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queers-gambit · 7 months

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The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

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theepixeltruth · 1 year

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The Flamingo Nursery

The Flamingo Nursery 🦩

I'm so excited to share the first nursery that I made for The Sims 4 Growing Together. I tried not to use custom content buttttt that's really hard to do when you're addicted to cc like I am. I've linked all the incredible creators below in case you want any of the things pictured. But what do you think? Can you tell what my sim is having?

This nursery is for my sim Noemi, a wealthy lawyer who is happily married. She's finally having her first child after never really being sure if motherhood was for her. Noemi is materialistic and she's always been known as the "bougie auntie" to her many nieces and nephews. But now that it's her turn to have a baby, she's absolutely prepared to spoil her little girl rotten.

Flamingo Frame - Tiny Twavellers Ribbon Frame by House of Harlix

Flamingo Wallpaper - Felixandre COLONIAL Crane Wall by Felixandre (wallpaper can be found in set 1 of the COLONIAL set)

Candle - BAFROOM Siptique Candle by House of Harlix

Pink Paneled Wallpaper - Brownstone Collection Part 3 by Harrie

Water Bottle - FIJI Water Bottle (Plant Mom Mini CC Pack) by Simkoos

Neutral Playmat by Lovely Builds

Animal Portrait - SMOL Stuff Pack by Charly Pancakes

Glass Cotton Pads & Cotton Swab Jars - Clutter by RVSN (Ravasheen)

Hydrangeas in Bottle - PTS Cottage Garden

Giraffee Growth Chart - Peacemaker's Roarsome Kids

Floral/Colorful Rug - Cozy Casita by The Clutter Cat

Electrical Outlet Switches - Home Improvement Pack by SIXAM

All other items not linked are from The Sims 4 Growing Together Pack!

If I missed any other CC or linking a creator, it was not intentional! Thank you to all the amazing Sims 4 Custom Content Creators that continue to take loads of space up on my computer and in my pixelated homes.

@felixandresims @harrie-cc @imfromsixam @peacemaker-ic @mlyssimblr @ravasheencc @charlypancakes @simkoos @lovelybuilds

The Clutter Cat

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sparda-ly · 1 year

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Hi hi welcome to tumblr!

I saw you were taking request and I was wondering if I could request head canons of Phantom blood Pre vampire Dio x wife reader. Basically just stuff like how he'd be as a husband and how he would treat his wife 🥰

phantom blood dio brando x wife reader

note: hello mrs brando! of course. anything for you, i'm a huge simp for dio!!!!!

warnings: none

dio brando would be a ... complicated husband, however he would try his best

the moment he saw you, he fell in love and the feeling never left, not even after marriage, possibly made it even stronger

meeting you probably made him open his eyes about a lot of things, he hasn't been concerned about before

you showed him how to love, and soon that love made him realise that his goal didn't really matter, as long as he had you by his side

knowing that whenever he returns home after a long day at work, he finds his lovely wife waiting for him patiently is most likely only motivation to keep going

he probably would have loved to start a family, and would be the best dad possible

dio brando is super protective over his wife

you say you need to go shopping to cook dinner for tommorow and he straight away complains

"must you go darling, there's always creeps around that place"

"do not fret honey, i'll go after work. stay home and relax a little bit. i'll take care of it"

in public, his hands never leave your body, of course he's possesive, how could he not be?

he has such an amazing wife and everyone should know that

dio works hard, and i mean really hard

he stays very late at work and leaves his house very early

as a lawyer, his way of thinking also progressively changes

you may find it difficult to sometimes talk to him, since he behaves like he's still at work, deciding who's guilty and who's not

although his work is tough, he always makes it up to you

whever it's a fancy date, romantic walk or short holiday in rome

he never fails to suprise you

you always get at least two kisses and two i love you's a day, one when he wakes up and one when he goes to sleep

when he finds you sleeping, he always checks if you're warm and okay

have i mentioned he loves showing you off?

he has a photo of you in a frame on his desk at the office he works at

so whenever he has a visitor or even a simple coworker over, he grabs the photo and starts proudly talking about you

everyone's already used to it by now

also showing you off to mr. joestar, stating your his wife with the boggest grin on his face

you also get along with his family really well, being best friends with both jojo and erina

they still wonder how dio managed to get with someone so perfect

very confused when one second he's a snarky little bitch and the next is talking with you so calmly, and covering you in kisses

dio is also very supportive, if you want to study or work even though, he won't hesitate to help you apply

he will absolutely spoil you rotten.

flowers? check

jewelry? check

useless item that you mentioned you want only once? check

stuffed animal you found cute? check

dress that costs a fortune? check

no matter the price, dio will get you anything you want.

despite his sometimes rude actions and words , dio loves you very much, and keeps you as close to him as possible <3

#dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jojo x reader #jojo x y/n #jojo x you #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojos bizarre adventure #dio x y/n #dio x you #dio brando #.diobrando #jjba dio x reader #jojo dio x reader #jjba dio #jojo dio

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 1 year

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Matt Murdock X Reader: Safe and Sound

Summary: Matt loses his hearing and you come to the rescue.

Warning: None(i think) this is just fluff

Matt Murdock did not easily get despaired. Being a lawyer meant he needed to keep his mind in a state of constant stability in order to do his job the best he could. His night job also required a steady mind because any slip up could cause the loss of a life. Despite all of this Matt couldn't manage to calm himself when his hearing stopped working. He had already lost his sight years ago which meant the only thing he could rely on to survive was the rest of his senses, his hearing being one of the most important ones. So it's safe to say that when he stopped being able to hear the noise of Hellfire's kitchen and the clinking of glass crashing onto the floor he panicked. Out of a sudden Matt's world had gone completely dark. The silence suffocated him and no matter how loud he screamed he couldn't seem to make it stop.

He was all alone.

Alone and vulnerable.

You strolled down the streets a shopping bag in one hand and the keys to Matt's apartment grasped in the other. You walked up the stairs calmly, stopping to give Matt's neighbours a cheery good morning as you went. Completely unaware of what was happening to your favorite brunette. You’d made it to Matt's apartment without any issues, your hands fiddled with the keys as you tried to find the correct one to open the door. Then you heard the most blood curdling scream coming from inside the apartment. Your head snapped up at the sound, the hand holding the grocery bag instinctively releasing the item as you desperately tried to pry the door open. You knew about Matt's double life so you shouldn’t be worried about a scream. What made the hairs on your arms stand up was the fact that Matt was the one screaming.

Desperately screaming.

And if there was one thing you knew Matt Murdock never was was desperate.

You managed to get the door open, your shoes clanged loudly against the wood flooring as you raced into the living room. Your eyes searched the room quickly, trying to find some intruder or any sense of a break in but everything seemed to be in the right place, except for the pieces of glass that littered the floor near the kitchen. You moved towards the broken cup, kneeling down to get a better look at the contents. It is possible Matt had been poisoned? You were just about to reach out to grab a piece off the floor when another scream broke out through the silent room. Your eyes snapped to the place where the noise had come from, your gaze falling on Matt's frame. You rushed over to him, your hands reaching out to touch his body.

“Matt, what's wrong? Why are you-”

The moment your hand touched his arm Matt snapped into action, his hand wrapped around your throat with a strength you often forgot he had. Your own hands made their way to Matt's forearm trying with all your might to stop him from choking you.

“Matt…”

Your voice barely came out, not that it mattered anyway Matt couldnt hear you. You looked around, searching for something to get him to realize that he wasn't in danger. Your eyes fell onto Matt's other hand, the one that had remained at his side. You used your little amount of strength, the lack of air was making you lightheaded, to grab his other arm and drag his hand towards your face. For some reason Matt didn't resist, he let you guide his hand to your cheek. The moment his hand made contact with your features his eyes lit up in recognition. He immediately let go of your throat causing you to gasp for air. Your hands went to the floor, trying to steady yourself as you breathed in some much needed oxygen. Matt's hands went to try and grab onto you but you flinched away, the survival instinct still kicked into your system. And he felt it. Matt felt the way your muscles contracted away from him. He couldn't see or hear you but an image of your face formed inside his brain, your eyes wide with fear as you looked at him. Like he was some sort of rabid animal. In a way he believed he was.

