed. (I don't know your freak-a-leek friends.)

You would also do well to remember that even people who like to be photographed don't like to be photographed constantly. Don't become the friend paparazzi. Your friends will quickly grow weary of your presence if, every time they invite you over to watch American Horror Story, you spend the hour taking pictures of them watching TV for an exhibition titled "The Way We Watched American Horror Story" you're planning to curate on your computer for no one later that night.

Also, the number one rule of taking pictures of people is that you have to then let them see the pictures—"This is what the camera monster sees when it looks at you!"—which it doesn't sound like you are necessarily doing. Start doing that. It will make people feel better. Maybe give them a framed photograph of themselves for the holiday of your choice. A disturbing Pentecost surprise.

If eventually your friends all decline to be photographed but you are desperate to pursue your passion of capturing images of humans for no clear reason, maybe look into posting a "TFP" (Time for Prints) listing on Craigslist. This is an arrangement by which a photographer solicits the services of broke-ass models, who pose in exchange for receiving free copies of the shots.

Or you can take pictures of flowers or something. Flowers don't need to give consent and they don't care if you masturbate to their images.

I was recently out on a double date with my good friend, her new beau, and my boyfriend. While we were hanging out and having pleasant conversation, something very strange happened. My friend's new dude perceived that I had interrupted him and he took it upon himself to playfully slap my face as a way of, I don't know, correcting me? I was extremely taken aback. I do not like to be touched by strangers (particularly men, whether or not they are dating my friend) and I especially do not like being touched in the face of all places. I called him out on it by saying "I'm sorry, did you just... slap my face?" and he laughed and gave me a "Yeah, so?"

I was furious. I told him "Do it again, and see what happens." So he did do it again and I launched across the table ready to attack but was restrained by my boyfriend. Now, I realize it was wrong to try to attack him, but his physical violation of my personal space triggered past abuse and sent me into a blind rage. My friend and boyfriend seem to think I overreacted to the situation and that what this guy did was no big deal, but I disagree. My question is, if someone you barely know playfully slaps you in the face, is that okay?

Thatz not okay.

This guy is obviously a jerk and was raised in a barn where severed hands dangled and protruded from every surface, making it impossible to go about your daily activities without getting lightly slapped in the face innumerable times. Everyone who was raised in the outside world ("The Land Beyond the Hands," his gruff mother called it) knows that slapping someone else's face—even lightly slapping it; even just touching it, with your hot, strange fingers—is extremely rude.

Unfortunately, when you have to be physically restrained in a restaurant to keep from assault someone, you are the diner who looks crazy. And that's not fair to you.

Here's what you said that was a good thing to say:

"I'm sorry, did you just slap my face?"

Here's what you said that was a bad thing to say:

"Do it again and see what happens."

That is the kind of taunt a 14-year-old on the playground (or, like, Sammi Sweetheart from Jersey Shore) uses. When you say this, you are literally inviting someone to repeat whatever behavior just angered you. (You're obviously hoping they won't—and, sure, some people will choose not to—but this guy established himself as an unpredictable oaf with the first move. You think he's going to turn down the opportunity for a slapdown smackdown?)

What would you have done if you had not been restrained? Killed him? Slapped him in the face with a dozen tiny slaps? "Here's an amuse bouche for you: knuckle sandwiches!"

There is no way to be totally in the right when you have to be physically held back—like an out of control teen addressing the Maury studio audience—to prevent you from beating someone. From your story, it sounds like this guy is more of an "I touch people" asshole than a "Let's have some dust-ups with the young lasses!" lunatic. To everyone around you (or, as they would have been described in the police report, "witnesses"), this would have looked like a crazy woman attacking a man over a table.

The one upside being slapped by a relative stranger slaps you in a casual social setting is that it gives you free rein to kill the mood.

Destroy that mood.

WASTE that mood.

You know what's going to make everyone feel uncomfortable—especially the person who slapped you? Telling that person, "I was actually in an abusive relationship for a while, so I'm really sensitive to being slapped in the face." If that's a little revealing (or dramatic) for your taste, saying "Don't do it again," in a deadly serious voice will probably have the same effect.

One benefit of responding with withering words instead of your full bodyweight is that if this guy, being FULL CRAZY, had slapped you again after your calm response, no one would have said "Well, he was wrong but you overreacted."People instead would have said, "That man is FULL CRAZY."

I'm hoping (and guessing) that it's not that your friend and boyfriend think that what the guy did was "no big deal"; rather, that what you did—launch yourself across the table like an Angry Bird to FUCKIN' GUT someone—was a bigger deal. Just like it was a bigger deal that he playfully slapped your face than that you interrupted him.

Don't attack people. Don't slap people. Don't interrupt people. In that order.

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