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readyplayerhobi · 5 years

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Starfire | 04

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Science fiction, angst, fluff

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: The schism that broke the galaxy began, as it usually does, over a disagreement. The resultant civil war has raged for hundreds of years. When a ragtag group of travellers discovers something that could turn the tide of war, for good or for worse, the bonds of friendship and love will be tested.

; A/N: I know not a lot of people read this but...I hope the ones that do enjoy it! Starfire remains a passion project of mine because I love science fiction so much. This is a ‘transition’ chapter which I felt was needed because the next one will be pretty intense in terms of world building...please reblog, comment and send asks if you enjoyed it because like I said, it’s not well loved but it’s loved by me ;-;

Previous Chapter ; Next Chapter

A headache was throbbing at the front of your skull while your eyes were straining, an unfortunate by-product of staring at your screens all day. Namjoon had had you scouring the news feeds to find out what the latest spin on you and your renegade crew was. The journey was long, particularly as you couldn't make any stops and you were tired but you needed to know what was being said.

So far, it was clear that you were all wanted for treason by both sides. Which was ridiculous, as how did you commit treason for both when you belonged to neither?

Still, it was going to be a particularly tough time and you truly felt like an outlaw now. Namjoon had finally pried you away from your computer after 20 hours of intense searching. The Starfire was only a day out from Mikalia now, preparing for the eventual drop out of hyperspace.

None of you truly knew what you could expect when you arrived. For the safety of the whole crew, you had decreed that no one should broadcast your arrival to the planet. If no one knew you were coming, then no one could be seeking you already.

But there were problems that would arise, problems that neither you nor Namjoon truly wanted to acknowledge and yet had to for the sake of everyone. The Starfire would be well known by now. Possibly the most famous ship in the entirety of the galaxy at this point.

At one stage of your life, that would have filled you with pride and excitement; the knowledge that a ship you piloted was so famous and well known. But now it just filled you with dread and fear. Because people weren’t celebrating the Starfire, they weren’t rejoicing in stories of amazing escapes or astonishing flying.

They were hunting for you, the Starfire’s name being spat by billions of people across the known space. Your ship was enemy number one to the two most powerful systems in the history of space exploration and it was a frightening thought.

Space was a big place and easy to get lost in, yet you were terrified that you were going to be found so easily.

Jungkook had proven to be a remarkable source of information for you all, able to scour his internal memory and produce chunks of information with insurmountable ease. This unnerved some of the crew and they continued to avoid him, but it absolutely fascinated Jisoo and Taehyung.

It had also been useful to you, as Namjoon had also tasked you with finding out as much information about Mikanis as possible. Knowledge would ensure that you all knew the landscape of Mikanis, from its terrain to its politics and much more. None of you ever wanted to walk in blindly again if possible, not after what had happened now.

Once burnt, twice shy and all that.

What you’d discovered had been pretty promising so far, and you almost wanted to congratulate Namjoon on deciding to pick the distant planet as a place to hide. Deep in the Adrestia system, it was far from both UIS and TAS space which meant it was far from their patrols. Their influence was exceptionally weak this far in, and Mikanis was well known as a planet that was outwardly suspicious and hostile to both systems.

It was heavily populated, with a current population teetering on 12 billion who lived in obscenely large megacities that spread across its surface. The climate was inhospitable to the vast majority of the races who lived there, which meant that most of the population lived in the sprawling cities at certain points on the continents.

The space inbetween was taken over by extraordinarily extreme landscapes. Akati, the largest continent, was home to four megacities with a population of over 1 billion in each. The cities were shielded from the harsh environment with top of the line shield technology while the cities themselves had built deeper into the planet as the population grew steadily over the centuries.

Between Kika and Doragi alone, the two cities that were situated in the southern hemisphere, the land was a vast rainforest where a storm raged continuously with winds that could send a person flying. The wildlife here was known to be particularly brutal and unforgiving, raised in the savage winds, unrelenting rain and lightning that ravaged the landscape.

The northern hemisphere on Akati was a barren wasteland; the land cracked and bone dry from millennia of dehydration and starvation. There hadn’t been any reported wildlife there beyond astonishingly large spider-life creatures that secreted a dangerous poison and were infamously hard to kill

Mikanis was a planet of extremes for sure, and you initially wondered why anyone had bothered to colonise such a place. It was only after further research that you’d discovered it had once held an astonishingly large deposit of ditatanium, an incredible substance that was well known as one of the hardest ever found.

It was rare and paid well, which was Mikanis had been originally populated as a mining colony for the company Astra Mining Services. It had grown larger and larger until it eventually took on its own identity, soon becoming a stop for anyone who wanted to witness the ravaging wilderness or have a fun time long after the ditatanium had run out in the mines.

Mikanis had everything you could ever want, and its willingness to engage in what others found distasteful meant it had become home to those who disliked the rules. It was the perfect place to hide from two titans who were searching for you, but that also meant it was dangerous too.

There would be many people in Mikanis who would see the Starfire and simply see money to be made. You had just as much chance of being turned in, or killed, for the bounties on your heads as you did at being protected.

One person might see you as a way to stick two fingers up to the system. The one next to them might see you as a ticket to a good and easy life.

Shifting in your chair as you stretched, bones popping and cracking in your body from the movement, you let out a deep groan before resting your head back on the cushioned surface. The chair was made from long term use, the gel like substance beneath the supple faux-leather soft and providing excellent support to your body.

There were straps set into the chair that would automatically move around you when necessary to keep you in place, such as a rapid deceleration or if the artificial gravity went offline. It was also useful when in combat situations in case the Starfire was attacked. You’d been too busy last time to notice it.

But right now, the chair just felt hard and uncomfortable. You wanted to leave the seat and walk around; run, fight, do anything other than sit and stare at the damn screen in front of you any longer. It was making your eyes strain and hurt, which was something that shouldn’t even be possible anymore but there you have it.

“Find anything?” Namjoon called, causing you to swivel around to face him. He looked just as tired, dark shadows under his eyes making it look like he hadn’t slept in a week. Maybe he hadn’t.

As far as you knew, Namjoon had spent his own time going through all the crew members while also going over the battle you’d had, running over all the information until it was imprinted in his mind. He’d wanted to know where everything had gone wrong, you knew that. Namjoon had read over the contract itself probably a million times by now, wondering if there was some get-out clause hidden deep within it that he could use to strong arm the TAS into letting you all go.

But it was ironclad, you knew that. The UIS knew about the existence of Jungkook, which meant the TAS would wash their hands of you quicker than it took them to breathe. You were on your own.

“No. The subspace messages coming in don’t mention us, but we don’t have access to them all right now. I don’t want us to try and look at any UIS or TAS streams in case it accidentally alerts them to us somehow. They may have a track on our signal and it might cause us to flag up if we try and access anything of theirs.” You say sadly, pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes in annoyance.

“Shit.” Namjoon said. Simple, but true.

“What about your mysterious contact? Are they going to help us or are they going to sell us out? Because I’m just saying, if I’m going to die then I’d rather we just vent the ship and go that way. I’m not a fan of being laser blasted. I might not die immediately, and that would just be painful and suck ass. Although...is it quicker to die in space? Maybe not...maybe we can get Jin to get the core to go into meltdown or something.” You muse to yourself, finger tapping at your lip idly as you scan the ceiling of the bridge.

There’s no need to look at Namjoon to know that he’s probably rolling his eyes so hard that he’s giving himself a headache. It was your job to be his professional headache. His reliable shoulder to cry on, the one who was capable of running the ship in his absence but also being a big ol’ headache in that pretty head of his.

You can practically hear the movement, even though it doesn’t actually make any noise. You’ve just known him that long.

“I don’t think she’ll sell us out. She’s never been like that before. And she owes me...kinda.” His voice quieted a little, causing your brow to raise as you finally looked at him. He steadfastly avoids your gaze, a flicker of amusement lighting in you at the sight of him looking so awkward.

“She?” The question is implicit in your tone and you watch as Namjoon’s cheeks flush slightly, leading you to believe that this contact is more than you originally thought. But then again, you should have realised it was someone more important than just a mere casual contact; he’d only be taking the Starfire to someone he trusted.

“Yeah,” He paused, almost unwilling but the narrowing of your eyes had him sighing deeply. His reluctance to give her name causes you to tense up slightly, wondering if this is someone you hate. There’s not many people in the galaxy you hate, but someone Namjoon seems to know them all. “Chungha.”

There’s a moment of silence as you stare at him before a bark of laughter leaves you, the smile spreading over your face as you lean forward until your elbows rest on your knees. “Chungha? The Chungha? The Chungha who almost blew your head off last time we saw her because you told her that her EVA suit made her thighs look big.”

“She asked me if they did and I responded honestly!” He countered, defensive outrage in his voice. It causes you to laugh even harder, causing Jungkook to turn his head and watch you both with widened eyes from where he sits quietly at Taehyung’s console.

“Yeah, and you don’t ever respond with yes you idiot! Particularly with a Cheongari! You’re lucky she let you live. And you genuinely think she’s going to help us?” You stand, arms gesticulating as you stare at your captain in confusion. He’s not normally this stupid, but maybe he’d just made the decision on a whim.

It’s not like he’d had chance to properly think it out really, so maybe you should cut him some slack. Then again, he’s had a while since to reassess his situation.

The last time you’d seen Chungha had been three years ago, when you’d crossed paths on Iath Station. She was ridiculously beautiful and graceful, but the blood red eyes and ice blonde hair gave away her race quickly. The Cheongari were infamous for their quick tempers, but you knew that they also retained strong loyalty to those they considered friends. Maybe Namjoon wasn’t being an idiot.

If she was still angry with Namjoon, then there was still the chance that she might help out for you. You’d done absolutely nothing to piss the frightening yet insanely attractive woman and you liked to think that she still thought of you fondly. Even if you hadn’t hung out all that much.

“Yes, I do. Because Chungha and I grew up together. I saved her life once and that creates a blood debt for a Cheongari.” The way Namjoon shifts awkwardly in his comfortable command chair has you looking at him in suspicion. There’s more to this story, you can just tell. Namjoon never could hide anything from you.

“There’s more though. What is it? I didn’t really have a lot to do with her last time. In fact...it was mainly you who talked to her. I also don’t like the idea of you strong arming her into doing something just because of some blood debt. What’s to stop her from bending us all over and fucking us harder than we’ve ever been fucked as soon as she considers that debt over?.” Walking over to him, you rest your hip against his console as he leans back in his chair, shoulders moving inwards in an effort to make himself smaller. It doesn’t work.

He coughs slightly, running his fingers along his throat and looking at Rose’s empty console in yet another vain attempt to avoid your attention. “We have...history. Romantic history.”

“Oh damn, you banged her?” Without even realising you’re nodding in approval. Chungha is beautiful and you don’t often see Namjoon engaging in sexual or romantic relations with others. It was almost...nice to know that he had done.

“Don’t be crass. We were together for a few years when I was younger and...well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have feelings for her. And I’m pretty sure it’s the same way with her. She wouldn’t have reacted so angrily last time,” He lifts his hand to stop any words that might come from you. “I know, I know. I was an idiot.”

“So, she’s not going to want you dead then, right? That’s the main point? What will she think of Jungkook?” You gesture to the android where he sits. He’s been pretty silent for the whole time you’ve been here, content to simply watch the map that showed the Starfire’s course to Mikanis. He said that he liked watching the maps, which was oddly sweet and made you want to coo at him.

The pilot himself was napping in his room and you considered it a sign of how much you could trust Jungkook that Taehyung was happy to leave him alone at his console. Particularly considering Jungkook could take control of the Starfire easily from there and mess everything up if he so wanted.

A rather terrifying thought if you focused on it, but you shake your head. Jungkook wouldn’t do that. You trusted him.

“I don’t know. How is anyone supposed to know what they’d think about an AI? Hopefully, she’ll be supportive of us. I know that she’s got contacts on Mikanis that are useful. She moved there two years ago and we’ve kept in contact, if sporadically. She’s pretty high up in one of the big weapons companies there.” It made sense for a Cheongari. They were renowned for their warring abilities and their weapons mastery was phenomenal.