You stared at the floor trying to get your bearings together. Matt called out your name, making you look at him. Your eyes found his brown ones, watching as his eyebrows furrowed with worry. He called out your name again a little louder this time and you realized that he couldn't hear anything at all. You crawled towards him. Matt felt the floorboards creak underneath him as you moved. Your hand went to his face but this time instead of snapping at you Matt closed his eyes, nuzzling into your palm. You felt Matt's tears on your palm as you caressed him.

“I’m sorry.”

He sounded so broken.

You moved your body in between his legs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into your embrace. Matt nuzzled into your neck, the smell of your perfume invading his nose and making him feel safe. Your body was warm around him, a big contrast to the coolness of the wall behind him. He couldn’t hear but he wasn't scared anymore because he wasn't alone now. Now he had you and you would never let anything happen to him. Ever. Just like he would never let anyone hurt you.

You managed to guide Matt to the couch so that way he could be comfortable as you tried to figure out what to do about his hearing. You would have to take him to a doctor. That was the only thing you could think of. But how the hell were you supposed to guide him through the streets of new york without either of you getting put into risk. You reached into one of the kitchen drawers searching for the kettle you knew would be there. Tea would help you think and maybe it would calm Matt down enough to get him to sleep. Perhaps once he had gotten the rest he needed his hearing would come back to him.

Matts lay on the couch, his hands pulling at the blanket you’d placed on top of him. He wondered what you were doing. He knew you hadn’t left because he could still smell you. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the scent when you had walked in but then again he was in such a panicked state he hadn’t been paying enough attention to things. A new scent filled his nose. It was a slightly citric smell but not strong enough to be some kind of juice. Matt moved his head in the direction of the smell. Tea. You were making him orange tea. If it had been another time he would have laughed but it seemed silly to laugh given the circumstances.

A low melody entered Matt's ears. At first he thought he had imagined it but then he heard a clink of metal and the sound of shoes on the wood floor. You were humming as you walked around the kitchen and Matt could hear you.

He could hear you.

You were about to take the mugs filled with tea over to the couch when two arms grabbed you and turned you around. You looked up at Matt, your heart beating quickly. When had he gotten up from the couch? You hadn't even heard the floor creak behind you but then again that was kind of Matt's thing. Being quiet was a must when you fought bad guys in the night.

“Matt can you-”

“I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

Matt pulled you into his chest, his body molding itself around your fame. You froze for a moment before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay Matty. You were scared and you reacted. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally.”

Matt let out a small sob as he held you.

“Everything was dark. I couldn't… i didn't know what-”

“Shhh, It's alright you’re okay. I'm here now.”

Your hands wrapped themselves in Matt's hair as the two of you hugged.

“If you hadn’t done something… if i had…i’d never forgive myself.”

“Matthew, stop it. It was a mistake and I'm okay. You would have noticed. I know you would have.”

It was futile to argue with you. Matt knew you would never believe he could harm you. And that's what worried him because when his hands had been around your throat he wasn't thinking of anything else. He wondered if you were right, perhaps he would have noticed in time and stopped. But a small part of him thought that he only would know when it was too late. Tears welled in his eyes for the second time that day. His body slacked in your arms the emotions he’s held in for so long taking a toll on him. You sunk to the floor due to Matt's weight, one of your hands grabbing onto the counter for support. Once you two were sitting on the floor Matt buried his head into your chest, his strong arms gripping onto you for dear life. You felt Matt's tears soak through your shirt, causing some to well up in your own eyes. You hated seeing him this way but you were glad he trusted you enough to show this side of himself. You stayed like this for a while. Matt clinging onto you as he cried, you caressing him as he did so. Then Matt's head snapped up from its position, his face facing yours. One of his hands found their way to your cheek, his fingers tracing your features slowly. His thumb found your lips and he heard your heartbeat fasten slightly at the action. You had closed your eyes the moment he had placed his hand on your face, the thought of looking at him making you nervous. Matt called out your name. It came out as a whisper. So low that maybe if he hadn't been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yes?”

There was silence for a moment as Matt contemplated if this was a good moment. Every thought of doubt left his mind when he remembered the feeling that had invaded his chest when he realized you’d come to help him. The immediate peace that had consumed him when you pulled him into your body. Matt placed his hand underneath your chin, guiding you to look up at him. He could hear your heart berating, he could feel you breathe on his lip and he could smell your perfume, a scent he was sure he would never tire of.

“Matt?”

God he loved the way his name sounded on your lips.

“You alright?”

That's when he kissed you. Your hands tensed before reaching up to hold Matt's cheeks. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you once again. You wondered if this was all just a really realistic dream. It seemed almost impossible that after all these years you were in Matt's kitchen kissing him with everything you had. The years of bottled feelings had come to an end. Your heart felt as light as a feather and even though you didn't know it Matt had never felt happier. Matt placed his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

“I am now.”

You let out a laugh making him smirk.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn't want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me Matt.”

“Yeah but my life isn't exactly safe. The people I love end up getting hurt. I didn't want to put a target on your back.”

“Hey, I think I should be the one who decides whether I want to be a target or not. Plus I'm in this. I have been in it since that day I stitched you up. So if anyone put a target on my back it was me. Not you.”

“You’re one tough cookie.”

“Yeah I know. It’s why you love me.”

Your eyes widened at your words realizing what you had said. You worried you had assumed too much, after all Matt had never officially said he loved you.

“You bet it is.”

With that Matt pulled you into another kiss. You melted into his body, feeling like the happiest person alive. The floor was cold and the position was starting to hurt Matt's back so you both got up. You went to look at the tea you had placed on the counter.

“Teas gone cold.”

“Leave it.”

You listened to Matt, letting him guide you to the couch. You watched as he climbed onto the sofa before opening his arms to you. You understood the message climbing onto the couch and laying on his chest. Matt's hands went to your hair, massaging your scalp tenderly. You let out a hum of approval as you snuggled more into his frame.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For sticking around, even though it’s dangerous.”

“Well, we do all kinds of crazy things for people we love.”

Matt smiled at your words. Love had always been something he had wanted. At the same time he always feared for those he loved. However right now he couldn’t care less. You loved him, he loved you and neither of you would let anyone get in the way of that. Matt listened to the sound of your breathing as you began to fall asleep. For the first time in a long time the world around him seemed to go quiet. He drifted into sleep, your warmth luring him into peaceful slumber. For once Matt wasn’t plagued with nightmares instead his dreams were filled with images of you. He was safe. Completely safe because he had you and nothing was going to change that. Not if he had anything to say about it.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #matt #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #daredevil x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock fanfic #marvel fanfiction #charlie cox #mcu daredevil #charlie cox daredevil #charlie cox x reader

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mostlymaudlin · 1 year

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An Attempted Explanation of Andrew’s “Manic Pills”

One of the things that bothers me about AFTG is Andrew’s medicine. The way most of the characters talk about court-mandated psychiatry and sobriety and mania is a questionable and often harmful representation of what it’s like to experience mania/hypomania — which like, it’s fiction, that’s fine, but it’s also something that I take a lil personally. So I’ve decided to try to legitimize the whole thing for myself, just because I can!

Necessary to note: I’m not a medical professional, a lawyer, etc. I’m usually a pretty good fact-checker, but I could definitely be wrong abt stuff, and I’d love for you to tell me if I am. I ran a lot of this by the lovely @the-greater-grief, who does have a medical background and also inspired me with this analysis they did on Andrew’s mental health. They were really helpful in explaining a lot of the more technical drug information, so they’re largely responsible for most of the theory that makes sense lol. But, they are also not responsible for me saying things that are wrong, lol! Alsooooo, I’ve been in the fandom for less than a year so it’s possible I’m saying stuff people have said before. Idc. I’m having fun reinventing the wheel lmfao. Okay, onwards!

The post has two parts:

Lovingly dismantling a lot of the bullshit Neil tells us in the books

Setting up a more realistic version of Andrew’s mental health situation

Apologies in advance, this got long-winded. Let’s do this!

