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misguidedasgardian · 8 months

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2. All in

MASTERLIST

Summary: You don’t know how you got to the point where Jace was just… living there with you… you liked it though

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, therapy, misogynistic undertones (“man of the house” and whatnot), Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, implied tampering with birth control, spy cameras, a bit creepiness, alcohol consumption, reader is a bit drunk in some parts, masturbation, fingering, inappropriate relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Notes: OH MY! things are heating up, I really don’t want to drag this along hehe, I want to just get to the good part

He knew that he had to bid his time, that he needed to draw you in, but as he sneaked a peek at you, he got so tempted…

He had picked a movie called “the boy next door”, in which a separated woman who is going through a divorce, moves to a small town where she starts an affair… with the 20 year old boy next door. You looked away at the very hot sex scene between them

The mom was interpreted by a famous actress, a singer, a hot, mature one.

You were acting so coy, looking away, Jace got painfully hard just by looking at you. You had “made yourself comfortable”, wearing some black cotton leggings that did nothing to hide your delicious thighs and ass. and that sweater too big for you

Now you were curled up on the couch, nursing your beer.

Jace could bet you thought it was hot, that’s why you were so embarrassed, the best part is that he was older than the guy in the movie, and you were way younger than her…

Jace always thought it was creepy how there was a huge age gap between you and Harwin, and a much lesser one between you and him.

“You didn’t like the movie?”, he asked, making you jump. You laughed coyly

“It’s good”, you muttered, nodding and taking a sip, “a bit kinky Jace”

“Oh right”, he mocked, you were twenty nine, a week shy of turning thirty, you were not an old woman, you were barely getting started

Why couldn’t you see that?”

He put on his best puppy dog face

“Yeah, it’s awkward”, he muttered, turning towards you, “can I ask you a question?”, he asked, when the actress was whining about her cheating ex-husband

“Yeah”, you said, smiling encouragingly at him

“What happened between you and Harwin?”, Harwin, not dad, he couldn’t have you connecting those dots tonight

You took a sip of your second beer

“It’s complicated Jacey”, you said softly

“I’m sure you can work it out”, he said dismissively, he was being risky, but he needed to know, he needed to know by your own words what happened, and then he could exploit it

“I’m not so sure”, you whispered, taking yet another sip of beer, Jace had you exactly where he wanted you

“Why did you kick him out?”, he asked then

“Jace..”

“What did he do that was so bad?”, he said innocently

“Well. we drew apart last year and… well, he was feeling lonely I guess, I was too occupied with Aerea…”, Jace blood was boiling, he couldn’t believe was he was hearing, you were trying to soften the fact that the bastard had cheated on you, only for him to hear, his son

Gods you were so fucking good

So nice

He couldn’t wait to keep you full of his cock, because if you kept that up, you are never going to refuse him once he starts fucking you

“He felt lonely?”, he couldn’t keep the ruse up for long, “what does that mean?”

“Jace I really don’t want to speak ill of your father”, you whispered

“He cheated on you, didn’t he?”, he asked, and to you, he was appearing completely heart broken, like he just learned his hero had done something terrible

Jace should be an actor

“Well…”

“What a cunt!”, he cursed

“Jace, he is your father!”, you chided, “he cheated on me, not you”

“How could he?”, he continued, “how could he cheat on you? you are beautiful, smart, funny, hot as hell”

“Jace!”, you said, embarrassed that he would call you that… hot as hell. what a joke

“Why would he?”, he asked again, “he must be insane!”

“Well Jace, my pregnancy wasn’t easy, and women bodies change when they… get pregnant, and after they give birth”, you whispered, remember sadly how Harwin loved to make the baby, but not as much once she was about to be born or already here, when your body started changing

“You can’t be serious!”, he snapped, “you are blaming yourself?”

“I shouldn’t have told you”, you said, feeling guilty

“I’m glad you did”, he made his play, he placed a hand on your shoulder, and your raised your gaze again to look at him wide-eyed, “he has never stopped disappointing me, this doesn’t surprise me”, he admitted, “but I’m glad I can be here for you”

“Thank you”, you said, smiling softly, he caressed your arm

“He doesn’t deserve you, or Aerea”, he whispered, “come here”, he was all in, you smiled and happily scooched over to his open arms, to hug him

A seemingly kind, warm gesture

“I’m glad you are here Jacey”, you whispered

“I’m glad to be here to keep you company”, he said against the top of your head, “you deserve better, a man that cares for you, desires you, takes care of your daughter…”

“Thank you Jacey, and I have to say, you and your brothers will always be welcomed in my home”

. . .

Tonight had gone way better than he expected

Through the camera in your room, Jace could you tossing and turning in your bed, it was still hot outside, you were sleeping in these flimsy cotton shorts, and you accommodated yourself placing the sheet between your thighs, you bend your back, popping out your ass

Fuck

He was already hard

He took out his cock, already weeping, and he started squeezing it and stroking

You were right there

Just two rooms over

He could go, open the door, rip your shorts off your body, and fuck you

He know you’d love it, you were so deprived of physical love and affection

He needed to exploit it

He touched himself at the visual of the two of you, when you hugged him over the couch, he imagined you raised your head then, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, he imagined grabbing your jaw and devouring you, kissing you hungrily.

He thought about pushing down on your back and him jumping over you, ready to eat you whole, ripped off your clothes and go at it right on the living room

He imagined how tight you would feel around him, as he snapped his hips into you over and over, oh! the sounds you could make, he had to cover your mouth with his big hand, to not wake Aerea

As he looked down at your desperate face, when he finally finds that spot inside you, your eyes would roll off to the back of your head, as he’d feel his hand wet with your saliva, your mouth open in desperation against his palm

Those tits of your, finally released from his prison, would be moving to the rhythm of his thrusts

His big, fat cock in and out of you as he fucked you as deeply as he could go

But once he started he would stop there, he would release you, taking himself out of you with no warning, making you whine and cling onto him, begging him for more

He knows he had you then

So he would grab you roughly, he wanted to see your ass now, he would turn you around so you’d be in all fours for him, and he would fuck you again, your round ass there in his grasp… your skin jiggling when the thrusted into you

Fuck

It was embarrassing to admit how fast he cummed, knowing you were just a few feet away from him

. . .