An ideal friend to have. A horrible enemy though.

“That’s great. Hopefully she’ll help us, though I don’t even know what help we want right now. What are we gonna do about the Starfire though? As soon as we enter the atmosphere they’re gonna know it’s us. I mean, for starters we have our name on the side. And secondly, our signature blatantly lists us as the Starfire. Anyone with half a brain could scan us and we’ll show up on whatever list they’ve put us on.”

Before either of you can say anything, the soft and gentle tones of Jungkook’s voice interrupt you both. It makes you jump slightly, not having realised that he was listening properly. His eyes were bright with the reflection of the map in front of him, neon colours paling his skin slightly in the darkened light of the bridge.

He looked pretty, innocent even.

“I can help with that. I’m pretty sure I can at least.” He sounds hesitant and unsure, as if you might snap at him. Some of the crew still found his presence disturbing and there was a little outright hostility from a few of them still lingering, making him withdraw into himself. Understandable from them, given that they were on the verge of losing everything.

But it was still not his fault, not really.

“You can? How?” You ask, brow creasing as you look at Namjoon for a second. He shrugs and makes a face at you, evidently as unsure about what Jungkook was saying as you were. Turning back, you look at the android as he stares back at you both.

Jungkook looks so young as he sits there, those pretty eyes of his wide while his fingers play with the ends of his shirt in a rather human gesture. “I can change the identification code of the Starfire to something else, so we show as a different ship. I’ve already identified an unused code that we could use, you would just need to provide a new name. It may take me a few hours as I will need to go through every system to change this code in case anyone takes a deeper look. I can’t change the name on the outer, but I presume that you may have some way to resolve that issue?”

Your eyes widen as you nod slowly. Jisoo and Jin would be able to go outside once the ship dropped out of hyperspace and erase the name from the side, removing any hint that this was the Starfire. It was a little painful to imagine the beautiful ship without her name anymore, but you all knew who she really was.

“How...how do you know how to do that?” The question is unsure, but you feel like you need to know. Jungkook was still a mystery to everyone, including himself, but if he could prove to be a useful member of the crew then there was a chance that the others might accept him quicker. And that you might have a chance of getting out of this whole thing alive somehow.

“You mentioned it earlier and I decided to research this through...my memory to see if it was possible. It is illegal. But I don’t think that we care about that right now, right?” He pauses, trying to figure out the correct terminology and your heart twists at the confusion in his face. Looking at Namjoon, you shrug as your mouth twists.

“No, I don’t think we do. Your call captain, she’s your ship.” Namjoon looks pained at the thought of his beloved Starfire losing her name and you reach for his shoulder, rubbing slightly in sympathy. “It’s okay, we all know who the ol’ girl is. That’s what matters. I’m sure Jungkook can change her back once everything’s sorted.”

A quick look at Jungkook has him nodding in acknowledgement, causing you to smile. He looks adorably eager to please, and you’re positive that he is. It must be awfully frustrating to feel so useless, particularly when he didn’t even really know himself.

Namjoon sighs heavily before nodding, running his hand over his eyes. “Okay. Do it. Change the name to...Fury.” His last word is biting and you get the sense that he’s got a lot of anger bubbling underneath his tiredness. You’re not surprised; betrayal, almost death and a universe changing secret can do that.

“Sounds good,” You say with a strained smile. “I’m gonna head off to sleep then. I think you should do the same Namjoon. We want to be fresh when we arrive. No one wants to make mistakes because they’re tired, we’ve done all we can do for now.”

He nods at your words, giving you a strained smile. You head over to Jungkook before leaving, crouching down next to him and giving him a soft smile as you rest a hand on his firm thigh. His eyes follow you the whole time, taking in everything you do with that calm demeanour he always seems to exude.

“Are you okay?” You ask, voice gentle with him as you watch his face closely. It’s almost strange, even eerie, how lifelike and human his looks and movements are. His brow creases so slightly; the skin there wrinkling while his dark eyebrows pull inwards and his lips purse into a thoughtful pout.

The very fact that he’s a working AI is a marvel of technology, but the sheer amount of work that must have gone into him to make him so utterly indistinguishable from a human being is mind boggling. If this is just one of the things that TAS is doing behind closed doors then you dread to think what else they could be creating.

“I think so. I don’t…” Jungkook trails off, his eyes skittering away from yours as his lower lip disappears between his teeth, chewing absentmindedly in his nerves. You give him an encouraging smile, squeezing his thigh gently to let him know it’s okay. It’s bizarre how his thigh feels like real muscles beneath your touch. “I don’t want people to get hurt for me. I’ll try, for you all. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

His voice goes whisper soft, strained slightly with a multitude of emotions that you’re positive he’s struggling with. You can’t even imagine what it must be like for him, trying to come to terms with emotions that he doesn’t understand because he hasn’t had time to understand them.

Sighing, you place your free hand on his arm and rub at it soothingly, giving him a gentle smile of reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. People are still just...scared and upset right now. But once we have a proper plan of what to do, they’ll feel safer and be happier. You doing this for us, changing the Starfire’s codes...it’ll mean a lot that you’ve helped out. They’re good people and I know you’re good too, even if I don’t know you too well just yet.”

“I don’t know me too well.” He mutters, glaring down at his hands. They fist slightly and you watch in awe as the skin pales the clenched points, exactly how a real person would. Tendons bulge slightly in his wrist and arm as he does so and you trail a finger over them without meaning to, wondering if perhaps it’s something metal beneath.

But it gives way to your touch, just like the real thing and you can’t help the smile that spreads over your face as you look up at him.

“That’s fine. None of us really know ourselves properly, that makes you human. You...you shouldn’t exist, not really. But you do, and you’re here worried about other people when you’ll be the one to outlive all of us for a long time I think. Don’t focus on others Jungkook. You’re new to the world and I think you need to focus on yourself, figure out yourself a little more. Find out what makes Jungkook, Jungkook. You are as real to me as anyone else on this ship, and despite what anyone says, they’d all protect you.” He licks at his lips, looking away and back at the screen.

“I’m just a machine though. I’m more like the Starfire than you.” You tut as you stand, brushing off your legs and giving him a bright smile as you wag your finger at him.

“Now now, none of that. I’ll have you know that we all adore the Starfire and consider her part of the family too. You may be a machine, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a person, okay? You’re...you’re our little brother and we’re going to protect you like one. Family.” The words are stern and Jungkook just stares up at you, those big eyes so full of hope in what you’re telling him.

He gives a slight nod to you, acknowledging what you’d said with the tiniest smile as his cheeks flush before he turns back towards Taehyung’s screen. Without saying anything more, his fingers begin to dance over the console and you watch for a couple of seconds longer as he starts to complete the task he set himself.

Walking over to the exit, you glance at Namjoon and see the way his lips curve up in amusement at the whole interaction. His brow raises slowly before he gives you a thumbs up, causing you to roll your eyes in embarrassment before leaving.

After all those hours of research and planning, you were beyond tired and you could already feel a headache beginning to form at the back of your eyes. Rubbing at your forehead, you contemplated for a moment going to get a drink before deciding that you just wanted to fall into bed.

But it’s not your bed that you go to exactly.

The door to Hoseok’s room opens with the softest noise and you enter slowly, taking stock of the sight that was before you. A sight that hadn’t changed for the last few days whenever you had come in here. Dim lighting let you see his peaceful expression as he slept and you felt the strongest urge to cuddle up to him and just disappear into the abyss of sleep with him.

So you did, slipping your shoes off and lifting the covers before sliding next to his warm body, careful to avoid knocking the wires that kept check of him and were hooked up to the mediocre medical machine the Starfire had. It was all that was keeping Hoseok hydrated and sustained with nourishment so far, but you were grateful for it either way.

Resting your head on his firm chest, you close your eyes and focus on the steady beating of his heart along with the gentle rise and fall under your cheek. He smelt like home, and it sent a sliver of safety and comfort to slide through your veins.

“Starfire, activate galaxy setting. Excalibur Nebula. Whole room.” Your words are quiet yet the response of the computer onboard the Starfire was immediate. For a second, you wondered if you would need to start calling her Fury to get the computer to respond, but it vanishes a moment later.

As you watch, the entirety of Hoseok's room suddenly goes dark before the tiny projectors embedded into the walls, ceiling and floor activated. The twisting purple and blue gas of the Excalibur Nebula stretched across the wall in front of you, billions upon billions of stars twinkling prettily inside its extraordinary mass and providing the perfect background.

It was your home system, where your planet was located and where Hoseok and you had grown up so long ago. Maybe the reminder, as subtle as it was, would help Hoseok to wake. Or at least give him pleasant dreams. It made you feel better, being surrounded by the space that you had grown up with.

Nuzzling your nose into Hoseok's shoulder, you sigh heavily and run your fingers over his flat stomach in a motion that would probably be pleasant and reassuring for him if he was awake, but it was also soothing to you right now. Just being with him made you feel like you could get things accomplished.

“I wish you were awake Hoseok. We're in a whole world of shit. The entire galaxy wants us dead now...well...most of it anyway. And can you believe it's because of Jungkook??” Your voice is quiet but incredulous.

“He's an AI, a real and functioning self-aware AI. He walks and talks and cries like a human but he's all machine. It's fascinating and horrible to know we could die because of him. Jimin still thinks we should kill him, but there's no point because the TAS know we know about him and so do the UIS. We're fucked. It's not his fault though. He's like a child, so innocent and wide eyed. Curious about everything and he tries so hard to be liked right now. I think you’d like him. I know he'd like you.” For a moment you stay quiet, letting your cheek squish against him before sighing.

You don’t know why you’re repeating this to him, but you need someone to vent to. Someone to just think about things with and let you get out your concerns and frustrations. Hoseok would have responded if he’d been awake, letting you talk to your heart's content.

“Maybe it's better you're not awake. Then you won't have to put up with this too. It's stressful,” You pause a moment before laughing. “I kind of wish we could just run away to Hekasus. Just...go back and get a home, get married and pop out a few cute kids. They'd have beautiful smiles and eyes from you along with your Magi talents and my smart mouth.”

You reach out to faintly trace over a pretty strand of violet gas.

“I miss when we were younger. Do you regret it? That we didn't act on our feelings then? I know we were young and it's not approved of with young Magi but...I kind of regret not staying. But then we would never have found the Starfire and our family. Still...I wish I'd at least kissed you that night instead of running off. There's never been anyone but you though, even if I tried for a while. And if I know Magi...I feel you may have been the same.”

Because it was true really. Magi only fell in true love once, and they never left it. The dancing you'd both done for years had been teasing, but deep down you both knew that you were both it for each other.

And Hoseok’s heartbreak in his dream talk had let you see the truth. This incredible man had likely been in love with you since he was 16, and you wanted to go back in time and slap yourself for missing out on all those years with him.

You sigh deeply, wrapping your arm around his chest tighter. “I'm sorry. I love you. Please wake up soon so I can tell you in person. Please. I need you.”

The soft and constant sound of Hoseok's breath is all you can hear as you drift off slowly; a galaxy surrounding you, a comforting presence in your arms and the sweet memories of a childhood love making your dreams pleasant for once.

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audiopilot · 5 years

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Snippet: Remanence Chapter 4

Sneak peak of the next part since it’s taking me so long. I’m in the process of moving so it is unfortunately taking me a while to write and edit. I hope to have the full chapter posted this month. 😙

Jake shrank back against the hill as Myers advanced. Even the smallest movement was torture. He wanted the earth at his back to open up and swallow him to get away from the dark, foul smell radiating off Myers. Yet there was no avoiding him as the hatch door snapped closed and the last traces of dark smoke fanned out in fast-disappearing wisps.

Whatever ran through Myers' head was a mystery as he considered where Jake lay helpless at his feet. Would he leave him here to die or hasten it with his knife? Not that he wanted to be stabbed again, but hr wanted this entire mess to be over.