Dismissing Neil’s framing

AFTG is told from Neil’s perspective, so we as readers are limited to the things he knows and understands. We know that Neil is often unreliable, and as perceptive as he can be, he makes a lot of questionable assumptions that he internalizes as fact.

This is what he tells us, rather crudely:

Andrew tried to kill some guys, because he might be a psychopath/sociopath.

Rather than being sent to prison, he was court-mandated to take drugs that make him “manic”/less likely to kill other people.

The manic pills make him crazy and also make him sick, to the point where the characters refer to him as “sober” when he is unmedicated.

The withdrawal is severe enough that his psych wants him to be hospitalized to come off them.

We learn all this about Andrew’s treatment from three sources: Information Neil read before he even joined the Foxes, Nicky’s exposition dumps, and Andrew’s actual behavior. The bullshit mostly comes from the first two items on this list, because Andrew never cares to explain much of his situation to Neil. And we can actually brush all of it off pretty easily.

Neil builds most of his perception of Andrew’s treatment on top of information from articles he read about Kevin’s transfer to Palmetto State. These articles were unkind — the Exy world was upset that Kevin was leaving the Ravens, and Andrew was painted in a cruel and probably inaccurate way. Neil mentions an article headlined “The Prince & the Pauper”... I personally would not take anything from that article seriously.

Some of this bullshit is corroborated by Nicky, a 20-something year old jock majoring in marketing. When Andrew was sentenced, we can guess that Nicky (still basically a teenager himself) was very scared that his cousin, who he is responsible for, was going to get sent to prison. Based on the way he talks about mental health in general, I wouldn’t consider him to be an expert on the nitty-gritty of psychiatry. He just saw the outcome of the trial, which was not prison, yay! and instead involved some kind of pills that made Andrew way more social. Also, as much as I think Nicky tries, he doesn’t really get Andrew — he thought Andrew was straight, and then he thought he was hate-fucking Neil. He’s not a reliable source when it comes to judging how Andrew’s brain works/how he is affected by his treatment.

This leaves Andrew’s behavior, because he never talks about his mental health except to say that he’s “crazy” and that he is not a sociopath. When he’s on the medicine, his behavior includes an elevated mood, a short attention span, and trouble curbing his impulses. When he doesn’t take his medicine on time, he experiences withdrawal (nausea, fatigue, etc), and feeling ill seems to curb some of his mood elevation enough to let him think with more clarity. When he’s off it, he is able to shut down his emotional reactions to things, though he still exhibits flashes of the rage, depression, and zingy one-liners from his behavior in the first two books.

Also, the only people who actually seem to understand Andrew’s mental health treatment are Andrew himself, Bee, and probably Wymack. Aaron might also have a better handle on it all because he’s pre-med, and also he understands Andrew enough to clock that he is gaga for Neil lol.

Okay. Bullshit? Gone.

A proposed alternate story

Once upon a time, some homophobes started beating up Andrew’s cousin and the only legal guardian that didn’t treat him like utter shit, so he went feral on them.

He gets arrested, and somewhere along the line the courts determine that his violence stems from mental illness. Rather than being sentenced to prison, he gets some kind of probation that mandates he engage in mental health treatment. The psychiatrist he sees at the time determines that he has depression — which, like, they’ve definitely seen his self-harm scars, so this is a fair assumption — and he is prescribed an antidepressant.

Now’s a good time to mention that no one would ever intentionally prescribe something to induce mania in a patient. Mania is a supremely dangerous state. People get hospitalized to get out of a manic episode. Whenever I even inch toward it, my therapist and psych are like, “CALL ME!!!!” It also would do nothing to curb violence — the opposite, actually, if the manic person often has a hard time holding themselves back from hurting themselves and others. If you look at Andrew’s behavior in the first two books, I don’t think it would even qualify as full-blown mania. He sleeps, he fulfills his responsibilities, he doesn’t seem to have any delusions of grandeur. His symptoms align better with hypomania, which is less severe and accounts for the things we noted before (mood elevation, short attention span, irritability, impulsiveness). I also think a lot of the stuff Andrew does that is attributed to his medicine is probably just Andrew being Andrew — because as Aaron once said, “it wasn’t the drugs that made him crazy.” (I wrote more about this once in an Andrew character study I did.)

So, the antidepressants would’ve been prescribed to treat the depression, which hypothetically could’ve made Andrew so hopeless and full of rage that he was constantly on the verge of flipping his shit on people. There are plenty of antidepressants that will make you sick/be less effective if you fuck with your dosing schedule, and all the alcohol he drinks probably doesn’t help either. Still, the medicine would just treat depression. HOWEVER! If Andrew actually has bipolar disorder (:D!!!), then some antidepressants do have a risk of inducing mania/hypomania!

It should’ve been obvious that Andrew’s antidepressant was not working as intended. But I doubt Nicky, Andrew, and Aaron had great health insurance before they enrolled at Palmetto, so Andrew’s court-mandated mental health provider was probably like, “cool, not trying to kill people anymore, we’re good.” A good provider like Bee would clock that Andrew had been misdiagnosed, and she’d want to adjust his medicine. But this leads to the final part of the theory — actually suggested by the brilliant Grimm — which also could explain how Andrew came to trust Bee.

If Bee diagnosed Andrew with bipolar, she would want to switch him over to lithium, which is the most common bipolar medicine. I’ve never actually been on lithium, and while I’ve heard it can be really effective, it definitely has a bad reputation — some people say it makes them feel like a “zombie.” Fatigue/dizziness/drowsiness are known potential side effects, especially when you’re adjusting to changed doses — and anyone who’s ever been on a psych med knows that it takes a while to get the dose right. I’m guessing (justified) control freak Andrew Minyard would not be down to risk feeling like a zombie.

(Sidenote: people with bipolar II also get put on lamotrigine, which specifically manages low moods, but from what I can tell it wouldn’t have been common in the mid-2000s. it was only approved for bipolar treatment in 2003.)

Maybe Bee made him a deal: He can stay on the antidepressant, which is not working but is also not the most dangerous thing, as long as he fully commits to their talk therapy sessions so that he can learn how to cope with his symptoms. This is similar to the deal Wymack struck with Andrew. He tends to trust the small handful of people who have given him agency.

Alright, that’s the theory! Andrew has bipolar disorder. He’s not on the right meds. The courts are not doing silly illegal things (well, not in this case anyway), and the jocks of PSU are the real stereotypes here.

Because at the end of the day, this is a tale as old as time: People with mental illness are easily made out to be the villain.

#aftg #my writing

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ejzah · 10 months

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In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 21

***

They kissed for several minutes, unhurried and freed by their mutual revelations. Deeks could have easily spent all night with one hand along Kensi’s back, the other woven through her hair, lips playing softly against each other.

Unfortunately, the scent of perfectly spiced roast wafted towards from inside. Deeks eased away from Kensi reluctantly, kissing the corner of her lips a final time before he settled both hands on her lower back.

“I hate to say this, but we should probably stop unless we want dinner to be cold,” he said regretfully.

“Mm, I think cold beef tips sounds like a delicacy,” Kensi teased, eyes playful as she toyed with his collar. “But I wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste. Besides, we have all night, right?”

Running her nose along his jaw, the sensation enough to make him shiver, Kensi stepped out of his arms, spinning around once. Deeks’ eyes fell to her legs as her skirt swirled around, revealing tantalizing hints of golden skin. She sashayed to the patio table, leaving a stunned Deeks in her wake.

“You’re going to be the death of me!” he called after her. Kensi’s laughter drifted back to him as he wandered back to the house.

He filled two plates with beef tips, potatoes and gravy, carrots, and sautéed asparagus, adding each item with care. The whole time, his mind kept returning to the compelling thought of Kensi’s legs, the perfect curves of her shoulders framed by thin strips of red, the way he ached every time they kissed.

It felt like his awareness of Kensi had suddenly increased tenfold in the last day. Maybe it had something to do with basically admitting their importance to each other. Or the knowledge that for tonight, he didn’t have Caleb to distract him, for better or worse.