Soon another week ran past, Jace was coming and going from your house to his, now he couldn’t point blankly stay in your place, he had to return to his own home

But he came back… regularly

It was true, at least, the business part. He had invested most of his savings on this enterprise with his friend Cregan Stark, but it was just so perfect to use it for his own benefit

Apparently your interview had also played out, because now you were working, Aerea was in daycare, and Jace was currently on a videochat with his friend and business partner

“Well Jace, normally I would be against my best friend baby trapping some woman but phweet”, he whistled, “she is delicious”

“Isn’t she?”, he purred, he felt so proud of himself, he had sent his friend pictures, boasting about you like you were already his, and you somehow were, in his mind, “She is so fucking naive, and sweet, gods!”

Cregan laughed through the computer

“Damn, and how do you plan on getting her though”

“Well, the devil’s in the details, I already have access to her place, her daughter…”

“You half sister”, mocked Cregan

“Already calls me dada, and adores me, I’ve already made myself indispensable at her home”, he continued, “she is totally dependant on me to do all the “toughest” things around the house”

“Good good”, he purred, “so after it is all done.. what are you going to do?”

“Well, our company is going to be up there isn’t it?”

“You plan on moving her here?”

“When we start our relationship…”

“When you knock her up you mean..”

“I don't think she would want to stay here near all the people that know us so…”

“Good”, his friend seemed pleased

He heard you coming in the house then, and Jace got jumpy

“She is here, gotta go..”, he whispered

“Well Jace, good meeting, I’ll send you the details of the first shipment”

“And I will have those sheets for later…”, he said, continuing their conversation from before

“Great”, you waved at him from behind the counter, and he smiled back, Aerea came rushing in

“DADDY!”, She greeted, and Jace couldn’t be happier, he grabbed her and showed her to Cregan through the camera

“Hi”, greeted Aerea

“And who’s that?”, teased Cregan, “Hello sweetie, she is a sweet little thing, looks like you Jace!”, he said loudly, winking at his friend, Cregan chuckled as you looked surprised

“Doesn’t she?”, he teased

The call was ended short after, and you looked a bit conflicted, Jace could tell

You didn’t like the fact that Aerea called Jace “daddy”, it wasn’t healthy, your child needed to know, to remember her father, or else she was going to get all confused

Luckily, Harwin had agreed to take her, the weeks he had his kids, so he could get help from Jace and Luke, and it was easier on him…

Perhaps he wanted some weeks off to see her… or others

Not that you’d care

You start putting some things you bought after work around, and you smiled fakely at Jace as he approached

“Need help with something?”, he asked, he had noticed you ahd bought a couple of bottles of wine, you were going to have the first week to yourself since… forever and a hot bubbly bath with a cup of whine and some strawberries with chocolate sounds like the remedy to all your problems

“It’s fine Jace”, you said softly, “Harwin is picking you both any minute now”, you made him remember

He looked somewhat disappointed

“Right, this is his first week with Aerea, right?”

“Right”, you smiled

“Actually, I have a bunch of work to do, do you mind if I stay the night again?”, he asked

He was risking it, he thought

You could use some time alone, you thought yourself

But those big eyes of him, made you smile

You had all week

“Sure”, you said, faking another smile, he smiled back at you sincerely.

He didn’t like that fake smile on your face

He could tell he had overplayed it

“I’m gonna keep working…”

“Sure”, you said, you then turned to Aerea, “Let’s get you packed sweety, wanna go to papa?”

The little girl’s face lit up

“PAPA!”, she exclaimed, reaching for you, as you were going to take her to him

“Let’s go darling”, you whispered sweetly

You felt Jace’s gaze as you walked down the hallway

He growled, frustrating, and he realized he had to change his strategy

He sat back in front of the computer and he finished his work, it didn't take him more than twenty minutes

When you appeared back, you had a large bag in your hands, and Jace changed his plan right then, he put wavy his computer and gave you a smile

“Turns out I didn't have much work as I thought”, he said, “I’m done, and I should go to my dad’s”, you smiled then sincerely

“That is great,I know that I shouldn’t had said what i said, he is still your father and he loves you and cares for you deeply”, he smiled and nodded

You heard a honk outside

“There’s papa!”, Aerea applauded

Harwin might be a shitty husband, but he was not a shitty dad, Jace had to admit, replacing him was not going to be as easy as he thought

You were nervous as you led your little girl outside, it was going to be the first time you saw Harwin since you split

He walked to the door with a soft smile

“Hey darling”, he said, looking straight at you, and then he turned to Aerea, who jumped into his arms

“Hey”

Jace thought he was going to be happy to witness this debacle, but it wasn’t weird or angry, you were actually smiling tenderly at the fucker

“Jace, you are here”, muttered Harwinm, surprised, “thanks for keeping my girls company”

That was a low blow for everyone there

You stomach sank, but Jace got so angry

He didn’t deserve calling you his

“We should go”, muttered Jace, grabbing Aerea, and you thanked him for it, to distract her, or else she was going to start crying when she realizes you are not going

You waved him goodbye as they got in the car and drove away

You loved your daughter with all your heart, but Gods if you needed a break from all of this

You had bought like a ton of chocolate, wine, strawberries, your favorite pasta dish, you even went as far as to go to the grocery store and buy yourself those “spa” bundles, that include a candle, a very bubbly soap, a nice soft loofah, and body cream for later

So you did exactly that

You got comfortable, got rid of your clothes, until you were in your underwear (a lacey little thing you had bought to entice Harwin), and you put a soft robe on top, just to cover your modesty.

You cooked your pasta, with your favorite sauce, you poured some wine in your cup, as you watched from the kitchen your favorite show. And when it was ready.

You ate it with pleasure, congratulated yourself because it was as good as you wanted it, so delicious, very creamy.