Every moment he grew weaker. He didn't bother to try and put any pressure on the stab wound splitting open his abdomen. He was going to die anyway— better to bleed out. His vision went blurry; the red and blue of Myers' stained coverall melted together into a dripping haze. Like the hatch's smoke it drifted upwards in tendrils that curled in on themselves. Trying to track their sinuous movement left his head spinning. When he blearily focused back on Myers' mask, the dark holes of his eyes began to grow. Yawning wide, they stretched beyond the mask's limits and, like black mouths, hungrily ate all color away.

Big hands pulled at his body. Jake flopped back onto the ground with a cry as his numb legs refused to support his own weight. Myers's arms slipped under his back and legs to lift him into the air.

"No," Jake groaned, too boneless to fight it as he was arranged. Instead of tossing him over his shoulder, Myers carried him like a child, held against his chest. The rigid length of the knife pressed along the outside of his thigh. The fetid, coppery scent of blood was overpowering.

Jake was empty, drained of both strength and emotion. He felt cold.

The coverall, wet and rough, rubbed against his cheekbone where his head dropped against Myers' shoulder.

Each step jostled his whole body and triggered sharp resonations of pain, but being carried triggered the entity-caused limbo state that kept him conscious. Usually it had a re-energizing effect that allowed survivors to wriggle free if the killer wasn't quick enough to hook them. Jake had no desire to fight his way out, resigned to whatever Myers had in store for him. Even if he did struggle out of his hold, he could follow Jake through the bond's connection no matter how far he ran.

A particularly rough step startled him from his morose thoughts. Before his eyes shone the pale slip of skin at the bottom of Myers' mask. It was the only thing untouched by carnage. He followed the edge of the disguise up, slightly nervous to see the holes of the mask, but it looked normal again if slightly odd from the severe angle. The flared collar of Myers' coverall unstuck from his face when he lifted his head.

Laurie was still out there. Jake clenched a useless fist on his pant leg. She would attempt a rescue. Despite her own admonishment about being stupid, that she still lingered spoke loudly of her intentions.

They were back at the buses, their yellow color muted and blurred as his vision still hadn't recovered. Past the gate, unopened and all three lights dead, Myers halted by the bus window he had dragged Jake through earlier. The arms around him shifted and, afraid of being thrown to the ground, Jake automatically clung on with both hands.

"Wait, before you—ah!" Jake's voice broke into the startled sound when Myers' fingers curled in where they cradled his side. It was the same tender spot Myers had grabbed during his heat and the reminder made his mouth go dry.

Myers inhaled deeply before bending while the arm under Jake's knees withdrew. The one around his back kept him steady as Jake lowered his legs one at a time. Gritting his teeth, Jake kept a tight grip on Myers as he awkwardly regained his footing.

It still hurt. Sweat prickled at his hairline as the unavoidable stretch of his abdomen tugged at every damaged nerve.

The entire time, Myers' body slid against his own. It was disgusting, the mess he was covered in coating Jake's side with a slick sound. Yet he couldn't help but notice the feel of Myers' chest, stomach, and hips as they dragged against him. Even through his clothes, the touch left him far too aware of his own body.

Feeling a flush spread from the back of his neck, Jake quickly let go of Myers only to accidentally kick something by his foot. It was a medical kit, laying sideways with its white cross warped by a large dent. Jake stared at it, then back up at Myers, motionless and watching.

"You want me to use this?" Jake wasn't able to hide his disbelief.

Myers' head went up and then back down in such a minute move that Jake would have thought he had imagined it. In all their interactions, Myers had never communicated back in a clear way despite obviously understanding what he said. Sure, he reacted to what Jake said or did. But not with any words, implied or not. To see him respond now with a 'yes' shocked the pervasive pain out his head. A phantom touch tugged his hand down in the kit's direction to further emphasize Myers' intent.

"O-okay."

Rather than reach down, Jake leaned against the bus to carefully sit. He popped open the kit and found a bottle of styptic and an abdominal dressing.

A chill flashed through him: it was just what he needed.

Jake sent a cautious glance at Myers, whose attention had drifted to the fog-filled yard, before setting it beside his leg. In fits and starts he pulled open his jacket, pausing whenever the pain of his abdominal muscles moving spiked too high. He lifted his shirt and went lightheaded as it peeled away and revealed the puncture wound, edges torn to display the cut layers of yellow fat and red muscle underneath. A fresh surge of blood escaped as what little had congealed ripped off with the fabric.

At least everything was still inside.

Jake traced the skin just above the edge of the cut, mentally mapping the length of it to the size of the bandage. It was close, but it should cover the wound just fine. First he had to use the styptic, which would stop the bleeding. It sucked to use but was effective.

His fingertip dropped too low and Jake choked out a low moan at the painful jolt even that slight touch caused.

An intense prickling all over his body alerted him to the return of Myers' attention.

He bit down on the edge of his shirt both to keep it out of the way and because he knew the next step would go beyond agony. After a quick inhale through his nose, he dumped the styptic powder over his stomach.

Squeezing the bottle so hard the plastic cracked, Jake groaned and chewed on the shirt in his mouth, eyes watering. His entire abdomen burned like he'd poured acid over himself. He slammed his free hand on the ground, fingers tearing into the dirt as he tried to focus on anything else beyond the pain. When his world widened beyond the screaming of his own nerves, Jake blinked away the tears threatening to fall only to freeze as the blurry outline before him solidified. Myers had practically teleported on top of him, far too close. Even down on one knee, his massive size eclipsed Jake.

Myers watched him closely as Jake shifted, the phantom touch returning to fall across him like a heavy blanket.

"I can't finish this way," Jake pointed out, waving at the open kit beside him. "Do you want me to heal or not?"

Myers didn't move an inch.

Jake pressed his lips together to prevent sighing out loud. He glanced down at his stomach, a dark scab already sealing the cut closed.

At the surface, his nerve endings went numb as the styptic spread to the deeper ache inside his abdomen. The entity's twisting of the human body's limitations meant they could suffer wounds that should have killed them. The medical kits went beyond their benign appearance to work like magic. Even the smaller cut on his face and bump on his head that he'd mostly forgotten about disappeared.

Just visible behind the slope of Myers' shoulder, a crow fluttered down onto a nearby rock with its dark eyes trained on them. Would the entity even allow this? There were times when the killers didn't seem to try so hard to kill the survivors, but helping them to heal and escape was another thing entirely. Even if it was a means to catch Laurie, Jake felt more nervous at its possible intervention than Myers hovering over him. The crow cocked its head from side to side as if examining them but otherwise was still. The entity wouldn't dissolve the trial early, too curious and hungry. The entity's interest was oppressive, too much like the first time Jake and Myers— he dropped that train of thought.

The sudden movement of Myers' shoulder broke his staring contest with the bird. Myers reached for his neck and Jake braced for a choke-hold. Instead, Myers' fingertips ran over the bandage hiding his mark. Jake stayed still as he pulled it away. It fluttered down in the scant space between Jake's spread thighs and where Myers' knee was planted.

Cold air trickled across the newly exposed skin. It didn't hurt and who knew what it looked like now. Myers examined it closely, leaning even further into Jake's space. This close he could smell Myers' skin underneath all the blood.

Then Myers pressed his thumb directly on top of the mark.

This time there was no vision of himself.

He couldn't see anything at all. The whispers climbed out of the darkness, guttural voices scrambling over each other to rise into hoarse, distorted screams. They pressed on the inside of his skull like the Entity's claws, their pointed edges scratching and clawing. The wordless demands for violence accompanied the stabbing pain and Jake blindly flailed. The building pressure in his head abruptly eased and he was back in his own body.

The whispers withdrew under his own distant, distraught gasps. Wetness drained from his ear, above the mark, just like in the woods. This time it was worse as Jake knew from the tinny, ringing echo in his ear that something had ruptured. Jake winced as he rubbed at it. If the bond allowed him to see from Myers' eyes, did that mean those terrible sounds were what Myers heard all the time?

Undeterred, Myers pulled up his mask and leaned closer.

"No way," Jake said, bringing his arms between them. He brought his chin down in an attempt to hide the mark. "I don't want to hear that again."

#fic #ferromagnetism series #dead by daylight #jake park #Michael Myers #jayers

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brownskinsugarplum76 · 5 years

Text

Eye of the Storm, Ch 4

I've had much of this written for a while, but I got caught up on whether I should write in a less important part. I decided against it. So, what we have is pseudo-smut (it'll make sense shortly) and more heartfelt road trip conversation and flirting. The real-life smut should go down with the next chapter! ❤️❤️❤️

To catch up, the Eye of the Storm master post is here.

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Robert lowered himself on top of Maggie and continued his gentle thrusting. They had shared a frenzied, steamy moment earlier, and now, with that out of the way, he was expressing his feelings with every cell of his body. He was as close to her as two people could possibly be. He littered her with kisses and the tickling sensation of his long curls in constant motion, and he lulled her on the slow road to oblivion with the heat of his body and his metronome-regular strokes. Maggie telegraphed how she cared for Robert in much the same way, grasping him and meeting his movements, wishing their coupling could last forever. He growled softly in her ear and--

“--Earth to Maggie! Where'd you run off to in your head, love?” Robert gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She jolted out of the fantasy that had occupied her mind for the last few miles on the road.

“I, uh…”

“Were you thinking about bananas and lemons, and the squeezing of lemons? Mine, to be specific?” He smiled his most mischievous smile, knowing he was right.

“Yes, Robert. You caught me thinking about tonight. You could say I'm a little impatient to be alone with you.”

“Your smile is what tipped me off. I must've been doing an exceptionally bang-up job… Rest assured, I'll meet every last one of your expectations tonight.”

He nipped at her earlobe and traced small circles on her thigh for good measure. “Quite frankly, if I was 100 percent healed, I would have asked you to pull off the road for a proper reunion a while ago, but the yoga I'd have to bend into in your darling automobile on a bum ankle…”

“Well, excuse me for not having a limo for you, Your Highness.” She gave Robert's leg a playful shove while she kept her eyes on the road, but a tiny smile was visible on her face.

“You know, you can drive us around in my Land-Rover. She's not had much of a workout in quite some time. Benji's been using his Cadillac when we go out.”

“Sure, I can do that,” she said, nodding her head.

“And then you can get your fix of me anywhere. And I of you.” His smile warmed her heart and her core at the same time. Robert was the only man who could make her feel loving and lustful at the same time. And she would never get enough of it.

“So, what have you been doing with your time off of your feet? Writing new songs? Re-reading your Tolkien books? Practicing new sexy faces for your concerts?” Maggie quickly glanced at Robert before turning her eyes back to the road.

“A little bit of this, and a little bit of that, but not much of anything productive, I'm afraid.”

He turned to Maggie, studying her familiar profile and smiling. “Well, I did write some songs, of course. One can't help but be inspired when they're living in paradise, yeah? But scenery notwithstanding, many of the songs that you'll hear on the new album do have a bit of… Angst, shall we say.”

“Pobrecito… Poor, dear Robert,” she said, glancing at him briefly. “Did it help any to get your feelings out on paper? Out of your head?”

“It did at the time, but now I hope I didn't get too moody. The fans are expecting us to serve as their aphrodisiac, as it were, not make them weep into their bloody cans of Miller.”

“I noticed that you were silent when we drove past the billboard for the album earlier. Is that why? Pre-release jitters? I'm sure it will be fine. Everyone is hungry for some new music from you all.”

“That's what G keeps saying…”

“And you don't believe it? The band with unbelievable concert attendance numbers and mountains of records sold, all without really breaking a sweat?”

“I do believe it, but… Things are different… I'm different. I won't be wild, Black Country Robert, prancing about on the stage.”

Maggie turned down the music to focus on Robert.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm going to give ‘em everything I've got, same as always, but I don't seem to have a prance left in me right now. It's going to be baby steps as I continue to heal, you know? I'll dream up a different way wiggle my ass and look good. Bonzo's right, no one will ever take that away from me, at least.”