Putting a damper on his wandering thoughts, he grabbed both plates, bringing them out to the patio. He placed on in front of Kensi and the other on the setting across from her, then uncorked a nice Cabernet, and poured two glasses with a flourish.

“Impressive. Did you learn all this from your mom too?” Kensi asked, waiting for Deeks to it down before she took her first bite. “Oh my god!”

He was momentarily struck silent when she tossed her head back, eyes closed, the long line of her neck so inviting. “Uh, some of it. I also worked in a pretty high end restaurant senior year of high school through undergrad where I picked up a lot of tips.” Deeks winked, and added, “But don’t tell my mom that. As far as she’s concerned, she taught me everything I know.”

“I won’t say a word,” she promised. “So, I know you’ve worked for your mom, at a restaurant, and bartending before you became a lawyer, what else have you done?”

“Oh, I’m not sure I want to go there,” Deeks sighed, already embarrassed as he thought about his least favorite, but most lucrative college job.

“It can’t be that bad. I took a low level modeling job freshman year. It sucked.” Spearing another piece of meat, Kensi wrinkled her nose. He was dying to ask for more details, but given his own reticence, that hardly seemed fair.

When Deeks still hesitated, running his hands along his thighs, Kensi leaned forward, clasping his forearm.

“Hey, whatever it is, I promise not to judge. And, I’ll even tell you something embarrassing about myself.”

Deeks was touched by her offer, and after another moment of deliberating, exhaled heavily. “Ok,” he relented. “When I was in law school, I was an…exotic dancer for a while to make ends meet.”

Kensi’s eyebrows incredibly high, but otherwise, she gave no indication Deeks had said anything unusual.

“Huh, and here I thought you were going to say you made adult movies or were a male escort or something,” she said bluntly after a second, and Deeks snorted the sip of wine he’d just taken.

“Kensi!”

“What? That would be really surprising. No judgment though, if that’s what you needed to do to get by,” she continued, and Deeks was grateful for her purposely flippant response.

Monica had found his prior procession hilarious when he first told her, mocking him, and even going on to bring it up to her friends. She’d never seemed to understand his shame or embarrassment around the topic.

He slid his hand into Kensi’s, trying to communicate the strength of his gratitude. At first she seemed startled by the intensity of his stare. Then after a few moments, she relaxed into a smile and squeezed back.

“Ok, so what’s your big, dark secret?” he asked, and Kensi groaned.

“Damn, I hoped you would forget that part. Fine.” She took a healthy sip of wine, apparently for courage. “My sophomore year of college, one of my college roommates moved out of our apartment, in the middle of the night, while I was out cramming for finals,” she told him with the air that she was revealing something truly horrid.

“That’s rude. Why?”

“Ok, you are absolutely not allowed to laugh at this,” she warned him severely, and that alone had him fighting back a smile. She inhaled deeply and held it for a count of five. “She left a note that said I was too messy and she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Deeks snorted despite himself, and shook his head.

Before he could say anything, she added, “In my defense, I was super busy that year and I’ve gotten way better since then.”

He nodded with mock understanding. “I’m sure. If it makes you feel any better, one of my college buddies was arrested for smoking pot.”

“Oh my god! What happened?”

“Well, I already knew I wanted to go to law school, so I, a Junior with shoulder length hair and zero idea what I was doing, tried to negotiate his release.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t work,” Kensi surmised.

“Nope,” he said, pursing his lips. “Not even a little bit.“ He smiled reminiscently. “Shortly after that, Ray decided that college wasn’t really for him and dropped out.”

“Ah, I should have known it was the infamous “Ray” at center of this story.”

“Yeah, Ray always had a knack for getting both of us in trouble. Now he’s a mechanic and has a nice little family. So he turned ok in the end.”

“I’m glad,” Kensi said, and from her voice, he gathered she happy for his sake more so than Ray’s.

With a contented sigh, she pushed her plate away, leaning back in her seat, and stretching her arms above her head, flashing him a delightful peek at the top of her breasts.

Kensi caught him staring before he could look away, a knowing smirk raising the corners of her lips. Instead of stopping, she picked up her glass of wine, arching her back, deliberately accentuating her curves. Still holding his gaze, she lifted one sandal covered foot to the edge of Deeks’ chair, as she took a slow, seductive sip of wine. His shirt felt too warm and tight.

He swallowed thickly as her dress fell back to reveal her entire thigh. He suddenly had the desire to run his lips along the warm brown skin. Or sweep the dishes off the table and lay her down across its surface.

He lifted his gaze to Kensi’s, tilting his head in an unspoken question. She stared right back, a challenge in her eyes.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Kensi? Cause I’m not sure I’m getting the message,” he teased, and Kensi made an exasperated sound.

Sliding out of her chair, she walked the few feet to him, sliding one leg along the side of his. Deeks rose up to meet her as she cupped the back of his head, angling his mouth to kiss him.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #teacher Kensi #lawyer Deeks #self indulgent writer #once again 90% of this chapter is flirting #in miss blye’s class #part 21 #au #this will end eventually #ejzah fanfiction

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otakusparkle · 1 year

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Identity V New Announcement

- Old items will be reprinted during 5th anniversary

- New emote for all survivors (interaction emote) "GIVE ME FIVE"

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You can bought Soul Emissary furniture or Pet in in-game store and you will receive Frame + Dynamic Potrait of Soul Emissary

Identity V "Truth & Inference" Offline Package for 5th Anniversary

Embalmer (Aesop Carl) will have the opportunity to be in offline package this year

ONCE (Retrospective) Series

Mad Eyes (Burke Lapadura)

During the release, all ONCE (Retrospective) costumes will be reprinted in shop for limited time

Ivory Tower Series

Prisoner (Luca Balsa)

During the release, all Ivory Tower costumes will be reprinted in shop for limited time

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Limited time Shop

S-Tier costumes and Accessories

Little Girl (Memory)

Continuation of Main story : "Ashes of memory"

New Survivor :

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During the event (Next Season, Season 26, essence 1), you will get 20 free Ashes of memory essences, as well as 10 memory spheres

For more bonuses, please claim using this code

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New Promotional Video for Ashes of memory, Alice Deross

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lizbethborden · 6 months

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Here is, at last, an itemized list of my various problems and thoughts with The Fall of the House of Usher. Before you block, unfollow, report, and make a callout post, please be aware that I have an extensive blackmail list. Grazie

Flanagan is flanagan and incapable of not being moralizing and didactic. I think he takes one of Stephen King's problems to the nth degree which is a kind of... sentimentalism and a belief that Good Can Come From Horror. The need for horror to be meaningful and redemptive and in some capacity... joyous? Or at least morally Useful in the fashion of Victorian lit? doesn't make amazing art

He needs to let go of constantly casting his wife and their friends. Every time he brings in someone who's not in the "inner circle" they contribute more strongly and effectively than everyone else.

Case in point, Mary McDonnell. I know I came into the show liking her due to BSG Brainrot and Laura Roslin Pussy Disease, but frankly she can be inconsistent especially with bad directing; whereas here I think she actually provides a very strong foundation because, even though she's working with substandard material, she doesn't have to stretch herself very far to play Steely, Soft-Spoken Matriarch so she does ok--and "ok" is better than a lot of the rest of the cast. Same thing with Mark Hamill: he was such a bright point in this show and it was a great use of his skills in transforming physically as well as vocally. Carl Lumbly similarly did his absolute best with shite material and his role as being functionally a prop/occasional commentator in the frame narration.

The same thing happened when he brought in T'Nia Miller in Bly Manor and she blew the roof off that show. But now she's folded into the inner circle and she does amazing with what she's got, but pLEASE free her.

STOP. CASTING. KATE SIEGEL. PLEASE!!!!! And STOP casting that man playing Young Roderick, he gave NOTHING to the role, he contributed NOTHING. Mr. Gerald's Game literally carried the Roderick characterization all on his own. Can we say if he did well? Perhaps he didn't. But he was putting in the work.