You poured more wine

then you watched some more twenty minutes episodes of your favorite soap opera and THEN… you melted the chocolate, cutted some strawberries, and with a bottle and cup in hand, you went to treat yourself to the bathroom

You filled the tub, you put in the entirety of that bubble bath and you sipped your wine happily until it was full, then you undressed, dropping pieces of clothing anywhere.

Despite what happened with Harwin in the last years, today, you were feeling particularly sexy, perhaps you were ovulating or something.

You undressed like the sexiest man alive was there, watching your every move, and then, you got into the tub, moaning to express the wonderful time you were having, the hot water instantly relaxing your tired body

Oh shit you forgot the music

No matter.

The warm up for the tub had been so nice that, now you were horny, very horny.

Your “sexy man” was watching, so you decided to give him a show, you dipped your finger in the chocolate and brought it to your mouth

Immediately the delicious taste invaded you

Your other hand went to one of your breasts, your nipples already hard. Oh fuck you were going to enjoy this

It had been a while since you felt like this…

Since your baby-making months…

You placed a chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth, and moaned at the taste, and at the feeling of your fingers pinching your nipple softly

You were so horny, your hand traveled down the waters over your belly and you were ready to really treat yourself

And then, just about when thing were starting to get truly fucking good

You felt the front door opening loudly. You heard a familiar voice calling your name

SHIT! JACE!

You gasped, as it was just down the hall, and the door to the bathroom was wide open, and your underwear was in the hallway, and by the soft candlelights coming from the bathroom…

“WAIT!”, you pleaded, “I’m in the bathroom!”

“I’m sorry!”, he lamented, you heard him getting closer

“Jace, don’t come in please”, you whined, your hand until over your pubis, gods, this was going to be so good.

And yet…

The need didn’t go away being almost being caught

“You good?”, asked Jace, just by the door

“Too good Jacey”, you said, not being able to hide how disappointed you were

“I’m sorry I interrupted you”, he sounded entertained, he had clearly saw your underwear there

“Did something happen?”, you asked

“Harwin and I had a huge fight, I’m so sorry I… should have called you, or gone home, but… the only place I deemed safe is… well… here”

You sighed, loudly

“Jace you caught me in a bad time”, you admitted

Oh he knew exactly what you were doing, and he timed it just perfectly

As you looked at the space of the open door, your breathing quickened

Jace was right there

And that didn't turn you off, it did the opposite

You almost got caught masturbating on the bath by the hottest twenty one year old you had ever seen

But you shouldn’t, you whined to yourself

And as you looked down at the empty bottle of wine… at everything set up for your pleasure…

But you wanted the real thing

So so badly

You didn't realize though, that your “mental” whine, sounded for a real, a moan that got Jace’s blood rushing to his cock, and that made him take a single step, to watch you -in real life and not on his cellphone-, in that tub

You were looking at him wide eyed, as he had your panties on his fist, the ones from the hallway

“Jace?”, you called, you look like a deer in headlights, you didn’t hide, you didn't shrieked and demanded him to leave

You just looked at him, with desire on those beautiful eyes of yours.

Jace growled at the sight of your soapy breasts, peaking over the water, of if he could just take a picture of this moment

You had never been so beautiful

The whole scene looked like a renaissance painting

He grabbed his phone, he couldn’t resist, and snapped a picture

You didn’t even flinched, you even moaned one more time, your chest sticking out

“You look so fucking gorgeous”, he admired, not being able to act any longer, this was it, it came sooner than expected, but anticipated nonetheless

“Jace”, you called, but it wasn't accusatory, it was indeed, a call

He walked until he kneeled by the side of the tub

“When I said I was going to help you with whatever you needed, I mean… anything”, he teased with a wide smile.

You rubbed your tights together shamelessly, not trying to hide it, and Jace smirked darkly

HIs hand disappeared under the water, down your leg and then

You moaned wantonly, like a common whore when a single finger grazed your folds

One touch, and you spread your legs wantonly

How long has it been?

Way too fucking long

“We shouldn’t”, you managed to muster, even though you spread your legs wider like a whore, he only laughed, not believing it for a second

“We shouldn’t… we fucking have to”

He was your stepson

Fuck

You forgot about it pretty quickly when he latched his lips to your, devouring you, taking your breath with only one lock of lips

He fucked you with two fingers, first softly, until you moaned and turned in the tub, asking for more, begging for it.

“You like it when your stepson fingerfucks you?”, he teased

“Yes!”, you admitted, because to you, this was only a dream, this couldn’t be happening, not really.

“Aren’t you a dirty little whore, uh?”, he kept teasing, “fucking men more than a decade older than you, you should be with someone who can keep up with you”

“Someone like you?”, you whined

“Fuck yeah like me”, he said, twisting his fingers until he found what he was looking for, then your eyes did traveled to the back of your head, just like he imagined it

And when you were about to cum…

He released you

“Mmmm why?”, you whined, tears in your eyes

“Because you had been such a tease”, he growled, you are going to beg me to fuck you”, you moaned, “I’ll be waiting for you in your room”, he whispered dangerously, and left the bathroom

Now you could put a stop to this right now, or you could get into your room and get your back blown out just like you needed it

The decision was pretty easy to make

You got out of the tub, dried yourself slowly, not daring to even touch your pussy, then you put on your rob, you could see Jace from the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a smirk on his lips

Where was the sweet boy you had met the past few weeks?