“I, for one, am counting on some ass shaking and strong singing,” Maggie said reassuringly. “I know you'll be back to your old self once you get in front of an audience.”

“But beyond how I feel physically, I think I'm losing my zeal for tour life,” he continued. “It's not enough to just be the happy, horny kid who sang every day and partied every night, you know? I'm excited, but I'm also restless. I need to know my future has something more than singing the same songs every night, even if we do throw something a little different in here and there.”

“What do you want to do instead?” Maggie asked.

“That I don't know, Mags… For a brief moment I considered a solo album, or just saying fuck it and becoming a teacher or something, but…”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Ahhhhh… Bugger that! Enough self-pity blathering and castles in the sand…” He gestured with his hand as though the movement could cast his mood away. “I'm sure you don't want to hear all of my ‘woe is me, poor little rock star’ bullshit. I haven't even asked you about your feelings. I'm sorry, love, you're the one leaping blindly into the abyss of touring a first album. What's on your mind?”

“I am beyond excited. Everything is moving so fast, everything I'd always hoped would happen. I feel really blessed. We all do.”

“It sounds like you're going to add a ‘but’?”

“But the waiting is hard! I wish we could start tomorrow and get that first concert out of the way. I want to know if they're going to love us or not.”

“How have the album sales been?”

“There has been some interest. San Diego especially. People who know us from the dive bars down there have continued to support us.”

“What about singles? Radio play?”

“We have one single, but it seems that no one knows what to do with it. Rock radio is skittish, I think because there's a woman fronting the band. It's either that or our Latin influences that make us “unique,” as everyone likes to phrase it. But we're not getting much Latin radio play, and we're too rock for black radio… It's like we don't have a natural home or built-in audience.”

“I think there's a place for you lot. Good music always finds a way, no matter how different it is.” Robert stroked her hair reassuringly.

“From your mouth to God's ears, Robert.”

“I think you're all amazing. Your brother, his rhythm! And he hits hard, almost as hard as Bonzo. You all play so tight. You make absolute bedlam in the audience. Trust me. I was there. If your record captured any of that, and I'm sure it did, you're good as gold.”

Maggie smiled at the memory of Robert coming to one of their concerts a few years ago. The spectacle of rock royalty in the audience--he insisted on watching from the front row--did die down quickly once the concert was underway. The crowd couldn't get enough of her band, and the noise before the encore was deafening. Robert was right, it was a night that made them all believe they were on the way.

“You'll have people across the country dancing in no time. And when you strut onstage in the outfits I have in mind, if you'll have them… There might be some news reports of this Prince of Peace getting into fights over the horny hordes of fans getting too close to his woman…”

Maggie didn't know whether to laugh or thank him, or pull over to show him a different form of gratitude. “I love this fantasy you're painting, Robert.” She also liked that he called her his woman.

“Mark my words, Mags, it will be a reality.”

Her smile was uncontrollable. “Now, back to you. You know what your problem is, Robert?”

“Tell me.”

“I think you'd believe that things will go fine if someone prettier than G was trying to cheer you up.”

He stared innocently at Maggie, and she caught his puppy dog gaze in her periphery. “You? What do you have in mind for a mopey bloke like me?”

“Everything you like, Robert. I have lots of ways to make you forget all your worries.” Maggie flashed a wicked smile at Robert before turning her attention back to the road.

“Don't tease me, woman…”

She smiled smugly as she kept driving.

Robert yawned and looked out the window. They were almost at Maggie's place with her brother. She was lost in thought again, with her musings ping-ponging from sex with Robert to his fragile mood, to her own anxieties. She asked herself whether her band should be practicing more, fretted about the order of their set list, wondered if anyone would show up when they weren't in San Diego.

Her fitful rumination was interrupted by Robert's soft snore. He had fallen asleep with his head leaning against the car window.

She glanced at him briefly and smiled at how comfortable he was with her. He felt safe enough to unpack his deepest struggles, and she was delighted that he felt that way.

She was also glad that their relationship was growing stronger. They were no longer in a new acquaintance phase, for which the most mundane conversation was volleyed back and forth to prevent awkward silences. Robert could share what was on his mind, or he could sit quietly while listening to the radio or looking out the window, while he found some reassuring way to touch her.

She thought of their ease with each other in the car as the equivalent of the couples on TV who would comfortably sit side by side in bed, one person reading a book, the other doing a crossword puzzle. It was the kind of relationship she wanted with Robert. She craved a partnership of two people who felt secure enough to be vulnerable with each other or tend to their private goals and interests as needed, without straying too far from each other. He seemed as willing to live that way as much as she was.

She smiled to herself. It was exactly what she needed while everything else in her life was so uncertain.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

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harry-writings · 6 years

Text

Never Leaving Your Side

- The one where Harry misses the most important night of Y/n’s life.

Part 1

Masterlist

Harry almost wishes Y/n never came back home.

It sounds horrible, but he genuinely feels like he’s going mental seeing Y/n every day and knowing he has to keep his distance from her. Not being able to touch her or talk to her when she’s always around is the most excruciating thing he’s ever had to do.

He’s had to sleep without her for nearly a week now and it’s starting to take a toll on him. He’s never slept well on his own—even as an adult—so having Y/n beside him was absolutely essential for him to get a good night’s rest. So having spent the past five nights in an empty bed when he can practically feel her neglect from the other side of the wall, makes it so hard for him to find enough comfort to sleep peacefully.

Each morning he’s woken her up with coffee and breakfast ready on the kitchen table for her wake, leaving her a notecard saying when he’ll be home and what he’ll be bringing back for dinner that day. And usually, she’ll accept her dinner with a shy smile and settle for casual conversation as they munch on their last meal of the day, but it’s not the same.

Harry feels her slipping away.

He supposes that’s why she insisted on staying home instead of crashing at his mum’s house, or renting out a hotel room until everything gets resolved. This is his punishment. This is his own personal hell and she well knows how much it’s ruining him from the inside out.

But on the sixth night tossing and turning alone in their king bed, he just isn't having it anymore. Almost a week and they have made no progress in their relationship and he knows it’s his fault. This entire situation is his fault and he’s only making it worse by not trying to fix it. He’s just letting himself sulk in his regret and guilt rather than using them as a way to change their relationship.

And maybe that’s what she wanted in the long run. Maybe she stayed home in hopes that he’d stop at no limits to gain her trust back, or fight for his life to keep her in his, not to drive him absolutely fucking mental. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much pain he put her through, she’d never put him through the same.

At least that’s what he hopes.

But no matter what the reason, he refuses to let her sleep alone when she already feels like he isn’t there for her enough. He needs her to know that he’s always going to be beside her, holding her up whenever she feels down. Because even though he’s failed to prove it to her, he's her biggest supporter and he knows that.

He crawls out of bed after failing to fall asleep for nearly two hours now, untangling himself from the duvets and halfheartedly making his way over to the guest bedroom.

With all the lights in the hall off, Harry blindly wiggles the doorknob until the door creeks open. The moonlight is hitting perfectly against Y/n’s silhouette and his heart swells at the sight of her curled beneath the sheets as her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes.

He always found her the most beautiful while she was asleep—even though she really was always beautiful, but he was always so intrigued by how effortlessly gorgeous she was. Whether she had fallen asleep with makeup from the night before or fell asleep with her bare skin and unbrushed hair, she never failed to take his breath away.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if there was ever a day he would have to fall asleep without seeing her face again.

He takes a weary step into the bedroom, his movements slow as she tries to shut the door behind him without waking her up. Apart of him would die if she knew his intentions and decided to reject them, even if they were the most harmless.

He creeps to the empty side of the bed, gentle to push the duvets back and attempt to crawl in beside her. But this bed is much smaller than the one they used to share, and since Y/n hasn’t been getting the best sleep of her life, either, she took full advantage of the space she had to herself to try and get comfortable enough to sleep.

There’s no room for him. And whether it was intentional for her to do that or not, he doesn’t allow it to get in his way of her.

He pushes the pads of his fingers into her side softly, shaking her body in hopes that she’d either roll over absentmindedly or wake up just enough to give him the space he needs to lay in the empty space.

“Hey, pretty girl. Could you move over for me?”

Y/n flutters her eyes open at the hushed tone, her half-awake state making it hard for her to comprehend what was happening. But when she sees Harry’s tired eyes staring right into hers, everything starts to make sense.

She can’t lie, she does feel relieved that Harry’s going to sleep with her tonight. No matter how upset she’s been and how much she’s trying to avoid him, sleeping without him is an absolute wreck. It’s cold and lonely and hopeless—so hopeless there have been one too many restless nights where all she was capable of doing was rolling around to find a somewhat comfortable position.

So she doesn’t deny him her permission to sleep beside her, rolling over silently until she’s facing away from him, leaving the perfect amount of room for him to slide under the covers on his side of the bed.

Her eyes are fixed on the wall as she feels Harry stir into a comfortable position, not making any move to touch her because he figures it would be inappropriate. But she doesn’t know if she still wants her space or if she wants him all over.

“Why are you here?” Her voice is nothing but a whisper, pain, and exhaustion laced lazily in her words.

Harry ghostly runs his fingers along the bottom of her back, just enough to where she can feel him but not too much for her to feel uncomfortable.

“Because I’m never leaving your side again.”

It was just a little over a month when Harry released his first single from his second album.

Due to the longer-than-anticipated wait between his last tour and the second album, there’s been a rush between Harry and his crew, his family, and his fans to finally put something out and he couldn’t have been more excited to finally pick up where he left off.

His single ended up becoming the fastest selling song in less than 24 hours in nearly 80 countries, beating records and climbing his way up on the charts much faster than they predicted. This was definitely one of his biggest accomplishments and every emotion inside of him was building up beyond his containment.

But the feelings didn’t last very long.

When the news broke to Y/n, there was a part deep inside of him that prayed she would suddenly let go of all the pain she’s been enduring and somehow find it in her heart to take their relationship even further. And while she did show some support, it wasn’t nearly as strong as every other time he’d advanced in his career.

Normally, she would latch onto his body with excitement, press her lips against his, and treat him to a weekend getaway he deserved after all the hard work he’s been put himself through. Sometimes, she’d even host the parties and plan all the celebrations just so that everyone could be there to support him and his career all at once.

She never failed to go above and beyond for him. Even in her tight schedules, she always made time to congratulate him and show him just how much of an impact he was making on everyone. She’d pour her blood, sweat, and tears for everything he’s ever done.

But this time—this time was different.

There was no latching or kissing, no parties or weekend getaways—just a small kiss to his cheek, a halfhearted smile, and a quiet I knew you would.

And knowing that that’s all she was willing to give him tore him apart from the inside out.

The most heartbreaking part was knowing that the single was written about her. What was probably the most intimate and personal song he’s ever released—all about the woman he loves most—happened to be the only song that Y/n wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Maybe she did acknowledge it and she’s just giving him a taste of his own medicine. In the end, this was exactly what he did to her—if not, so much kinder than what he did to her—so this is the perfect opportunity for her to spit it all back in his face.

But that’s not her. Because even though what she’s doing is leaving him picking at his skin, she hasn’t broken any promises to him. She didn’t promise that she’d be the most supportive whenever the song came out, she didn’t promise anything extravagant, she didn’t promise to be there for him just to leave him alone to celebrate by himself.

She’s just so hurt that she doesn’t know what to do, and he knows that. This isn’t some type of revenge to get under his skin and into his head. No, this is her holding back from what she truly wants to do because if she doesn’t hold herself back, she’ll just end up all alone and hurt again.

But even so, it seemed as though everything else didn’t matter. Although the hype he’s received from his friends and family made all the work worth-while, he’d still fall asleep feeling as though a part of him was missing—like he didn’t do enough for her.

It’s when Mitch decided to have a get together for the release that he decides to talk to her about it. He isn’t even sure if she’s going to attend whatever the hell Mitch has planned, but it won’t stop him from trying to fix the mess he’s made.