There is an obsessive need to do too much, all at once, that really kills whatever minor crumbs of decent writing or atmosphere they manage to sprinkle around. Why do we need so many references to Poe that have so little to do with the original stories? Wouldn't it be more effective to pick 2-3 and do them right in a more tightly written story than to swing the bat at 8-10 works and maybe only hit 1 or 2 out of the park?

😭 listen, I'm not a genius nor can I or would I ever claim to understand the Black experience. But I certainly doubt a gay Black man in a government job in the 1970s would namedrop his male partner to a complete, white, heterosexual stranger, not even as a manipulative technique to create false intimacy or camaraderie. (Similar thing happened in Bly Manor where a Black woman who wanted to be a high-powered lawyer(?) took a job as a lawyer(?)'s NANNY to try to get a career opportunity with him? Um?) (Question marks after each instance of lawyer because I remember VERY little about the show honestly.)

The treatment of bisexuality as this decadent bourgeois predatory sexuality is actually INSANE in Usher. Please believe me when I say I am pro "bad rep," but Flanagan does not have a good history of thoughtful treatment of sexual minorities, especially female ones (cf. treatment of Trish [also an example of exoticising and marginalizing racism] and Theo [and to some extent Nell] in Hill House, the Jamie/Dani storyline in Bly Manor). And the way sex overall is portrayed and handled is soooo Everyone Is Beautiful And No One Is Horny.

There is this problem with all of Flanagan's adaptations, and Bryan Fuller does the same thing (I've seen it in both Hannibal and American Gods), where they just wholesale poach lines from the author's narration or other works and give it to their characters as dialogue. In this one they even have the grotesque indecency to have Roderick be the "author" of multiple of Poe's poems. HOW? WHY? HOW? WHY? Additionally, when they do this with the narration, it doesn't make sense as dialogue. Human beings don't talk like that except in very rare instances or if they're very pretentious. It just doesn't make sense. It's a failure of writing and imagination on the adaptor's part because they're not confident in their ability to visually create the atmosphere that the written line conjured and it's actually pathetic.

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xlntwtch2 · 4 months

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from 1/2/24 ...Rolling Stone article...

"Attempts to drag Nancy Pelosi into court to berate her on the stand and, hopefully, on live TV. Claims that the Jan. 6 Capitol attack was an FBI frame job, with an assist from Antifa. Conspiracy theories that the 2020 election was indeed “stolen,” supposedly backed up by still-classified documents. Unhinged assertions that President Joe Biden is now secretly, personally orchestrating an unprecedented act of political persecution. Calls to publicly unmask the federal officials and lawyers investigating the former (and perhaps future) president of the United States. Efforts to blame any illegality on some of the ex-president’s closest confidants and former legal allies. Insinuations of election meddling by the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah.

These are just some of the items that former President Donald Trump and his lawyers have been discussing and planning to deploy when he goes on trial for his efforts to steal the 2020 election. The brewing defense strategy is outlandish and feral, even by Trumpland standards, to the point that it’s baffling some of the ex-president’s former lawyers and senior administration officials...."

read it all

#january 2 2024 article in the rolling stone magazine re trump #defense strategies for january 6 2020 election interference to be 'outlandish and feral' ...

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writingcold · 1 year

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Neapolitan: A Continuance

A/N: Wow - I’m being faithful about keeping it to Wednesdays! This is kind of a short bridge to the rest of the story. There’s still a lot of information in this piece, and it needed to be a part on its own. I need to say here, I have no fucking clue when it comes to lawyers and law except for the shred of research into Wisconsin state law when it comes to domestic abuse, protocols and how cases are actually handled. In my research, there are some glaring issues that are just jaw dropping. I can only imagine what it would be like to navigate through this system. Please forgive my glossed over view found within this part.

Here are the links to the master lists of Neapolitan and Neapolitan: A Continuance

I also need to say, I do not know the members of GVF or their families. Jake is my muse and is haunting my brain in so many different ways it’s scary. This is a total work of my own fiction.

Word Count: Approx. 4200 words

Content Warnings: Angst, talk of domestic, physical abuse, verbal arguing, sex - not the typical Violet/Jake sex though.

Part 7

The morning arrived in a whisper of snowflakes and a breeze that shook just the very tops of the trees. Violet stood at the front window inhaling the steam of her coffee as Jake rummaged around the kitchen and writing down items on a scrap of paper. Why he didn’t want to use a notes app was beyond her, but it worked for him so why argue. The ache of the previous night had not waned as she had hoped that it would, and now the added fuel of this lawyer’s arrival left her feeling stirred and frayed.

She sipped at the heat and felt it fill her brain with a moment’s relief. Jake’s arms wrapped around her middle and shoulders, tugging her against him. For a moment, she felt like she was in one of those stupid romance movies where the couple stand longingly staring off into whatever distance, full of hope and love and isn’t the world just fucking wonderful. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in before planting a kiss beneath her ear.

“You ready to go?” she asked as he moved away.

He nodded. “If you need anything, just text.”

A hollowness invaded as she watched him reach for his keys and head for the door. Somehow, she wanted him close but in the next county over for the spectacle to come. There was nothing that she did not want to share with him, and yet, what she was going to have to share with a stranger… She did not want to inflict the damage onto him in any way. Did not need him to see the events that correlated to the scars he could read on her skin.

Violet continued to sip her coffee, watching as he drove down the driveway and out of sight. The snow on the trees looked more like frosting on those plastic trees that would be on cakes this time of year. Some branches looked so heavy they would snap at any moment, others allowed the weight to bend their tender trunks like they were old humans, hunched over their tables in an arc. The temperature barely tickled ten above zero. She wondered if he took his heavy coat and not just the lighter one that was more comfortable in the car.

To keep her mind clear, she tucked into her laptop to look into the pending schedule and training lessons she was going to present. Within twenty minutes, Violet heard a car moving up the driveway. Blowing out a breath, she caught sight of the small SUV park. The woman behind the wheel appeared to be looking out beyond the house into the woods. When she stepped from the vehicle, Violet appreciated the tailored winter coat on the woman’s tall frame. She reached for her wrap before sliding into her boots to greet the woman on the deck.

“Ms. Williams?” she called as the woman closed the hatch of the car.

“This is really beautiful out here,” she said, looking once more out across the field to the line of dense woods. “You must be Violet. Please, call me Mae.”

“It’s home,” Violet returned as she led the way inside.

After offering the pleasantries, she watched tea brew as Mae set herself up on the dining room table. Violet retrieved a plate of sugar cookies her mother had sent over to set out along with two cups of spiced green tea. Mae was the consummate professional with manicured hands, perfectly tailored jacket and suit pants, and a fresh pixie cut that made her sharp eyes look exceptionally formidable. Violet felt intimidated just trying to sit down across from the woman until a warm smile broke upon her thin, glossed lips.

“I must admit that I was surprised to have the legal team of an entertainment enterprise reach out to me,” she said with a nod. “Although Harsteins and Finth contacted me, I want to assure you, Violet, that I am under your employ and have no ties with the offices that represent Mr. Kiszka. The only overlap would be in the instances where your privacy is concerned that may infringe on that of the band. I would then have to be in collaboration with the group of H & F.”

Violet took a sip of her tea, her eyes trained on Jake’s heavy coat that was draped over the end of the couch. Her brain furrowed its brows in a typical dumb guy move reaction. Worse yet, she was sure that his hat and gloves were also waiting right next to the jacket. She found that her worry was her new method of distraction. Kirby would praise her for this identification, but would probably give her the stink eye over the lack of moving away from said distraction.

“Let’s begin with what you would like me to do for you, Violet,” Mae replied as she set out a pad of paper and a pen before sitting back in her chair.

Violet felt like sludge had invaded her throat. She sipped at her tea, only to find that it became wet cotton that sat right at her larynx. Blowing out a breath she half expected the woman before her to be shooting her an impatient expression. Instead, Mae was completely relaxed as if her time was endless and she could spend the entirety of the day waiting.

Violet slid the summons across the table to the lawyer’s waiting eyes. She paused to allow the woman to fully read what the expectation of the summons was and then waited for her to once again meet her gaze. There was a ridge in the coffee mug before her that she swiped her finger up and down, up and down, discovering the grounding effect of the flaw in the ceramic. A few moments was all it took for Ms. Williams to fully read the document.