Nowhere to be found

And that made it even more easy to do

You walked slowly, teasingly, your eyes on him, his eyes on you

You didn’t even cared to think about the consequences of this actions

You didn’t care

A primal need had taken a hold in your body, and you they were going to get sated

This was the culmination of years of sexual neglect… you didn't even dare to think about how wrong this was…

“Jacey”, you moaned, testing the opening of the robe, “are you sure?”, you knew your body wasn’t perfect, and yet, you had him here, looking at you like that, eating you with his eyes darkened like those of a hunter about to pounce

This wasn’t happening…

So it didn’t matter

It was all a dream

It had to be

it was definitely not the pills jace had replaced your birth control with

It was not the wine

It was a dream

“I can’t take it any longer”, he muttered, grabbing you by the fabric, ripping your robe from your body, grabbing your hips and drawing you to him, until you straddled him on the bed

You felt his… thick cock right under your pussy, and you moaned, wanted to feel it for real

“Oh yeah, rub yourself on me, you needy little thing”, he whined, he was so fucking sexy, as he looked up to you with those dark eyes, and chiseled like features

He was wearing soft gray cotton pants, that did nothing to hide his monster cock

“Please Jacey”, you whined

“What?”, he teased, “you have been a really bad girl, you know? flaunting all of this in front of me, not even giving me a taste…”, his eyes trailed your naked body over him, his greedy hands grabbing and squishing everything he could get his hands on

You rubbed yourself on him shamesly, needily

“I need you”, you whined

“Oh I know you do”, he growled.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. you separated from him a bit, just enough so you could grab the hem of his pants and lower them, releasing his…

Oh fuck

So you weren’t lying to yourself, it was big and thick, and already so hard, and leaking

All for you

“Mmmm”, you moaned, in anticipation, as you took it with both your hands, it felt so heavy, you couldn’t even wrap your hands around it

“Use it”, demanded Jace, you started rubbing him, pumping him, making sure to use his own precum to lubricate him.

“So big”, you barely recognize yourself, you didn't know what was happening, you wanted him so badly it hurted you

“Is all yours baby”, he whined

If it was yours, you were going to do as you wanted, you dropped to your knees between his thick thighs, as Jace looked down at you with devotion

Only two of his fingers and he had you on your knees for him

He couldn’t even wait to see what was going to happen after he fucked you

He moaned, dropping his head back when you gave him a kitten lick at his tip

“Fuck”, there was no way you could fit it all in your mouth, so you used both hand to massage him as you took care of his tip, “yes just like that”

You moaned approvingly, trying to get as much as you could, but it wasn’t much

“You like sucking cock don’t you?”, he asked, his voice thick

“Yes”, you released him, only to answer, and then you took him in your mouth again, sucking his tip

“Shit!”, he cursed

He knew you were going to be… open… for it, but he never expected this, it was better than anything he could have imagined

You wanted to please him, and he didn't rush you, yet, you tried to take more and more each time your head bobbed up and down

Not even half

But Jace stopped you

“I need you”, he demanded, he stood up and helped you up too, you undressed him at his request, taking his hoodie, shirt, and getting rid of his pants until he kicked them off of his feet

He looked down at you, until he grabbed you, drawing you to him

Your naked bodies collided as your lips with his

He was hungry for you, his tongue immediately asking permission to enter and you gladly granted it

It was dirty, wrong, and you fucking love it

This is a dream

You were a tangle of limbs, as you fell to the bed, but you wanted to resume where you left, so you make sure he accommodate himself on the bed

Your marital bed

His cock rested over his stomach, as you accommodate yourself over him

“Take it slow darling”, he whined, you grabbed his cock still wet with your saliva.

Oh he so wanted to taste you

But tonight, it was all about you using him

You accommodated yourself over him, lining his thick cock with your entrance, and then, you lowered yourself

You moaned when he entered you, the stench was a bit painful, but you were so wet, it felt incredibly delicious

“Tell me darling”, he said, looking up at you, his hand grabbing your hips, squishing the skin, “who is this making you feel so good?

“Mmmm Jace”, you whined, taking another inch inside of you, you moved your hips in circles, easing him into you, it felt so good, to feel him rub against your insides, he was filling you so good.

“Who?”, he demanded

“Jace!”, you cried out, when he retrieved himself, to punish you for something

“Who’s this cock that your are fucking yourself with?”, he asked then

“Yours!”, he slammed down, making you take all of him in one movements, “AH fuck!”, you cursed, “So full”

“This is nothing”, he teased, “I want to see you full of my cum”

Gods those words enticed you to keep moving your hips, fucking yourself on him, until you found the angle you needed, for him to bully your special spot

“It feels so good”, he whined, “your pussy is so fucking tight”

“Your cock is so big”, you babbled, now going up and down

“I know, and it's all yours”

“All mine?”, you asked

“Yes, is this pussy mine?”, he asked, easing your clit with his thumb, making you shriek

“Yes!”, you screamed

“You sure?”, he teased

“Mhmh”, you moaned

“Good girl, as long as it is only mine, you can have this all you want”, you started going back and forth with your hips, making Jacaerys draw his head back… but he couldn’t come just yet, he grabbed you, and with a shriek and a single smooth movement, now he had you under him

“Enough, now we are making thing my way”, he growled

And he started thrusting so hard into you, the bed started creaking dangerously under you, the board slamming against the wall

“Ah”, you whined, your pussy tightening so hard, squeezing him, jace had to work hard not to cum tight then and there

“Take it”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, this must be a dream…

You cummed, hard, didn’t even try not to, it was too much…

And Jace cummed right after, filling you with his cum

You didn't even think about the consequences, there was not going to be any…

This was just a dream…

He took himself off of you, and immediately you felt his seed dripping out of you.

He chuckled darkly, with one of his fingers, he collected it and pushed back inside you, with your moan resounding all over your room

“You are mine now”, he demanded

Sleep was taking you, you were exhausted…

And Jace only hoped this was enough to breed you, not like he didn’t want to have you more times…

But the sooner the better…

Right?

I'm going to be honest, I was going to cut it right before the smut, and then I thought, I couldn't do that to you all

muahaha

She folded pretty quickly but I mean, who wouldn't?

taglist!

@champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna

#misguidedblurred #jacaerys strong #jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd modern au #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #jace x reader

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funshinebf · 3 months

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this is p much all a traumadump/rant about my mental hospital trip idk. warnings for shitty mental health care practices, as well as discussions of things like intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation, transphobia, and misogyny. we stay silly, u kno how it is

i think my experience with being admitted to a mental hospital like. really really radicalized me when it comes to the mental health systems and knowledge and care here. and how fucking bad and ignorant and dangerous it is for those of us with mental illnesses and disorders. and like. maybe it does help some people! sure! thats great, im happy they can get help from somewhere! but like. for me, being a trans kid with an unsupportive parent as well as unsupportive peers, with debilitating mental illnesses that werent *just* being a little sad about something in school, things that affected every single waking moment of my life and caused me to struggle in sooo many areas that others around me didnt struggle with. i didnt need to draw fucking pictures of houses and learn about meditating or mindfulness in group therapy, sat next to guys who kept misgendering me, and getting served meals i physically could not eat because of my severe disordered picky eating. not to mention no matter how many times i told the food people to please stop deadnaming me to the whole room when they would bring meals, i felt so fucking isolated and ignored there. and the one time i did actually try to share my thoughts during group therapy, i was immediately shot down and dismissed with a response that i still didnt understand. (we were being told to think about our thoughts being who we are. i brought up struggling with intrusive thoughts, and that seeing 'my thoughts as who i am' was fucking terrifying to me, because i had SO many horrible, disgusting, gut wrenching thoughts plaguing me every day, and i so desperately didnt want to be told that those thoughts were Who I Am. i was a kid. i was a scared kid and they told me i just didnt understand what they were trying to say, and that they didnt mean bad thoughts. they also clearly had no fucking clue what intrusive thoughts even were, and made me feel like i was insane for having any kind of violent thoughts. i was very clearly uncomfortable but they continued to ask me to elaborate on what *kind* of scary thoughts i was having. it felt like a trap. i didnt feel safe at all. i felt like if i shared the kinds of intrusive thoughts i struggled with, then they would treat me like i was dangerous for having them, or like i *wanted* to do those things. meanwhile those thoughts made me want to vomit, they made me avoid my loved ones out of fear of acting on the thoughts, they made feel like it would be better if i was dead, because then the people around me would be safe. i was a scared fucking kid)

all of this is to say. the mental health care in america is so fucking abysmal. even just. keeping people who's jobs ARE SPECIFICALLY TO CARE FOR MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE well informed on mental illnesses is apparently too fucking much to ask. i dont feel like im expecting something impossible when i go into a psychiatrist's office thinking that theyll help me, and not. i dunno, tell me i should fucking smile more (this did happen to me. first fucking appointment. older male doctor, 15 year old me getting treatment for SEVERE DEPRESSION.)

anyways. ive ranted enough for now, its nearly 3 am and i need to go read my stories to calm down. (im so mad. i need to go home and touch my husband's tits so i wont be as mad.)

#my post #vent

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swimfuel · 3 years

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okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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ot7always · 4 years

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Fractured (part 3)

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Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut

Warnings: objectification, mentions of sex, guns, knives, murder, and death (non-graphic), mentions of blood (not gory, but it’s there several times), non-serious injury, depictions of mental illness in the form of: nightmares, self-loathing, anxiety

Rating: 18+

Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.

A/N: Part 3 is here! This is going to be the last ‘introductory’ chapter before some more exciting things happen in the series. Let me know what you think!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It was cold.

Damp.

The floor beneath your feet was solid concrete, drops of water littering the floor, having fallen from the pipes above.

You were unarmed. Only a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants – why was this all you were wearing?

The cold air thoroughly chilled your bones, your teeth chattering together in your skull.

“Pay attention, bitch.” Before the voice even completed its sentence, the deafening boom of a gunshot rang through the room, bullet ricocheting off the wall behind you before clattering to the floor.

It was then that you took in your circumstances. You were standing in the middle of a circle of chairs, seated bodies facing you, faces blindfolded. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized.

Seven chairs. Seven men. Bound around you as you were unarmed.

You rose your gaze to meet the eyes of a man you didn’t recognize, his pistol dangling at his side. Despite his laid-back demeanor, his men were behind him, and you knew without a doubt that you would surely die before you could even hope of making it to him.

“Choose.” His voice rang through the room, echoing off the bare stone walls.

You blinked in confusion, glancing at the men seated around you. Why was nobody struggling? Surely there wasn’t a tie in the world that could hold Hoseok, right?

Attempting not to show your anxiety, you cleared your throat. “Choose what?”

“Choose which one of your little boyfriends dies, and the rest of you can go free.”

You couldn’t hide the flash of panic on your face at his words, your gut twisting. “My boyfriends?” You schooled your voice, the carefully crafted cold mask returning to your face. You could only hope to stall until you found a way out of this situation.

“Aw, sweetheart, we both know they wouldn’t keep you around if they couldn’t put their dick in you, don’t we?”

Anger flared in your chest, quickly stamped down as you struggled to maintain neutral features. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin’s angry grimace, his body shifting beneath the ropes. You elected to ignore it, lest you draw unnecessary attention to him.

But it seemed that the man didn’t miss it.

“That one doesn’t like me talking about his slut, does he?” he laughed cruelly, pointing his gun at his direction.

Your heart rate rose exponentially in your chest. “We’re a family. Surely you understand – or do you not understand anything besides fucking?”

Stall. Stall. Stall.

But it appeared he chose to ignore your latter comment. “Oh, is that what they call it nowadays? My apologies, my lady,” he taunted, sending an ugly grin your way.

“Why are we here?” you deadpanned, eager to get on your way.

“You’re very hated out there, my dear,” he sung mockingly. “A certain someone paid me very generously to torment you, and I thought this seemed fun!”

“You’re insane,” you scowled, eyes darting around the room. But it seemed he did his research – there was only one visible entrance, and he was right in front of it. The distance between you and him was too great to get close enough to stand a fighting chance without weapons. Someone would surely die if you tried. If not you, one of the boys.

“Everyone’s insane in this business, sweetheart. Speaking of business, choose. Don’t think you can stall this out like you’ve been trying to do.”

You didn’t bother hiding your scowl. “Can’t I choose myself?”

“What good would that be? We both know dying is easy. Living with blood on your hands is a lot harder, don’t you think?”

He was right – but it didn’t change the fact that you would exchange your life for any of theirs in a heartbeat.

It didn’t seem like there was any way out of this. He wouldn’t really kill someone here – right?