He just wants to hear it. All he wants is to hear Y/n say how proud and happy she is for him—tell him how much the song means to her. Hell, even just some sign of support and gratitude would at least put him to rest tonight, but a big part of him knows that it’s going to take so much more work than he feels he’s capable of.

But he has to fight for her now. It’s just short of a month and a half now and he’s falling apart at the seems. He has everything in the world, yet he feels like he’s losing all of it the more he loses her. Because at the end of the day, she’s all he wants and she’s all he needs and she doesn’t even have a goddamn clue.

He walks tentatively toward the bathroom they once shared, watching Y/n through the mirror as she rearranges the shelves that have always given her a hard time, a scoff on her face as she tries to get everything all together.

It takes everything in Harry not to run to her from where he stands, but he knows that if he gives into his instincts, it’ll only make matters worse and he can’t afford to push any more boundaries or make anymore mistakes.

He rubs his hands nervously down his sides, wanting to puke at the material as it reminds him of where he’ll be tonight, without her being by his side—where he’ll be off pretending to have a good time when his girlfriend is going to be at home pretending she isn’t hurting.

The thought alone makes him sick to his stomach.

“Are you—“ He hesitates, knowing that the questions is completely and utterly selfish but he doesn’t care. He’ll always be selfish when it comes to her and there’s nothing that can stop that. But knowing that she hasn’t even said how she felt about everything makes him want to tear his own heart out. “Are you proud of me?”

Y/n's heart hurts at just how sad he is about the situation, almost to the point where she gives up on her own self just so she can show him all the support he truly deserves. And she really almost does, but she knows that if she did, at the end of the day, she’d fall asleep knowing she’d be the only one hurt again.

And she just wants to stop being so fucking hurt all the time.

She sighs heavily, clicking her tongue as she stands up from her place against the wall to walk to where he stands. He looks lifeless and hopeless the more she looks at him—eyes stagnant and full of tears, tie hung loosely from his neck—so she places a reassuring hand right where his heart lay, patting her fingertips softly against his chest.

“Of course I’m proud of you. I’m proud of everything you do, I just—I really don’t know how to feel anymore, H. I love you and if I wasn’t so upset about what you did to me, I would have showed you in more ways than one just how much I am.”

Her fingers absentmindedly fiddle with his tie so that she can fix the loose and wrinkles parts because even though Harry knows full well how to work his way around a tie, he always loved how intimate it was to have her do it.

But she can’t find the heart to look him in the eye because she knows she’ll give into the eyes that made her fall oh, so in love with him, and this is no time to stand down. She needs to hold her own and be there for herself more than anybody else can because at this point; if she betrays herself the way he betrayed her, she’d have nothing left to fight for.

She’d have nothing left, and she has to make him understand why this has affected her so deeply.

"But Harry, I refuse to be the only one putting in that kind of effort in this relationship. It hurts and the only way for you to understand where I’m coming from is if you feel it too. And I absolutely hate knowing that I have to do this to you but you have to see why it’s so damn hard for me to look at you and have this terrible, horrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing you won’t always be there."

He quickly grabs her hand with his, bringing their intertwined fingers closer to his chest as if to pull her in closer. He squeezes his eyes shut because it breaks him to know this is how she’s feeling. Knowing that he’s robbed her of her trust over a stupid, selfish decision makes him want to drop everything he’s ever had just to make it up to her.

And there’s so much he has to say but he doesn’t even know if she’ll listen to him. He’s broken his promises to her so fucking much that his words lost their value. His words mean absolutely nothing to her now, and all that she can depend on is what he does to show her how much she means to him.

But he hasn’t had the chance to show her anything because he’s barely seen her over the past month and she’s been so depressed that she’s lost interest in nearly everything she’s ever loved. He’s taken so much from her that he doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Baby, please listen to me. I know I’ve said so much that I’ve ended up going against but this is my last chance and I’m begging you to please, please listen to me.”

He’s on the brink of tears as he moves his hands to cup her face, willing to do absolutely anything if it means she can believe in him again.

And to see him in this state of mind makes her feel as if she’s gone too far. Perhaps the distance wasn’t the best option, or the silent treatment was prolonging the process. She can tell by the way his skin is so pale and the way his eyes are so sunken and dark that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. It even looks as though he hasn’t been taking care of himself as much as he should be and she can’t help but suddenly feel like this is all her fault.

He hurt her, so much, but she’s hurting him too—much more than she intended.

“These past couple of days have been absolute hell knowing I didn’t have your full support. I had millions and millions of people tweeting me, messaging me, emailing me all these things about how happy they were for me, but none of them even amounted to how much it would have meant to me if it were you saying them. It was almost as if they weren’t really there for me because apart of me was missing knowing I didn’t have you.”

And whether it was in her right to be upset by what he said, Y/n feels like a knife has been twisted inside of her heart.

That’s everything she’s been feeling—if not, worse—and knowing that he’s the one who’s making it seem like she is doing this to him is enough to get her to clench her teeth. None of this would have happened if he had just kept his word and been by her side through it all.

But he didn’t. He never has.

She feels a pit of sadness, anger, and envy all deep inside of her and she’s never had a cluster of opposing emotions all at once. If she knew how to handle all this, she would have found a way, but all she can manage to do is cry and cry and cry until she can get it all through his head.

“Everyone’s always there for you, Harry! Including me! Don’t you see it?! You have everyone wrapped around your finger and it’s just—all I have is you. You’re all I’ve got. I’ll never be able to have special dinners, or parties, or anything for my accomplishments because I don’t have anyone. If one person doesn’t show up to one of your celebrations it wouldn’t even matter because everyone else is there to make up for it. I don’t have you and it’s like there’s no point in even me being there because you’re my other half. If there’s no you, there’s no me.”

By now, they’re both nearly falling to their knees in despair. Everything that they’ve been feeling for the past month is now giving out and since this is the closest they’ve been in a while, neither of them intend on leaving any time soon.

Besides, there’s still so much that remains broken and they both know it all won’t get fixed by the time the party starts, but it’ll be a big step in the right direction to keep them together.

Y/n wipes the tears under her eyes, lips quivering and fingers shaking as she tries to breathe through the pain. But everything is coming back to her—his empty chair, his reason for not being there, that god-awful feeling in her chest when she realized there was another promise broken—and she just can’t take it anymore.

She sinks to her knees in agony, feeling as though this relationship is just another loss in her life of losing. She doesn’t know what would be left for her if her and Harry don’t end up working out. He’s her entire fucking life and she genuinely feels like she’d have nothing left to try to live for if he gives up on her.

She clenches her fist around the fabric of her t-shirt, wet sobs falling from her mouth to the point where she can barely breathe and Harry crumbles when he sees her state of hysteria.

He kneels to the ground in front of her, his head falling in between her knees in absolute surrender. Watching the love of his life fall apart all because of his wrongdoing is slowly killing him from the inside out. He swears he’s going to lose his sanity if he has to look at the pain in her eyes anymore.

She brushes his hair in between her shaking fingers, trying to catch her breath before she collapses from a broken heart.

“You’ll never have to go through the pain of the most important people in your life not being able to be by your side. You’re the center of everyone’s world—including mine—that’s why nobody would even think of doing that to you! You have family, friends, producers, teams, publishers. You have it all. You’re my family, you’re my best friend, my team, my everything, and it’s just so hard knowing I can never be all that for you.”

She lifts his face from her knees so that she can get a proper look at him, and her heart tears in two when she sees the devastated look in his eyes. Filled with leaking tears, she gently runs the pads of her thumbs along his cheeks to wipe away the remaining sadness before her fingers make their way to the roots of his hair.

“And that’s okay, H. I don’t expect to be everything to you because you’ve got it so good. Anyone in this world would be so lucky to live the life you do, so I could never blame you for that. I just don’t know if I can handle seeing all those people for you tonight and feeling like I’m just another one on your list.”

His heart drops and the air is sucked right out of him at the thought for Y/n ever feeling like anything less than his girlfriend. If he had known that she felt like just another part of his career, he would have done so much more to show her just how much she’s worth. He would have tried harder to fight for her, he would have given up more of his time for her, he would have sacrificed so much more of his life for her.

But he should have fucking seen it coming. The signs were everywhere—the number of times he couldn’t be there to support her, the number of times he had let her down, the number of times he put his own needs in front of hers, and the number of times he made her give up everything for him—he should have never expected anything less.

He didn’t make her feel like the love of his life. He made her feel like an option.

And before he could even find the strength to respond, she places a gentle kiss on his forehead before making her way to her bedroom, leaving Harry sunken to his knees with yet another part of his heart broken.

All Harry can think about is how Y/n could have never been more wrong.

Harry’s never felt so empty in a room full of people. He’s so out of it that he’s not even trying to pretend he’s anywhere other than his own head. He’ll greet everyone who decided to attend but that’s all the effort he can muster before feeling the need to break down.

Every time he hears the door open he prays that Y/n’s had a change of heart and decided to come. It’s an absolute long shot but he can barely function knowing she’s somewhere other than with him. And he swears his heart drops more and more with each face he sees that isn’t hers.

And to make the night even worse, nobody at this entire party has even notices his strange behavior. He feels as if he’s watching his life from a window of a locked room—so disoriented and disconnected that he genuinely feel like nothing is real.

It just goes to show how fucking wrong she is. Because when it comes down to it, even though he seems like he has everything, he really doesn’t. There’s always something that feels unfulfilled, as if he has’t completely reached his full potential or hasn’t found his true purpose in this world.

Even in the midst of his popularity, he’s missing his true self. He's never been able to be himself since the start of his career, which has always been his biggest internal struggle. He feels like he’s never had the time to discover himself or properly grow because he was defined by contracts and the media.

Y/n was the only person that was able to bring out his true self. Throughout their entire relationship, she brought out sides of him that were forced to be hidden from the rest of the world and she did it so effortlessly. That was what made him fall so madly in love with her—she made him so fearless and unapologetic and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Everything he’s been missing he found when he found her. She’s his purpose, his better half, his reason for working so damn hard every day. She’s his absolute everything and if he loses her, he’d lose the only thing that truly defines him and he doesn’t know if he could take it.

“Holding up well?” Gemma asks, her body inching towards his from where she stood across the room.

He looks like he’s about to crack at any given moment. She fears that talking about the situation would absolutely destroy him and give him no choice but to break down in front of everyone at this party. But she hopes that by showing him that someone is there for him, he’ll muster up his strength to pull through his act just a couple more hours before it’s time for everyone to head home.

He looks up from his trance on the edge of his glass, eyes he didn’t even know were tearing up making their way to Gemma's. He sighs heavily, blinking forcefully and sniffling his nose as he pushes his shoulders back—pulling himself together and hoping to god he can make it through the rest of the night.

“That noticeable, huh?” He chuckles softly, hanging his head down as he takes in a deep breath. “I feel like shit. I just want this night to be over already so that I don’t have to put on a show anymore.”

Gemma nods silently, pursing her lips together as she occupies the space next to him. She wraps her arm around his torso softly, giving it a soft squeeze to reassure him that it’s okay to talk—that it’s okay for him to feel this way even when he shouldn’t.

He’s lost his best friend and girlfriend and all he needs is for someone to listen to him since Y/n hasn’t been. Even if it is talked about in a room full of people, he just needs someone to reassure him that it’s temporary—the fighting, the lost trust, the doubts—they’re all temporary and will all be okay in the end.

He needs to hear it from somebody.

“I just want to go home and work things out with her. I can’t stay here knowing she’s not with me because I made her so upset. I’m the one who should be at home, in bed, by myself while she has fun and lives her life because that’s what she deserves. Not me.”

He scrunches his face as the emotions pass through him again, his fingers gripping the glass tighter into the palm of his hand as he slowly starts to lose control over his thoughts.

“I’m the one who fucked everything up, so why in the goddamn world is it me that’s still trying to have fun while she’s in our bed thinking I don’t love her right? She needs me, just like she needed me before, and I’m doing exactly what I did last time—being there for myself instead of being there for her.”