“This is a general summons from an ADA,” she remarked as she set it to the side. “This pertains to a criminal case. These types of summons are sent out when the prosecuting attorney is looking for more information. Why do you think that you received this summons, Violet?”

Dread spilled across her skin as the coward in her stabbed in her ribs. Running her teeth across her bottom lip several times she fought to keep her voice from trembling. “My friend, Dr. Alison Mundrow, was attacked by her boyfriend, Dr. Timothy Paulsen. He has been arrested on several charges. I assume I am being summoned as Tim is my former financé. At one time, I was in Alison’s place but my case did not make it to trial.”

“Did he take a plea deal? Did you settle out of court?” she asked as she made a note.

“No. Honestly, I am surprised that I received one of these as my case… My situation was fucked from the beginning,” she said, her voice crackling until it shattered across the words.

Mae set her pen down before taking a sip of her tea. The simple pause seemed to diffuse her emotions, giving Violet a moment to recollect herself and return strong. “Violet, I understand that this is going to be difficult. I assure you that I am unaware of any details in this matter, but while that may be the case, everything is confidential and protected.”

“Tim’s from a family with money - old money. He’s got quite the team of lawyers that earn every penny they charge him,” she said with a grind of her teeth. The unspent venom that flooded her mouth was bitter as she had to swallow it down once more. “They utilized me against my own case. No matter how good, how smart, how established in my own career, how much I did for the community – everything was taken away. It did not matter if I testified. Didn’t testify. Tim used me against myself and his lawyers were very good at their job.”

“May I ask what they used to be able to achieve this feat of misjustice?”

Violet turned away, retreating into the living room just enough to be able to touch Jake’s coat. Whether or not the woman took notice did not matter. Just having something of his close to her settled her core. “They used my sexual interests against me.”

The words hung in the air. Violet kept her back turned away in embarrassment. This woman may be under her employ, but she was still a stranger. The understanding noise that came from Mae gave her pause.

“I am going to assume that the judge allowed it. And of course the judge did not accept the argument from the ADA that the defense was casting prejudice on the victim. It did not matter if they also argued that sexual experiences did not play a role in the violence experienced by the plaintiff. I’m also going to assume that the judge referenced this as going to show the character of the victim.” Mae set her own cup down with a muted thunk. Violet listened to her scribble something down on her pad of paper, the speed of the scraping of pen against paper was sharp, as if the ink was spilling out hot and angry and cursing the words she wrote into existence. “Motherfucker.”

Mae made no apologies for the unprofessional slip. Instead she made a few more notes before sitting back in her chair with another sip of tea. Her eyes prickled with thought. Violet’s hand came down on Jake’s coat in search of a moment to grounding. He was real. He was the one that loved her for all she was - the pretty, the petty, the ugly, the wonderful. He was the one who looked upon her as his partner in this cursed world.

“What is it that you need of me?” she asked as she curled her fingers around the base of her mug.

The stab of cowardice plunged from her ribs to her heart. “I cannot survive another round of courtrooms, even if it means helping out a friend. My ultimate fear is that I am the reason her case is skewed so that once again that man goes free.”

“What a selfless act, Violet,” she remarked.

Her fingers grazed the surface of the coat once more as the thought of Jake not having it flitted through her mind. The idea of him in the ditch without a heavy coat bothered her. The likelihood of him being in a ditch was small, but it was still there. Still possible. The burn of bile made her gag.

“Selfless?” The word did not feel right to her. Ali was counting on her friends to give her the shelter. “I’m a fucking coward is what I am. The furthest from selfless as one can get, Ms. Williams.”

“There are options here, Violet,” she said, disregarding her client’s sentiments. “I can talk directly to the ADA that has been assigned to the case in your stead. They will need no answer from you as to why you do not want to speak to them in person or even via video. That is your right under Wisconsin law in this case. I will decline their request to speak with you. If I may, I will point them to your own case, perhaps that will end all future inquiry.”

Violet nodded. She watched as the woman put away her notepad and pen into her briefcase. Her brow pinched when she did not continue with her offered options.

“Mae? What other options do I have?”

The corners of the lawyer's mouth turned down in an effort of canceling a smile. “With your permission, I could step in, search for others to take your place in giving the ADA a case that will put this asshole in a hell of his own making. I can, depending on the others, pursue a civil trial and break the man’s bank and balls even more. I will, of course, cover all of the victims if possible, including your friend.”

A soft sob broke from her lungs before Violet could capture it. “You can do that?”

Mae nodded with a sideways grin. “Oftentimes, in these cases, the lawyers literally buy the defendant’s way out of the case. It’d be nice for the good guys to win on this occasion. What do you think?”

Violet’s hands covered her mouth as relief poured in. “And I won’t have to return to Madison?”

“Only if you want to, Violet.”

Nodding, she drew in a breath until her lungs could hold no more. Turning to her bookcase, she bent, opening the small bottom cabinet to reveal a safe. Her quivering fingers barely had the strength to tap in the combination. Slowly, she withdrew the thick, nondescript binder that held three years of trauma. With trepidation, she set it before Mae as if her hands were being liberated of a burden.

“What is this?” she asked carefully, her hand gentle on the unmarked cover.

A tingle crossed her face as her lungs ruptured in emotion that she had not felt in some time in the matter hammered through her veins. Hope. Hope for Ali. Hope for herself. Hope for all the others that he had damaged, blazing a path of destruction that had been allowed for years to go unpunished. When she spoke, her voice was not her own. It was not full of fierceness. It was not full of strength. It was stripped and raw and naked for the world to hear.

“It’s me.”

She had stood at the front window to watch Mae Williams drive down the driveway, only to find herself still standing there when Jake pulled into the driveway. Her thoughts were blank slates. No texture. No color. No formed pieces of puzzles of what had been, could have been or what was. There had to have been at least an hour, maybe more between the two entities moving within her sphere. Violet was unsure. The minute ache in her back and in her ankles when she did move when Jake breezed into the kitchen with grocery bags told her it was more than likely closer to two hours than the singular. The hopeful look he wore when he walked towards her tried and failed to ignite anything within her body. Jake’s expression became cautious as he reached for her.

Violet was searching for a voice as he drew her close to his frame. She wanted to wrap around him. She wanted to kiss him and flood her senses with everything about him. Instead, all she managed was a shredded whisper. “You forgot your coat.”

She felt herself falling against him as he drew her in. His warmth penetrated her skin as his gentleness eased across her frame. He did not try to wipe at her cheeks, or kiss away the pain. Just stood with her. Holding her.

Violet struggled. She found the absence of him close was near unbearable. If he noticed her need, he did not let on. He was talking about the store and how they actually had some cut of beef that he hadn’t been able to get anywhere but Nashville and that it would make a good supper to invite her parents over for, and if she felt really adventuresome, to have Tony and Cara over just to see what the Hell-wrecker would think. She sat on the counter. Her heart longed to feel the lightness of his words and soft laughter. Instead, she felt mired in the moment.

“Hey,” he whispered, fingers wrapped around her wrist to capture her attention.

She had not noticed that she had started crying again. “Sorry.”

“No. No sorries needed,” he said, stepping between her knees to bring himself closer.

“I just feel… I feel so fucked up and can’t do anything about it, Jake.”

He looked over his shoulder as if taking stock in what was left on the counters. He stepped away, holding up a finger to wait. He put away the rest of the fridge and freezer stuff before returning to her. He wrapped her legs around his center and lifted her off the counter.

“What-” she gasped as his hands dug into her ass to hold her up.

She clung to him as he huffed it up the stairs and into the bedroom. She found herself landing on the bed. He disappeared and was moving around in the bathroom only to reappear with her soft jammie t-shirt. She smiled as he undressed first, getting down to his briefs. He moved to take off her sweater and replace it, but she stilled his hands. Instead, stripping out of her everything and tugging down his briefs. They slid beneath the sheets with Violet finding her favorite spot against his side with her cheek pressed to his chest to listen to the thrum of his heartbeat.