Wrong.

You knew more than anyone how ruthless everyone in the world could be when it came to money.

He could kill all of you if he wanted.

But you were sure he knew that if he tried something too drastic you’d be able to take advantage of his distraction.

He was too smart to do anything besides what he said. And you were too desperate to try anything else.

You took in the sight of the men seated around you, some biting their bottom lip in an attempt to remain quiet. There was absolutely no way you could do this. Wasn’t there any way you could stall this out?

BANG.

You wouldn’t have known exactly what happened if not for Jimin’s loud scream, blood gushing from his shoulder from where the man had skillfully aimed. Wide-eyed, you had to keep yourself from springing towards him, though upon first glance it didn’t look like a deadly wound.

“You don’t have much longer before I get angry. Choose.”

“Hey.”

You only spun around to face everyone surrounding you, the helplessness washing over you, dread rising in your stomach. Was this a joke?

You paused when you spotted Yoongi mouthing something to you. He was sitting opposite the door, his back to the heartless man, who couldn’t see what he was doing. You stared as he moved his lips, trying to make out the words.

‘It’s okay.’

“Y/N!”

You had to stop the tears from rising to the surface. This wasn’t okay, and would never be okay.

“Particularly attached to that one, huh?”

Before you knew it, the gun was pointed to Yoongi’s head, the man’s chuckle punctuated by the pull of the trigger.

You let out an ear-piercing scream at the same time as the bang rung through the room, knees crashing to the concrete beneath you, your eyes too afraid to look up.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes flashed open at hands grasping your shoulders tightly enough to grate against the bone. Panting heavily, you shot your gaze around the room, heartbeat slowing as you took in the sight of Yoongi’s bedroom and not a windowless, concrete building.

“Hey. You’re safe.”

At the sound of a soothing voice, you fully realized the presence of another person as your senses started coming back to you. At his warm tone, you focused your blurry vision on Jimin’s face, blinking away unshed tears. His brow was furrowed, concern clear on his face.

“You were screaming.” When he realized you were fully awake, his grip on you lessened, but his hands remained in place as he took in the fear in your eyes and the trembling of your limbs. “Hey, are you with me?”

You nodded your assurance, closing your eyes to focus on evening out your breathing. “I’m okay,” you mumbled. Physically you knew you were, your body becoming more awake, feeling more under your control by the second. But you were shaken by what you saw, how real it seemed. How realistic it was.

Nobody appreciated the reminder that the people they loved could die at any moment.

Jimin waited patiently as you struggled to pull yourself together. This wasn’t the first time he’d found you like this, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’s witnessed some of your lowest moments, after all. Jimin was arguably the softest and most attentive one in the house – with you guys, anyway. You’d never seen anyone who could flip a switch in the way Jimin did as soon as he stepped out into the field. You admired the way he allowed himself to let loose at home, but could be professional as soon as he stepped outside.

The way he fretted over everyone like a mother hen had endeared you to him since a time before you’d even started kindergarten.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prodded gently once you’d opened your eyes, vision fixed on an empty spot on the wall to avoid his searching gaze.

You quickly shook your head, burying the mess of emotions deep within you, as though acting unbothered would will your anxiety out of existence. Despite receiving the same answer each time over the past few months and years, Jimin never failed to ask the same question. You both loved and hated him for it, to no fault of his own. You simply didn’t feel comfortable laying out all of your thoughts, and the vulnerability that came with it. Not when so much of your sanity relied upon your mask of indifference and focus on work.

Despite your refusal, he eyed you for several more seconds, hesitantly releasing you and seating himself beside you so that your shoulders were touching. In your peripheral vision you caught a glimpse of his conflicted expression. You couldn’t blame him – he did, you assume, come in here because your screaming was audible from the hallway. You would be concerned too, especially in a house where every room was made to be relatively private, sound-wise.

Images of that dream still floated through your mind, the last few seconds before you woke up playing on repeat again, and again, and again.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, hoping to distract Jimin from your sorry state. But it appeared that your question was most definitely not the right way to go about that, because his concern only grew more noticeable.

“Yoongi-hyung...? He’s out tonight, remember? With Seokjinnie-hyung?” He stared at you incredulously.

Right.

You couldn’t believe it had slipped your mind – and neither could Jimin, apparently. His astonishment made sense, though. If there was one person in the house with laser focus on the job, it was probably you. It was easier that way – your work brain didn’t worry so much about what happened in the field.

But that meant you usually kept tabs on what everyone was doing, especially considering what they were doing was related to what you would be doing tomorrow. Especially considering you could barely sleep without knowing every one of them was back home and safe.

“Are you... sure you’re okay?” he asked at your lack of response.

“I’m fine... just wasn’t fully awake, you know?” you deflected, awkward chuckle falling from your lips. You were fine, right? Your mind was just a little bit too preoccupied to remember something. Something very important, and something that you usually never forgot, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But Jimin didn’t seem to think so, the disbelief clear on his face. But before he could open his mouth to say something, you spoke first.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked simply, hugging your knees to your chest, wrapping yourself into a little ball. Of course, you knew the answer already, but a selfish part of you just wanted the reassurance that you weren’t alone in your experiences.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, tone sad. “I think we all do. You’re not alone here.”

“What do you do?”

That seemed to surprise him. The words slipped from you before you could stop them. For lack of better wording – you didn’t tend to initiate conversations about things that really mattered. Things that were important to you personally, things that weren’t surface-level or work-related. Perhaps waking up after an awful dream next to a person rather than your usual empty room brought forth an unusual vulnerability.

He seemed to ponder over a response, taking his time before answering. “I talk about it.” He had decided to answer honestly, cringing inwardly at the answer, knowing how much you avoided talking about your problems with anyone.

You deflated almost imperceptively at his answer, though you were sure he noticed. You didn’t know what you were expecting, and didn’t know why you were disappointed. Did you really think Jimin would have some secret to help you?

No – he just wasn’t a coward like you were.

“Y/N, I know things are a lot harder for you than everyone else-”

“They’re not,” you interjected.