And suddenly, there’s a rush in his bones that he can’t quite shake. This is the first time in a month he’s had the itch to finally do something about it rather than mope on his bed not making any other effort.

He wants to forget about this stupid fucking party. He wants to forget about all the people who showed up tonight. He wants to forget about everything that’s ever gotten in his way of Y/n and focus on what truly fucking matters—getting her love and trust back.

And whether he deserves it all back or not, there’s finally some fight in his blood and he can’t ignore it this time. This is his final chance to get the love of his life back and nothing is getting in his way. Not anymore.

And with just one last push, he leaves the party and the people behind, just like he should have a month ago.

“Sorry, Gem. I have to do what I’ve been too coward to do. I have to get my girl back."

#harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #harry styles preferences #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #one direction one shot #one direction dirty one shot #one direction preferences

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jigensass · 5 years

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Here we are (this is very long so TL;DR this blog is getting archived)

It’s been over a week since I’ve taken a hiatus and a few close people know about what has happened. And I have made a decision in response to an insight meditation retreat I took over the course of this weekend.

I’m going to be dropping roleplaying Stephen and possibly roleplaying altogether.

First, after 5 years of this blog, you’re probably wondering why. Well, I woke up.

Yes, I’m a talented writer and I can weave your fantasies into realities. Yes, I enjoy every single person I have written for. You’re not the problem. My writings are the problem that is hurting my lifestyle and it leads to toxic behavior.

Ever since I decided to go into this hiatus and a few days prior, I’ve been peeling back that I am more sensitive than others to certain situations and at sometimes have the ability to as previously stated, weave fantasies into realities and make them feel as real as possible. This can be problematic when I get in too deep. So much as I have in the past without even realizing, begin to dissociate the line and my own reality and the one I made that I have fallen in love with. The two begin to crossover and I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late. This had led to multiple people getting hurt and I didn’t even know I was doing it. Why has this been happening for so long and I’m noticing it after 26 years? Well, no one kind of stopped me or I didn’t notice because when I was younger I lived in my own little world. And that own little world became the internet and then the internet started converging with the little world and I didn’t know what to do except the one thing I knew best: make up stories and not even realizing it, they became my own little world. It’s how I coped and got away from the actual reality that I lived in (school, work, family, etc).

Now how did Stephen come in? Well, (holy shit I’ve been in the sphere of Doctor Strange for 7.5 (8 years in the Marvel sphere) years now that’s the longest I’ve stuck to anything). There was a game on Facebook where I heard of him and at the time in 2010, there were only comics and the movie from 2006(7?) (I remember actually SEEING the commercial for the movie and asking ‘how is this guy a superhero he’s a doctor’ oh how my 13-year-old self was foolish).

I fell in love with Stephen’s character for one reason: he had all the powers of a god, yet he was still human. It would take me another 5 years to realize where my path was actually headed with this magic man and the actual man named Benedict Cumberbatch.

Along the way, since this blog was created and many rp threads later, there were many times I felt so absorbed into my work that even though I had an external life with friends and people I knew. It became...a problem. It was obvious when I began to piss off my friends in college for trying to gain this...atmosphere of Stephen Strange and then try to be myself.

But I didn’t know who ‘Crystal’ was for...like ever. Only until after this weekend did I find out this answer (stay tuned).

I kept trying different things, nothing felt good. I didn’t feel like a human being unless I was by myself clacking away at a keyboard and being absorbed with the Sorcerer Supreme who I (for the longest time) considered a reflection of who I was or what I wanted to be (at some point Magnus Bane got thrown into the pot in 2014 so that’s just a lovely stew...). It ate at me for years and I wasn’t even aware during points where I became lost that the parasite was there. The parasite was my power to get lost in worlds I created and then believe the world was still there in reality. And it (probably) hurt many real human beings in the process.

And just recently I yanked that parasite off and threw it away. Realizing that seeing Stephen as a reflection is dangerous and will get me pulled into the looking glass if I don’t stop.

So as of today for the sake of my mental health, this blog is being archived.

I’m not saying it was all bad. I wouldn’t be typing this because of roleplaying with one person in particular who, even though my coworkers were slapping me in the face (metaphorically, of course) and concerned for my life during the nine months of suffering I held at my new job, was AT THE TIME, the only person who could get through to me and wake me up. The reason this journey started because of a very deep wound that was still scarring, but this person was the one to be my guide on the path to just finding what I needed to figure out what the heck was going on.

About a month later after this realization, I joined a sangha and began meditation on a weekly basis or when I could. This (and to this day) practice has unearthed a lot of stuff that I’ve buried so deep that it blew my mind how messed up my childhood was. Why I was so...sarcastic...and had to make a joke to every serious detail...and impulsive...and...determined to get out of this hole. Like a certain....doctor

(No joke when I watched Doctor Strange in theatres in 2016 when this line was said I died laughing because of the tone and manner of how it was said was something I would do. I’m a sassy piece of shit IRL)

Back in late 2016/early 2017 right after I watched this movie, I remember wanting to embrace MCU Stephen with open arms. I felt the pain he was feeling, having to give up his mundane life to become the guardian of the Earth, and I wanted to take him down that journey of suffering, of realizing that he chose for the sake of his hands, provided him with....the power of a god yet he was still human (also I was stunned because he was (I BELIEVE right behind T’Challa) the FIRST Marvel main character to actually DIE on camera. As in no pulse, not coming back dead.

But instead I got female OCs wanting to bang and marry him, and the funk kicked itself right out the door. And this is when I got into experimentation. Demons, Mermen...the list goes on.

This is where it became obvious that Stephen was leaning towards men and less towards women and the relationships were slowly becoming....uninteresting. Either for me or the other person. Around this time this was when the shit hit the fan hard and I had a mental breakdown and contemplated suicide (it wasn’t the first time). Yeah, surprise~. The package gets nastier.

At this point, as many of you know, I was diagnosed with Attention Hyperactive Association Disorder (or ADHD) and I began taking medication which helped, but with the meditation beside it, this was where a nasty load of stuff boiled inside including:

Emotional and some Physical Abuse from my Parents

My mother almost killed me once. She nearly snapped my neck.

Emotional Abuse from Teachers and Peers in School

I was given a nickname that I just passively went with and in the end, I hated it. When I tried to change it, people didn’t listen to me.

I gave my opinion about how I did not enjoy Glee on Facebook. I was shunned by nearly every music department student.

Trust Issues that supported the Anxiety because of said Emotional Abuse (and for a point in my life, pretty sure I had Avoidant Personality Disorder)

I’ve been at the same job for over 2 years now and just last Friday I had to balls to tell someone my life was a dumpster fire.

Depression because I couldn’t hold/meet expectations that I had imagined as being next to perfect standards because of past emotional abuse to be under the impression I could meet nothing less (thus over the years I lowered my expectations, yet nothing changed). Sometimes I had suicidal thoughts and the only reason I didn’t do it was because I thought felt good to suffer

In turn, because I was abused emotionally in a certain manner that I thought that it was okay to do so when I couldn’t get a grounding of having things in my control as well because of my conditioning or just try to be noticed. At the time, it was the only way I knew how to put the board in my favor. It was when I did this and my boss wrote me up that I just...became silent. People wondered why I didn’t talk and then when I did, it was (and sometimes still is) in the most passive tone of observation. Over time I did learn this was one of the most unwholesome things I could do and I have still lost my footing in times of despair that I go back to this way of talking because I’m conditioned to beat myself up when something bad happens (and even during this weekend’s retreat those unwholesome thoughts came up).

So sorry for anyone I’ve hurt in the past because of this. I’ve disconnected with many because of my ignorance.

Thus the result of this toxic upbringing and my choice to follow it blindly led to a misunderstanding of relationships to the mundane level (romantic or platonic). Every situation that failed, I tried better. But it only felt worse since till this day every single one has failed, minus one or two, have all ended in some kind of disaster merely due to, what probably was my destructive behavior.

Even now typing this dumpster fire was difficult. Because I have 3 ways of responding

1. I’m a Bot Beep Boop How are you? Good! That’s Good!

2. I have a mask and there’s no one else here behind the ask

3. You sure you want to talk to ME? You sure you find me INTERESTING? You? Find me attractive?! Kay...Just warning you....*reveals the dumpster fire* You can go backward out the entrance door

So...yeah. I’ve never ‘felt’ until recently that my life “mattered”. That I was just...kind of an empty sponge. Day in, day out. Paying off debt for a job that I don’t even do anymore because I’m better at other things, like deduction. And working with data and information.

But anywho....if you’ve made it this far in “My Journey to Find out Who the Heck I Am” Congrats, you made it to this weekend’s insight meditation retreat. Because it was both terrible and uplifting at the same time.

yesterday we meditated for about 8ish hours and I wanted to kill myself (literally) from all the pain in my back. I questioned if I had to go see a chiropractor after it was all said and done. And then something came up that I noticed that I always was aware of.

The teacher kept referencing other teachers before her and near the end of it all when she would keep talking, the references were driving me nuts. Like, she just kept telling us to follow the Buddha like he was some holy person and it clicked: I don’t like organized religion because I’m being told how to do my practice. So when we went outside to walk, it all just kind of clicked when I found a bench off to the side of the business complex (our retreat was at our local sangha and non-residential). I sat on that bench and stared at the fence and the rain and said to myself ‘I am the River’, meaning I should go with the flow and acknowledge and be aware of any ripples made in me.

And that everything that was being instructed on this retreat had been told to me from another source: all of my coworkers who probably have not sat on a cushion in their life.

Today when we the teacher did a talk this morning about ‘self’ and ‘not self’, she, in short, repeated what I said from a quote by Thich Nhat Hanh (monk from Vietnam) about how we are not a river, but an ocean.

And even though the teacher’s story was relatable, it clicked who “Crystal” was and where Stephen stood in Crystal’s life.

Crystal is made up of many individuals parts and is just...Crystal. Stephen is not a reflection, but one of those many parts.

Even though I acknowledge this wisdom, I currently believe I do not (and might not) have the ability to return to my writings because of why I previously explained. It’s not you, it’s the current in the river.

So thank you to everyone who has befriended me along the way and helped me down this path.

Namaste.

*two minutes later* lemme find a Benedict Cumberbatch Buddhism gif to close this story, show me the money Google

youtube

GOD DAMN I-

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#out of the sanctum #well then