“A little better?” he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her cheek.

His warmth invaded her from toe to head and back again. The comfort oozed into all her nicks, scratches, and wounds. She breathed in his skin and listened to the love that rolled in and out on the tide of his own breath. He anchored her yet freed her; allowed her to fly while providing a safe landing space. Violet could only hope that she provided all of it in return to him, but feared that was not totally the truth. Her fingers smoothed across the softness of his belly over and over like an expanse of silk billowing on a breeze. The ache of need needled her heart greedily. More. Always more.

Gently, she tugged at his hip. “I need you inside,” she sighed as she let her legs fall open to give him room. “Please. I just…”

He let her help guide him across her body. His eyes on hers as he lowered his hips against her. Half erect, he kissed her gently as he pressed himself inside slowly. She could feel him harden fully as her body made room for him, accepted him, held him. Her fingertips skated down the expanse of his back, rooting herself to him like old tree roots clinging to a cliffside. He lifted up on his forearms to look down at her. Their noses bumping gently as he was slow to move in and out.

His dark eyes shimmered as he stayed connected with her. The corner of his mouth curled with the warmth of a smile that was all her own. She wrapped her legs around his middle, inviting him to move deeper. She was nearing the point of saturation. He lingered against her skin, landing gentle kisses against the ridge of her cheeks and between her eyes, the tip of her nose and the edge of her chin. Climax was not the treasure sought. Joy was not the spoils. It was a communion of their flesh, each offering freely.

Jake slid his hands beneath her shoulders, encircling her and placing all of his weight against as he nuzzled in against her neck. Violet held tight. A fragile breath escaping against his ear as he pressed a few more times before cumming into her silently. She turned her face against him to look into his sleepy eyes. It was the most tender of moments. She cupped his cheek as he kissed the cap of her shoulder. Somehow, she could see deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes and thinned out hair and even a heavier jowl structure before her and he was still the most beautiful creature she could behold. This was her Jake. Her man. And he was not going anywhere. This was going to be life long. Her heart swelled as his breath drifted across her collarbones and his fingers danced through her hair. Forever was looking pretty good.

“I don’t understand,” Ali repeated for the third time, the heat in her voice edging towards anger.

“I wanted you to hear it from me, not a lawyer, Alison,” Violet said, starting from the beginning again. “I cannot come to Madison again…”

The fury that was unleashed made her drop the phone and leave it on the counter while her friend sputtered and screamed and demanded that she explain her reasoning. How could she allow that man to do this to them? The spiral that Alison diverted to sent Violet into a corner. She had already talked with Kirby about it. Expressed her fear over the words that she was going to have to say while Ali absorbed the blow. There was no need to fully explain why - her therapist assured her that she did not need to vomit out each and every reason why she did not want to participate in the case, or why she could not be in court as support. The way to protect herself needed no explanation other than the simple truth that in order to keep moving forward, Violet felt what was best for herself was to distance herself from the event, from the trauma that she could not face at the time.

Putting the speaker on, she drew herself up to her full height. Straight back, face stern. She waited until Ali finally paused long enough for her to clear her throat.

“Alison, I need you to understand. I love you. You have been dear to me for years. As my friend, I am asking you to accept that for my own health, I cannot come to Madison.” She dragged her teeth across her lip as the quiet stretched. “It does not mean that I will not support you. Does not mean that I cannot be your friend. It just means that I am too fragile -”

“Bullshit,” Alison seethed.

“I am too fragile to handle the situation. If you will not respect this, then perhaps we can try again in the future.”

She did not wait to say goodbye. She left no space for debate or argument. She pressed to end the call and stepped away from the counter. The silence that swelled moved like water around her, welcoming her, threatening her. Violet took in one breath and blew it from her body. She took another breath, and held it for a count of three before releasing it. She repeated the process, holding for shorter, then longer periods. Her heart slowed its frantic pace. Her brain cleared of its panic that was so close to her edge. Her legs were the first to relax. There was no need to run from the moment. It was time to just be still. Her breath drew in on a count of ten, released on a count of ten as her fingers fanned out on the counter before her. She was going to be fine. She was going to survive this. Alison was going to survive. It was not on her that her friend did not understand - yet - why she needed to protect the precarious hold she had on her control.

Jake was beginning to move around upstairs. He had obviously heard the commotion and the words of her phone call with Alison. He had already voiced concern in their time with Kirby how she was going to handle trying to shelter herself from Alison’s more aggressive expectations. He said his piece then retreated in the conversation. Violet knew that he felt that he had crossed a line in his expression. She had tried to convey that she appreciated his concern and his desire to try to shelter her. Kirby had just remained silent through the transaction. The woman’s broad face always seemed to absorb every note, every twitch of vibrato, and every hidden silence.

Violet reached for her cup and set up a pod for tea. They had yet to really talk about the lawyer’s visit and what to expect over the coming months. Mae had assured her that it would be fine for her to travel and go about normal life. She said that she would keep her appraised of the case.

Jake padded down the stairs, his eyes troubled. Violet tried to give him space by turning her attention back to her laptop. She was expected to check in for a briefing for work and decided to slip her earbuds in and get it over with. Her eyes trailed Jake as he moved around the kitchen, making a cup of coffee, grabbing some fruit from the fridge. He passed by the table, leaning in to kiss the top of her head with a touch on her arm before he moved into the living room. He had settled into the couch with his own laptop and notebook in hand. She heard Josh’s voice just as Shelli and the others popped into the meeting space, effectively turning her attention back to work. It would have to be a conversation to be had when cooler temperatures prevailed.

Hope you enjoyed this part. Next week is going to be a little… spicy. I do have a tag list if you are interested - you can find it here. See you next Wednesday!

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight

#jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf smut

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knickynoo · 1 year

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Hello ! I hope you haven't already answered this, and if you have I am so sorry, please ignore it. Do you think, like MJF once said, that Alex would have ended up in jail at some point ? If so, I know prison is no laughing matter, but I can't help picturing him as overly tidy with his belongings and extremely cranky at the idea of SHARING A CELL (Good Lord !) with a fellow inmate because we all know that boy needs his space and loves his comfort :'D Any thoughts on Alex's little stint in jail ?

Hi! Nope, haven't answered an ask about this :) And even if I had, I'd reply to this anyway. Whenever I get a question that's similar to one I've already gotten in the past, I'm usually happy to visit the topic again and expand my thoughts. So, no worries!

I have seen that article! It was the one where they asked MJF and the creator of Family Ties where they thought Alex would be in life today, right? Goldberg said Alex would be a pro-bono lawyer and MJF was just like, "Yeah, no, Alex would be in prison."

I gotta say, it's really difficult for me to imagine a scenario that would lead Alex to prison, but I'd assume his predicament would be due to an inappropriate handling of money? Which I suppose I could see, although Alex is typically the type to listen to his conscience in the end and do the right thing. Maybe he's tricked or framed in some way? Anyway! Alex in jail thoughts...

- I mean, technically, Alex would already have a tiny bit of experience being behind bars from when he was arrested with all those women at that ERA meeting, lol. Not that it would help him much to prepare.

- Also, haven't Steven and Elyse been arrested and put in jail a dozen times in their younger years for all their political protests?? Maybe they'd have some advice for their son.

- Yes, the biggest thing for Alex would be his need for his own space and comfort items. He would be thrown all out of whack not having things the way he's used to. And yes, he would be keeping things orderly and tidy.

- I assume there are strict routines in prisons and the days are very structured. That could be a possible plus for him? Alex would like having things be done in the same way every day. He'd probably memorize all the schedules of all the other inmates and the workers.

- Overall, though, I can't decide which way Alex would go. He'd either be getting on EVERYBODY'S nerves, ranting about the injustice of his whole situation, complaining about everything, running off his mouth to the other inmates etc or he'd go the "teacher's pet" route and be so very well-behaved. Probably leaning toward the first option, because that's more in line with who Alex is. Just saying things he absolutely shouldn't say to people's faces and getting himself into trouble 14 times a day, all the while having No Awareness that he's doing anything wrong. Perhaps he'd make a nice friend who would protect him from all his social faux pas.