“They are. Everyone else grew up knowing what this house was from birth. But you? They let you become a person and then forcefully replaced you with another version of yourself later. Us? This is all we ever were.” There was a trace of bitterness in his tone, one you chose not to comment on. “I don’t know why they waited so long to tell you. Maybe that’s the reason you’re so-”

He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence, grimacing slightly at his uncontrolled babbling.

But it didn’t take a genius to understand where he was going with that thought.

“So what?” Fucked up? Broken? You weren’t sure you wanted to know what he was going to finish that sentence with.

“Never mind,” he sighed, taking a deep breath before changing the subject. “I was supposed to come get you anyway. Yoongi-hyung told me to make you eat once you woke up.”

“He told you to make me eat?” you mumbled, slightly affronted, but amused nonetheless. Your comment seemed to break the tension in the room, Jimin breathing a laugh at your reaction.

“You know how he is,” he grinned. “But anyway, come join us. Taehyungie is downstairs waiting for me already. Said he wants to watch The Office or something.”

You knew you should eat something, but you really didn’t have much of an appetite after everything. Perhaps being punched in the gut and then dreaming of your family’s death by your hand will do that.

Noticing your hesitation, however, Jimin piped back up. “Please? I think it would help. For me?”

You knew you were helpless the moment he fixed his pleading stare onto your face. Nobody could ever deny that man anything, and you were more than certain he knew that. You were lucky he wasn’t using his powers for worse things than convincing someone who needs food that they need to eat.

Rather than respond, you simply let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending you didn’t know that he was definitely correct. Besides, if there was anyone who could take your mind off things, it was definitely Jimin and Taehyung. On their own you’d almost mistake them for any other 20-something year old, but together they were their own brand of chaos. Chaos that never failed to brighten the mood.

You made to hop off the bed, planning on throwing out an “if I have to” once you did, but it appeared that you’d been so focused on your mental state that your physical one completely slipped your mind.

Not expecting your legs to be so weak, you lost your balance almost immediately, saved from an embarrassing potential fall by Jimin’s quick reflexes. He stood beside you, a hand on your shoulder, luckily not fussing over you too much.

“Hm, Jungkookie didn’t tell me he messed you up that much,” he teased, though you thought there was an ounce of concern somewhere in there.

You scoffed. “I’m fine, I just forgot how sore I was.” You shrugged off his hand, taking a few pained steps towards the door, hiding a grimace at the scream of your muscles. “And Jungkook did not do this to me, by the way,” you added, unwilling to let Jimin prance around the house thinking Jungkook was able to beat the living shit out of you. Even if it was partially true.

As amusing at it was to watch you unintentionally walk around like a newborn lamb, Jimin couldn’t help his wince at the sight. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Let’s go eat, Jimin.”

As expected, dinner and sitcoms with the Chaos Pair (as you and Hoseok liked to fondly refer to them) did wonders to improve your mood. Seokjin had so kindly made some sort of stir-fry before leaving with Yoongi, meaning all you three had to do was warm up some food before settling down on the couch.

But that was several hours ago. It had to be past midnight, and you knew what Yoongi and Seokjin needed to do tonight wasn’t something that should have taken too long. In fact, scouting out the meeting place for tomorrow shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour or an hour at most – any longer and getting seen was too risky.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander, wondering what could have held them up so much. Surely nothing could have happened, especially when the plan for today wasn’t even that dangerous – right?

Captured within your own thoughts, not absorbing what was on the screen, the transition to the ending credits snapped you out of it. You spoke out before Taehyung could click the next episode button for the nth time that night.

“Hey... do you guys know what’s happening with Yoongi and Jin?” You tried to make the question sound casual and nonchalant, but each of the boys were well-versed in your worry any time work didn’t go according to plan – especially when you were at home while others were out. It was a silent but well-known fact that you were almost always the last to bed on mission days, your body only relaxing enough to sleep once you knew everyone was home safe.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Y/N,” Jimin was quick to reassure you from the opposite end of the couch. “Coming back late isn’t that strange here, you know.”

“Right. This is Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung we’re talking about here, remember?” Taehyung added, slinging an arm around your shoulder from his place beside you. “Besides, Yoongi-hyung is a master at doing stuff quickly and quietly. I bet they were done in like 20 minutes and they’re out eating or something.”

“Without any update?” you replied, skepticism clear in your tone. “Not even an ‘all done, see you guys later,’ nothing?”

“Just think about it this way, Y/N,” said Jimin, matter-of-factly. “Even if something went wrong, isn’t it better to have no news at all than for us to know something?”

As much as you wanted to argue the nuances of that statement, you knew in general, he was right. If they were captured, you’re sure Namjoon would have heard something about it by now. People were too impatient in this line of work to wait before leveraging whatever bargaining chip they had – especially when it wouldn’t be unheard of for them to lose their chance before it could be used. And if they were killed? News of such a thing would have spread even faster, considering their status as the two oldest sons.

Jimin was right, in a way – you could be fairly confident that whatever was happening, they were at least alive.

But that didn’t stop you from worrying. Some things were worse than death.

“You’re right, I guess,” you conceded, though you certainly didn’t sound happy about it.

When nobody made to speak further, Taehyung hit play, and you tried your best to focus on the show.

And you did. For another hour, with no word from anyone, and still no Yoongi or Seokjin in the house.

As much as you wanted so badly to call them and demand what was taking up their time, you already knew such a thing wasn’t possible. You knew that by now, if they had time, they would have called you already.

All there was left to do was wait, and you were not a patient person.

You didn’t even realize how much you were fidgeting until Taehyung reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder, the other moving to pause the episode.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry so much, they’ll be fine. I think you should sleep.”

“You should,” Jimin agreed. “Don’t you guys have to leave early tomorrow?”

You made a noncommittal noise in response. As much as your muscles screamed with exhaustion, as much as your mind probably needed rest, you knew you wouldn’t be capable of sleep. Not when the last time you’d slept wrought you so much terror, and definitely not before everyone was accounted for.