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thesffcorner · 5 years

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The Word Is Murder

I haven’t been conflicted on a book like this, in a while. The Word Is Murder is a murder-mystery novel written by Anthony Horowitz. It follows, Anthony Horowitz as he gets approached by a Detective named Hawthorne to write a book about a case he’s been called to consult on: the murder of a woman who just six hours prior, went to a funeral parlor and planned her own funeral. I read Anthony Horowitz’s previous book, The Magpie Murders, but before that I had been a massive fan of both his work for the Hercule Poirot and Midsomer Murders TV series. I had mixed feelings on The Magpie Murders; I thought the actual mystery was great, but there were many points in the book, where I felt like Horowitz used the characters as mouthpieces for his own opinions and frustrations with current politics, culture and the publishing industry, and I found I didn’t agree or like with a lot of what he said. So I’m having a real hard time discussing this book, because, unlike in Magpie Murders where you could make the argument that description is not endorsement, and that those are the opinions of the characters (even though one of the character seemed to be quite an obvious self-insert), here we are reading from the PoV of Anthony Horowitz. He has written himself into the story like John Byrne into The Trial of Galactus. It’s a literary device that creates interesting tension, because I was left wondering how much of the book was actual life, and how much was fiction. But it also created a massive problem, because it was very hard for me to distinguish between the opinions of the characters and the opinions of the author when they are literary telling me that I should view them as the same person. I am not in the habit of seeking out media that I know would piss me off. I am aware that homophobic, or racist, or xenophobic people exist, and I don’t think that authors should only be allowed to have them in their fiction as villains. But I’m just tired; tired of having to read about horrible men that I’m forced to sympathize with or excuse their behavior because they are ‘geniuses’; tired of uncritically presenting dangerous and violent ideas in fiction; tired of the unawareness of who your audience is, and alienating so many people because of callousness. Horowitz seems to really like layers in his book; there’s a lot of meta commentary in his work, not just on the genre of crime fiction, but also on the author as a person who is both responsible and part of the story. And unfortunately, to me this whole book read as one long meta on ‘problematic’ white men, and why we should just ignore their very obvious failings, and even sympathize with them because they are so good at their job. Before I go into that, let me talk about the actual plot of this book. This is a very classic, very Sherlock style murder mystery; there are many references to A Study in Scarlet, which at this point is probably the most overused and over-referenced Sherlock Holmes story. I will say that the references were relatively subtle, and the mystery was interesting enough to keep me engaged on its own level; I wanted to know who had killed Diana Cowper. I also appreciated that, like a good mystery writer, Horowitz had given us all of the clues to the case, and the misdirection came in how the characters interpreted the clues or what they considered important. I really liked the little argument between Hawthorne and Horowitz about what details are written into the book, and how mentioning or omitting the wrong thing can lead the audience into the wrong direction. The push and pull between writing something that is true and something that is compelling was very interesting, and I enjoyed the bickering between Hawthorne and Horowitz about that. Unfortunately, I have to say that I would have probably preferred this story, had Horowitz not written himself into the book. For starters, there’s a moment in the book, where he’s having a meeting with Peter Jackson and Steven Spielberg, that’s such a shark jumping moment, I had to pause the book and skim it. It made me feel such a severe case of second hand embarrassment, not to mention how much I LOATHED that Horowitz allowed Hawthorne to bully him into doing what he wanted anyway, and said nothing about it. The older I get, the more I sincerely dislike when people try to modernize Sherlock and Watson’s dynamic. The early seasons of the BBC show got away with it, because early on, Sherlock wasn’t a complete prick to Watson, and what they were dealing with was on national security threat levels. Sherlock wasn’t just some random detective, he was solving an international conspiracy, and even still, I disliked how easily manipulated and spineless Watson was in a lot of scenarios. Here, it’s even worse, because this isn’t supposed to be fiction; it’s supposed to be real life, and having Horowitz blindly decide to go chase down a lead and then getting himself in mortal peril was ludicrous! Not to mention Hawthorne BLAMING Horowitz for interrupting him during an investigation and which leads to a character’s death because Hawthorne gets distracted (????) and then again blaming Horowitz, instead of just telling him not to go anywhere near the lead suspect or just simply letting him tag along to Canterbury! The other thing I really hated, were the actual characters themselves. We will get to Horowitz, but I want to talk about Hawthorne first. Hawthorne is supposed to be the Sherlock type character; I liked that he had a chameleon type personality where he would change his character based on who he was talking to; what I didn’t like was his casual xenophobia and violent homophobia. The xenophobia was quite subtle, but once you were looking for it, it was there. He treats the immigrant, queer and black characters supremely poorly, is a lot meaner to them and snappier, while being needlessly kind to the white, straight women. I also didn’t understand why Horowitz had grown to care for/like Hawthorne; Hawthorne was a dick to Horowitz the whole time, he hijacked his life, his free time, his house, ruined what was probably the most important meeting in Horowitz’s life, he almost got him killed because he refused to talk to him, and was needlessly and purposefully secretive about his life. I also hated all the little jabs he does at the expense of Horowitz’s writing; if you hate the way he writes so much, then why the fuck do you want him to write your book? Then we have the fact that Sherlock, the most famous asexual character in the literary canon, was turned into a divorced straight guy who is a raging homophobe, for no goddamn reason! Why was it necessary to give Hawthorne a wife and child? So he can act all indignant around the queer characters? So he has a justification for pushing a 60 year old man down the stairs with handcuffs? His homophobia is never properly addressed; it doesn’t influences the plot, he doesn’t grow and change, and I downright refuse to believe that Hawthorne is a real human being and any of this happened. He is entirely Horowitz’s creation, so why would you chose to write about a white homophobe, instead of someone, anyone else? What message are you sending to your readers, queer readers who like your work and stories? That we should gloss over Hawthorne foaming at the mouth because a rich man dares to be openly gay, and calling him a pervert and implying he’s a pedophile, because why… to humanize him? Implying that he must be closeted himself, because it’s 20 fucking 19, and the stereotype that all homophobes are closeted queers still won’t fucking die. Then we have Horowitz. I’m assuming making himself kind of dense and very overprotective of his writing was intentional, but even still this character just made no sense. I like that he was proactive, but why on Earth did he agree to write with Hawthorne? Why was it necessary that this was himself, and not a character? Because if I am supposed to believe that Horowitz the character, really is Horowitz the author, then I am left with the uncomfortable realization that he is someone who is willing to excuse and gloss over blatant homophobia, and xenophobia, just because Hawthorne is good at his job. Plenty of people are good at their jobs, and they don’t go around calling gay men perverts and pedophiles, or push cuffed suspects down the stairs! Even the limp anger Horowitz has when he realizes that Hawthorne is a homophobe, is not because he actually cares about those gay friends he has; how it would make them feel knowing that he’s glorifying a man who wants them dead or in a mental hospital. No, he’s worried writing about Hawthorne might ruin his career. Then he uses this as a way to lash out at the ‘media’ who supposedly took his statement that a landlord refusing to provide a service to a gay couple on religious basis, as what it actually is: homophobic. No, death threats are never called for, but you don’t get to pretend people are just sensitive, because you exposed either your ignorance or your bigotry for the press to see. Then we have the ending. Horowitz is just petty? I mean sure, he did almost die, though I wonder how he didn’t realize until that point that the woman at the signing was related to Hawthorne. The mystery was good. Horowitz’s writing is always good. But I can’t get behind any of the messages, and I do NOT want to support a series about a homophobe and his author friend. I will not be continuing the series and I don’t think I will read anything else from Horowitz again.

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#the word is murder #the word is murder review #moni talks #book review

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thesydneyfeminists · 6 years

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Joss Whedon and Vee: It’s Complicated

By: Vee H.

Here’s the thing, I have a confusing relationship with Joss Whedon. If we were “Facebook official” (does anyone still call it that, or have I just revealed my true spiritual age of 105?) our relationship status would be “it’s complicated”. It didn’t used to be like that; as a teenager, I probably would have said my favourite tv show was Buffy The Vampire Slayer, with its spin-off, Angel, in second place. I fell in love with a premise that Whedon certainly did not create (one girl in all the world, blah blah) nor was he the best at executing it. Whether it was the characters he’d created, the actors playing them, the witty scripts and storylines – or a mix of all of these things, I was hooked. I staunchly defended the show, and by proxy, Whedon himself, from any harsh criticisms, and overlooked anything that now, as a 32-year-old, stands out as (and I hate using this word) problematic. I followed him from Buffy; to Angel, Dr Horrible’s Singalong Blog, Dollhouse (look, I skipped Firefly for some reason, I’ve tried dipping a toe in but space cowboys aren’t for me, it seems), and that’s not to mention the movies he had a hand in (not an exhaustive list) – The Cabin in the Woods, The Avengers and The Avengers Age of Ultron. I was loyal, if Whedon’s name was attached, most likely, I was all in. There was something comforting and familiar about his humour, the way he told his stories – all of them laughably simple but layered to make them more complex. Like Shrek and onions.

So maybe you’re wondering where I took a left turn, jumped off the Joss Whedon Fan Train, as it were. Admittedly, it was a slow process, it wasn’t just a running leap off into the unknown post-Whedon world. A few years after Angel ended, some things circulated in the Buffy and Angel fandoms, rumours of how he treated his favourites, and those who had fallen out of favour with him. One of those people being Charisma Carpenter. In 2009 at a convention, a fan asked her how she felt about Cordelia’s last story line in Angel and how the show changed after her departure. While she didn’t explicitly come out and say the exact reason, she hinted that Whedon had been mad at her for making certain life decisions that would directly impact the vision he had for his show. Rumours have long since abounded that, in short, he punished her for falling pregnant. Obviously, no one but Carpenter and Whedon know the true story and at the time of hearing it, I took it with a grain of salt, but that seedling sat in the back of my mind and began to grow. After all, it explained a lot about the fourth season of Angel, and why the character of Cordelia made a complete 360. It was here that my relationship with Whedon started to sour, I began to question how someone who was so outspoken and publicly proud to be a feminist, could treat a woman that he had worked with for nearly a decade like that.

With that knowledge in mind, it was hard not to view some of the dialogue and plot points in his media a little differently, this is only one small example, but looking back, there is way too much slut shaming going on in Buffy to the point where Faith (my favourite character in the whole series, don’t @ me, I’ll defend her until I die) is seen as a lesser person than everyone else, because other female characters (Willow, Cordelia and Buffy herself) have branded her as a “cleavagey slutbomb”. Sure, ok, she goes and kills a bunch of people but they focus on her being slut much more than a psychopath – and I feel the need to point out that we only actually saw her sleep with one person (Xander) by the time the slut shaming actually started, and not that we should count, but Faith only slept with three people (Xander, Robin, and Riley in Buffy’s body) in the whole course of the show. And she killed four humans. Which means in Joss Whedon’s world, if you’re a woman, having sex is a worse crime than murder. Not exactly a feminist message.

Cut to just last year, when Whedon’s ex-wife, Kai Cole, came out with a heartbreakingly honest account of just what went down in their marriage. Details of his infidelity, gaslighting and emotional manipulation came spilling out of her, and sure, you could argue she was an embittered ex-wife, wanting to hit him where it would hurt the most, but it’s interesting to note that Whedon himself has never actually outright denied or refuted these claims. And ok, infidelity does not strip you of the right to call yourself a feminist, but as written by Clementine Ford “it's about how he absolved himself in a letter sent to Cole after his infidelity had finally been exposed, blaming the women he cheated with, calling them "beautiful, needy, aggressive young women" who "surrounded" him.” It’s about how he used his feminist badge as a shield, claiming he was raised feminist so he just liked women better, or how he claimed in a letter to Cole, and I quote, “in many ways I was the HEIGHT of normal, in this culture. We’re taught to be providers and companions and at the same time, to conquer and acquire — specifically sexually — and I was pulling off both!”

With all of these things in mind, I started to see Whedon’s feminism as what it likely is; performative, a way to excuse his behaviour, a safeguard to hide behind as if to say, “oh no, I am not like other men at all, although I may act as other men do and fully accept my privilege as a cis-het white male, I’m different. Because I’m a feminist so when I do these terrible things to women, it’s ok, because I love, respect and support women.” Maybe he truly believes he’s a feminist, publicly, he flies the flag very well, and there’s no denying he’s profited from this label, heralded as a great feminist hero, an ally to women everywhere. It’s only when you start to scratch the surface, peel back the layers of the Shrek-onion, do you start to see him for what he (in my mind) really is. A dudebro playing at being the nice guy, someone who says all the right things but whose actions don’t quite match up, in fact, they crumble under any real scrutiny (for further proof of this, go read the leak of the Wonder Woman script, allegedly by Whedon. If you can make it through the whole thing, I’ll buy you a coffee – hell if you can make it through the first 10 pages).

Where does that leave Joss and I then? I admit that I’m conflicted, in a culture that has moved more and more towards “cancelling” people I’m the proverbial fence sitter. I acknowledge that there are people, media, etc that are problematic (the dreaded word) and I think everyone has the right to decide whether or not to consume said media. And for myself, personally, I endlessly flip between the two schools of thought. I won’t watch anything new with Johnny Depp, nor anything from Woody Allen, for example, but I have gone back (since Amber Heard spoke of her abuse at his hands) and watched some of Depp’s older movies. Some people have told me that they disagree, that even watching his older stuff is wrong, that I should ban all forms of Depp media from my life otherwise I am giving him my tacit approval, and that’s their choice and their right, but I suppose I’m still working out where I want to draw the line. I (maybe naively and incorrectly) believe that I can view a piece of media and know its flaws, or the flaws of the person behind it, but still somewhat enjoy it for what it is, or the story it’s telling.