Thanks for the ask!

#asks #family ties #alex p keaton #apk

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a-house-in-a-mushroom · 1 year

Video

youtube

How To Pick The Right Law Firm Administration Programming

Similarly as unpretentious subtleties can change the result of legal activities, little oversights can make one practice the board programming application a star and another a flop. There are three periods of law firm administration programming reception - seller determination, establishment and preparing, and consistence. On the off chance that you require some investment to do this right, your training will enormously benefit.

Look Around

Make a rundown of the highlights you need from law firm administration programming. Ponder center capabilities such as billable time following, client information bases and archive the executives, yet additionally think about extra elements. For instance, do you need an application that additionally handles email or will you believe it should integrate with your organization's ongoing email framework?

Attempt before you purchase. Pick a merchant that will send a delegate to your office for a showing or do a virtual show on the web; yet don't simply stay there and pay attention to a promoting show. You wouldn't buy a vehicle without test driving it first, and the equivalent should go for an item that will fundamentally affect your training. Get an involved vibe for how natural and responsive the framework can be to your requirements. Concoct explicit situations you need to see, similar to how practice the executives programming would generate a client report for a particular period, or how you can see two lawyers' schedules simultaneously.

Establishment And Preparing

You can't introduce another program on your law firm's network and expect that is its finish. This is only the start. After establishment and testing on your firm's PC frameworks, preparing and counseling for your lawyers and staff are basic to guarantee you get the most worth from the recently integrated law the board programming.

When in doubt, hope to spend as much on these administrations as you spent on the first item. Outsider experts give the schooling important to get all representatives utilizing the framework with certainty from the very beginning. They help your organization to utilize the application to its maximum capacity, and help with redoing the application to your law firm's particular requirements. Experts facilitate the progress time frame and raise your organization back to an acceptable level all the more rapidly, instead of staggering along all alone.

Consistence

Some lawyers will be impervious to the new practice the executives programming. Routine errands may be seen as more testing since they don't have a clue about the framework any longer. They are enticed to find strategies for getting around the new innovation, obstinately sticking to old techniques. Try not to let them. Convey composed approaches that make plainly all assignments should be completed with the new firm administration framework.

#youtube

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draggeddowntothedark · 2 years

Note

"alt!"

Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!

"Oh, I wasn't expecting anyone else today, but if you need a legal consultation, come into my office. It will have to be brief though."

The man there is unimposing in every way, well dressed with a quiet voice and thick rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. He gestures for you to have a seat across from his desk, which is practically spartan with its lack of decor- the only personal item is a picture frame that shows two smiling blonde children.

"I have to get home to them soon- they're likely terrorizing the new nanny as we speak," the man chuckled before he folded his hands in front of him. His amber eyes stare into yours, and there's something not quite right about his smile... how it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Tell me, what is it you've come to me for?"

-- Ezekiel Trioson.... Lawyer?

#*CACKLES IN LORE DROP/OLD MUSE-NEW MUSE*#questions answered;asks

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ferndalegoodgames · 2 years

Text

Narrative Design: Ace Attorney

The next time I design a game, it will probably look a lot like Ace Attorney.

I recently picked up the Ace Attorney trilogy on Switch for $15. A few hours in, it's clear that this package, at this price, is an absolute steal.

The genius of this series is immediate. It's design is clean; the craftsmanship impeccable; the feedback loop inviting to an audience that is broad, both inside the usual game-playing humans of the world as well as outside of them.

The more I study this series, the little surprise there is that it began life on the Gameboy Advance, thrived on the DS, and has ascended into the pantheon of Capcom staple IP's, playable across all game-playing devices along with your Mega Mans and Resident Evils.

Much like Pokémon, Golden Sun, Advance Wars, or any great series that starts on a handheld but aims for gameplay and narrative ambitions far beyond the confines of the little device it was born on, the makers of this game are cut from a different cloth. They know what you could be playing on your more expensive box hooked to your TV. And they want to deliver that same experience to you. But they have different boundaries to work within. Their work requires them to be more nimble, efficient, and able to do much with little.

Let's quickly review the basic building blocks of an Ace Attorney game:

Ace Attorney falls under the more-interactive-than-average visual novel genre.

You play as a lawyer named Phoenix Wright. He begins as a clumsy, bumbling fool with spontaneous shows of courtroom mastery, traits which I imagine remain consistent so you can always be sure to laugh when he falters but still feel responsible for when he triumphs.

You are joined by an over-the-top anime-as-f cast. Unlike, say, some store-brand JRPG party members, Ace Attorney characters ooze charm. Their silhouettes are iconic; their mannerisms delightfully characterized with choice few frames of animation. (though, as is often the case in Japanese character design, the untamable boobs of the women cast makes me embarrassed to play this on my tv)

The game is divided into episodes, each a court case you tackle, each fairly short and easy. The narrative is linear, but designed to instill a greater feeling of agency than what's actually possible.

The vertical slice of these games, more or less, goes something like this: chapter setup, acquire info/items > enter courtroom, hear testimony > cross-examine, press arguments, present evidence > repeat for new testimonies / cross-examining > reach verdict, chapter conclusion.

The whole thing is zany; it almost instantly fails to live up to real-world courtroom scrutiny; it's wonderful.

The more I study this game, the more I start to wonder:

Why isn't the market flooded with games like this? Or, more importantly, why aren't they as popular as Ace Attorney?

I'm not talking about more courtroom / detective hybrid narrative games. I'm talking about games with the same building blocks. You can swap the lawyering out with other content, but keep the same bones, and still have something thoroughly pleasurable; something you could apply to any number of narrative journeys.

And yes, I'm aware this genre is indeed populated with games that have similar, if not the exact structural DNA of Ace Attorney. But I would argue few are as engaging; as broadly entertaining; as finely honed. This is a present-day story with a well-understood job. Most similarly-designed visual novels deal in fantasy and sci-fi tropes that turn the masses away. I'd wager that this design framework is primed for widespread success in the right hands and with the right execution.

That's what I mean when I say, the next game I design, I'm stealing from Ace Attorney. Here's how I'll do it:

Minimal Investment: Ace Attorney is cost-effective-as-f. The vast majority of the budget for these games, I imagine, is spent on character art, background art, and writing the narrative. I imagine that programming these games, while not trivial, is rather straightforward compared to virtually any other genre of games. And yet, this minimal design yields a rewarding gameplay experience, elevating it beyond a fun visual novel that you tap through idly. Which leads me to...

Narrative Design: Ace Attorney makes you feel smart, even in the bare-bones opening tutorial case. It does this by funneling you down a straight path, then presents a sprawling set of pathways, which all ultimately loop back around to the main line. It does this by letting you do a few things in your own order and by giving you an "inventory." But the number of possible things you can do, or items / information you can possess are manageable, legible, and meaningfully connected to tasks at hand. It strikes this incredible balance of forward momentum with player choice; of being able to experiment with options, and ultimately fail, but with legible boundaries and room for forgiveness in errors.

Flexible Scenario / Aesthetic: Best of all, Ace Attorney games, to me, simply don't feel tethered to stories centered around a courtroom; to stories this framework was designed around. To me, the most important elements are that you have a protagonist doing an activity that requires talking to accomplish goals, which is often informed by additional resources, be it some sort of object or some piece of external information.

Example: What about a game where you're a car salesperson? You could start out at a lowly used dealership. A customer approaches. They lay out their case for what they want. You could seize upon moments where they're hesitant and unsure, like when they say "well, my spouse might not want to spend that much..." Your "inventory" could contain useful talking points about cars that would entice the customer. Or maybe you could utilize a limited special deal that your manager bestows upon you. The game could allow you to fail, to let the customer get away, or you could claw your way to the top of the monthly charts, wowing and annoying your NPC co-workers.

Holy shit...

I think I'm accidentally writing the initial pitch for the game I'm going to make. I should probably seize this creative flourish of energy into something tangible.

But I will probably just pick up my Switch, and resume the delightful rabbit hole that is Ace Attorney.

#video games #game design #ace attorney

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