Maybe that’s where I am with Whedon, somewhere in between, neither in the black or the white, somewhere in the shades of grey, because that’s how life is sometimes. I don’t think he’s a fully bad person, nor do I think he’s a fully good person. I think he’s human, and humans are inherently flawed. And maybe that feels like a cop out, but it’s all I have to offer right now. My view of him will never be as it once was, and thus my viewing of the media he has created and produced will likely reflect that. Re-watching Buffy and Angel has become a different experience; I’m no longer blindly swept up in the twists and turns, the witty repartee between characters, but instead viewing through a different lens, one where I question what message he's really trying to send, what his true intentions are. Instead of laughing at every single joke, they never quite land right with me anymore, my childish naivety gone, replaced with the simmering anger of a woman who wonders why sexist jokes and judgements are supposed to be funny, why the rape of a female character is an excusable plot device to teach men a lesson. It’s exhausting to second guess someone I don’t even know, but this is the brave new world that a combination of his behaviour and my own feminist journey has left me in. These days, I wouldn’t ever say “I love Joss Whedon”, like I would’ve back in my teenage years, more likely you’ll find me saying “I loved Buffy but God it’s weird to watch as an adult”.

Like I said, it’s complicated.

Sources:

http://oranges8hands.tumblr.com/post/117924895453/charisma-carpenter-transcript-on-being-fired

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_igTbXKPck

https://www.thewrap.com/joss-whedon-feminist-hypocrite-infidelity-affairs-ex-wife-kai-cole-says/

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/clementine-ford-why-joss-whedons-treatment-of-exwife-kai-cole-matters-20170821-gy16lx.html

https://indiegroundfilms.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/wonder-woman-aug7-07-joss-whedon.pdf

Image sources:

Yahoo.com

tenplay.com.au

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy #angel #angel show #joss whedon #feminist #joss whedon's feminism #feminist review #whedon shows #sexism #feminism #problematic shows

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sweetsweetamber · 4 years

Text

23.06.2020

Emailed this to a friend earlier today.

I have been putting off even beginning to allow myself to process my feelings on this since I found out Zac Hanson was a raging racist, transphobic, sexist piece of shit. The problem is he keeps doubling down on his stance and making it so much worse, instead of letting me delete him from my memory and never have to think about him ever again.

This is so different to when multiple women came forward with allegations against Jesse Lacey. Like the second I found that out I never listened to Brand New ever again. Done, deleted. They were one of my favourite bands too, like the same level as Fall Out Boy, MCR, Panic and anything Andrew McMahon does. It hurt, mostly because I used their music to help me get through dealing with shitty men doing similar things to what Jesse Lacey did. But I haven’t really thought about them since, and I only miss their music sometimes. Maybe one day I’ll be able to listen to it without feeling disgusted, but that time is still a long way off.

I am also not the kind of person to idolise celebrities really? Not since I was a kid, anyway. Like all my favourite bands now, I have no idea about their personal lives beyond probably the mid 2000s. I have no clue what their kids, or wives names are, or even how many kids they have. I don’t even know all the names of the people in the band sometimes! I don’t feel connected to them as a person, I feel connected to them through their art, their music, their lyrics. As well as the fandom, the fans, the concerts, and the things I experienced in my life while listening to their music.

Anyway, here’s a brief timeline of what lead up to the main blowout to help put things in context:

May 25th-27th: George Floyd was murdered and Hanson posts normal content on social media with ordinary fan comments

May 28th: Protests against police brutality happen across America, Hanson shares a post about the rocket launch. A handful of fans (mostly Black and POC) express their hurt and frustration with Hanson in the comments

May 31st: Hanson posts advertising a livestream with an organisation that provides mental health support to musicians. Fans comment pleading with them to do the right thing, other fans start absolutely dog-piling those fans and tell them to stop “attacking” Hanson

June 2nd: Black out Tuesday. Taylor posts a black square and a few people comment asking him to actually say Black Lives Matter. The main Hanson account posts nothing.

June 3rd: Isaac posts on his account that “racism is wrong!” to very mixed reactions. Still won’t say Black Lives Matter.

June 4th: Zac posts about recording a podcast. He responds to a few comments about why he won’t say Black Lives Matter, it turns into a shit show and he deletes all the comments.

June 5th: The main Hanson account makes a post advertising their shitty yearly island vacation but it got blown up with backlash in the comments so they deleted the post. Zac makes a really fucking weird instagram text post, that says “Racism is wrong, but simply saying I denounce racism in a post will not save the life of the next young black man who comes upon it, or the next victim of reckless brutality”. The main Hanson account posts a photo with the one black hand in it they could find and still refuse to say Black Lives Matter.

This is where I jumped in and commented “Open your purse” and got completely torn apart by racist fans. I spent hours fighting back and supporting another indigenous Hanson fan who was also getting hurled tons of abuse in the comments. It was genuinely hard to try to calmly engage with these people who were spewing paragraphs about how Hanson don’t owe us anything and to “stop forcing your beliefs on them”. Whew. I think I blocked like 60 accounts, and had to change all my instagram settings to keep me as protected as possible without having to go private.

I knew Hanson fans were terrible. I found this out while in line for their first concert, when everyone was obnoxious assholes who wanted to brag about how many tens of thousands of dollars they’d spent following the tour (no one in line with me in the mornings were locals or even from New Zealand). The more money you spent, the more of a fan you were in their eyes.

This put me completely off ever going to their yearly fanclub island retreat which had been on my bucket list for at least a decade. The thought of being trapped on an island with Hanson and hundreds of complete assholes put me right off for life.

The funny thing is, I always met the nicest and most amazing fellow Hanson fans in line for other bands concerts? But the second concert I went to really solidified my opinion of Hanson fans being the most entitled assholes ever. I should have known it was only a hop skip and a jump for them to slide over being to racist as hell.

I eventually ended up deleting my original comment because a week later I was still getting angry racists coming at me for a fairly mild but sassy post. Which is hilarious because when Gerard Way made a similar half-assed post on his instagram, nearly every comment was “open your purse” and sarcastic “we stan a king who does nothing!!”. The next day he was like, I fucked up, here are some links and resources, we are redirecting the MCR store page to links to donate etc. There were probably some fans getting angry at the “backlash”, but if there were any I didn’t see it. Just insane to see the difference between two groups of fans for bands that I like(d).

On June 6th, a whole lot of Zac’s personal social media accounts got leaked, including a Pinterest board, youtube account and instagram account. He then he publicly confirmed they were all his because he’s a fucking idiot.

A few days later I got sent a link to the r/PostHanson subreddit, which had screengrabs of all of Zac’s pinterest boards. Seeing all those ridiculous and incredibly offensive “memes” was like a punch in the gut.

I had not kept up with this dude's personal life at all, I have forgotten his wife's name and lost track of how many kids he has after the first one. I just figured he was probably conservative because homeschooled + super religious + getting married quick and churning out babies. I’d never really heard or seen Hanson take a political stance on anything, but I didn’t really follow them too closely.

Apparently it was known to fans that Zac was SUPER INTO GUNS and played airsoft which is basically paintball crossed with modern military reenactment?

His pinterest page was completely full of stuff he’d pinned about guns (so many guns) and second amendment memes, that said things like “an 18 year old is too young to buy a gun, but a 5 year old is old enough to decide its own gender?” and one with a picture of a man and a woman with the caption “I told her guns make me feel uncomfortable, she said we should both see other men” which he added the comment “So true” to. The worst were the ones that were supportive of George Zimmerman.

I felt frightened, disgusted, and upset.

On June 8th the Hanson instagram account finally posted (with comments turned off) saying Black Lives Matter.

Since then, Zac has really just…. doubled down on being a shithead. He’s been posting as normal on his main account, blocking fans and deleting even mildly critical comments, liking the most disgusting comments that racist fans have been posting in support of him - one comment he liked was a fan justifying Zimmerman murdering Trayvon Martin. Also replying to some critical fans, making a ridiculously long comment where he thinks everyone is mad at him for being a second amendment nutter which genuinely made me more upset, angry and scared. He truly is the most dangerous type of white person: uneducated, ignorant, arrogant, and with a massive platform to spread his fucked up views. As someone else summed up so perfectly in a comment on one of his posts:

Too stubborn to look inward and see how their own actions, thoughts and behaviours are problematic. No desire to actually hear out marginalised voices. Instead, they'd rather create their own narrative, they want to play the victim, feign being attacked, deflect from any of the issues brought up, and will do anything BUT hold themselves accountable. Instead, they block black people and other POC (Rule #1 of what NOT to do right now), and will "like" comments of other uneducated ignorant white fans who are blindly loyal to anything he says and also don't care at all about marginalised and underrepresented people. Because it's all about HIM. The Poor, entitled, white man is feeling attacked. Zac, you are less than a man. Your development, somewhere down the line, was truly stunted.You are so brainwashed, so self righteous and so far gone, I don't know if you are even salvageable at this point. You would rather be in your bubble, clutching your guns and "liking" comments on your page that are defending the murder of black children than taking the bandwidth, introspection and WORK is takes to actually evolve and be a good person. As a black woman, at least I know now not to waste another dime of my money on you. Now go do what you do best and block another black voice, or write yet another tone deaf and ignorant response to make POC feel crazy (ie: "I'm sorry you are feeling hurt", "I love you", etc.) SAVE IT. That's more deflection bc YOU as the white man are CAUSING the hurt. If you want to love black people, start with explaining to all of your black fans why you believe a young, innocent black child named Trayvon Martin deserved to die because he attacked George Zimmerman. You were man enough to post it. Be man enough to defend it and stand BY your actions.

So I’m not entirely sure where that leaves me or where to go from here. I feel completely blindsided by the boy I picked as my favorite member when I was 12 grew up to be an abhorrent racist fuckhead. I saw in the subreddit support group someone said it feels like someone died and we are all in mourning, which sounds strange but it really does. The Zac Hanson I thought I knew is dead. He never really existed in the first place, or maybe he did for a short while before all the hate wormed its way into his heart.

I also believe that the type of music you choose says a lot about you as a person, and so much of my identity in my preteen and early teen years are wrapped up in Hanson. Both them as individuals as much as the music - I think that's why I can’t separate them because there has never been any separation between the two for me. I first heard Hanson on MTV with their music video for Mmmbop and decided I was in love with Zac before the song was over. I don’t think I can ever stomach listening to that song ever again.

Everyone makes mistakes, has racism to unlearn etc, but Zac hasn’t even bothered to lie and give us the PR answer of “I’m listening and learning etc”, even if he isn’t. He doesn’t even want to seem like he’s saving face because he truly thinks nothing he said or did was wrong, and that is the most horrifying thing of all.

I don’t know how to move past this. It's very easy to think, “people are flawed so you shouldn’t idolise them” but I can’t just snap my fingers and remove this weird 23 year old bond I have that is a mix of intense love and nostalgia? Like there was genuinely a point at age 13 where I actually truly believed: if he could just come to NZ and lock eyes with me at a concert we would fall in love and get married. Which sounds wild but it's how all 3 of them met their wives so it actually was a pretty solid plan.

I immediately took down my signed photo of the band that I had on the wall though because seeing it didn’t remind me of the happy memory of seeing them in concert for the very first time, it just reminded me that Zac is an awful person and his brothers are probably the same and just better at keeping their views private.

I always wanted to get my Hanson tattoo covered and redone but now I think I’m just going to get it covered. A lot of fans are selling or throwing out merch, but I don't want to do that so I've just packed the few things I have away so I don't have to see them for now.

Thinking about the time I met Zac makes me feel sick. It used to genuinely be the best day of my life that I could think about if I was having a shitty day and think “Hey, remember Zac Hanson hugged you”. I’m just so angry that he has tainted so many amazing and happy memories with the hateful rhetoric he is spewing now. I know over time it will hurt less but everything just hurts a lot right now.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk lmao.

#personal essay

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