But you couldn’t focus on the show, and as much as you loved them, you didn’t think you could sit there any longer and hear the same reassurances from Jimin and Taehyung. It wasn’t their fault – you knew they wanted you to feel some peace of mind, but there was only so much that could be said when dealing with very real danger. And at the same time, you felt bad for making them fuss over you.

“I think... I think I’m going to head upstairs. Sorry I couldn’t be very good company,” you said, wincing as you stood supporting your own weight, the dull pain in your abdomen and calves protesting.

They were quick to claim otherwise, each of them reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. As you made your way to the staircase, you could hear their quiet whispers from the couch, though you couldn’t make out their words. You would bet that they were probably discussing Yoongi and Seokjin’s absence, too considerate to worry you further while you were still there.

When you reached the landing upstairs, you were fully planning to head to your own room, lounging in bed, phone in hand until either the boys came home or you passed out from sheer exhaustion. But this late at night, you didn’t expect to see the strip of light coming from beneath Namjoon’s door. Perhaps distracting yourself with work would be your best bet to shift your focus.

You were knocking on his door before you were even fully aware you’d made the decision, entering when a tired voice called for you to come in.

When he saw it was you, he gave you a kind smile from where he was seated at his desk, though the fatigue in it was clear. But you supposed you weren’t one to talk.

“Everything okay?” he asked easily, spinning around on his clear until he was facing you fully. On his desk you could see almost a dozen open folders, sheets scattered around – work-related, no doubt. You were positive there was some kind of method to the madness, though. This was Namjoon, after all.

Though he liked to deny it, Namjoon was something of the leader in the house now that everyone’s parents no longer lived there full-time. Like true important individuals, they lived off in vacation homes now that their children were fully grown and fully capable of doing every bit of dirty work for them. They stopped by sometimes since much of the important technology (read: weapons) and paperwork were here, but for the most part, once night fell you guys were on your own. Not that the 8 of you really had any say in what you’d be doing despite being mostly alone – you were independent in name only, and you didn’t doubt that the parents were keeping tabs on everyone anyway. Namjoon’s father proved that earlier.

Being the son of the head of the entire “operation,” most communications came to Namjoon to relay to the rest of you. Despite never volunteering for such a thing, his father liked to work him to the bone. In watching their interactions, you’d hardly be able to tell they were family – Namjoon’s father treated him more as a servant than anything. As much as he claimed he didn’t mind, the work definitely took a toll on him. The fact that he was alone in his room working at what must be around 3 am was evidence enough.

“I was hoping to talk to you about tomorrow...” you began unsurely. “But if you’re busy, it’s fine. It’s not that important anyway.”

You hated to intrude and ask him to talk about work when he was already clearly so swamped, but in all likelihood what he was doing was about your next task anyway.

“Actually, it’s good that you’re here. I think if I look at these papers any longer, I’m gonna go insane. Talking has always been better for me, anyway,” he replied, and you visibly perked up at the realization that your presence was desired rather than simply tolerated.

“All that stuff is about tomorrow?” you questioned, making your way over to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Now that you were closer, you could see that the papers flooding his desk were some combination of floor plans, building sketches, and walls of text that looked much too small to read even if it were right in front of you.

“Right. Everything had already been mapped out already, but my father sent me these about an hour ago saying the first set they gave me was wrong.” He huffed a bit in annoyance at that, before continuing on. “So, I’ve mostly just been double checking whether it changes anything. I think we should be okay, but better safe than sorry, right?” he chuckled humorlessly, a hand raising to pass mindlessly through his hair.

“Lay it on me, Joon,” you grinned, forcing enthusiasm into your voice in the hopes that you could at least make him feel a bit better. It was, after all, much easier to help others than to help yourself. You leaned back on your hands, giving him your full attention.

“You read through everything I sent you already, right?” he inquired, despite knowing that the obvious answer was yes, considering you’d have to set out only hours later.

When you nodded your assent, he continued.

“So you know that this isn’t too complicated of a mission – a go in, talk, come back out type of thing. We’re already at a temporary peace with their family, so you and Jungkook will be there as assurance that they can’t just shoot me dead.”

“Uh huh. So what’s changed?”

“Pretty much just the map of the warehouse we’re going to. The windows are placed differently than we originally thought, and apparently there might be some sort of back door. Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung were supposed to confirm those details, but...” he trailed off, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip betraying his worry. But when he saw your face fall at the mention, he carried on.

“In theory, all we have to do is be a bit more aware when we get there, keep an eye out, especially for that other entrance. But I’ve mostly been thinking about what could go wrong with the added unknowns, especially if someone tried to throw us off intentionally-”

His voice was cut off abruptly by a loud bang from downstairs, followed by voices. You were up on your feet in an instant, out the bedroom door before you could even check whether Namjoon was following. Any semblance of pain was forgotten as you bounded downstairs at a speed that was probably unsafe, skidding to a stop when Yoongi and Seokjin came into view.

Your eyes scanning them over quickly, at first you thought nothing of it as you came closer. They looked ragged and tired, hair sticking to their foreheads, clothes dirty. If you didn’t notice the movement of Yoongi’s hand twitching against his abdomen, you would have gone straight into questioning them about their whereabouts for the past four hours.

But you did notice it, and your eyes zeroed in on the fact that his hand was, very faintly, stained with red. After that, any restraint you might have shown was gone in an instant.

“What happened to you?!” you exclaimed, closing the distance between you faster than they could think to move or respond. Pulling Yoongi’s hand away from his body with one of your own, the other yanked his shirt up before he could protest. There was no such thing as decency in this house when the other person was bleeding.

“Y/N-” Yoongi began in a tone that was definitely about to tell you to calm down.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me!” you huffed, holding his shirt up and away from his wound. Luckily, it didn’t look too bad, and wasn’t bleeding all that much. The sight calmed you somewhat, relieved by the fact that this was something that would be incredibly easy to recover from. But that didn’t mean you’d forgotten that he shouldn’t have even been injured in the first place. “Start talking, Seokjin.”

You saw him cringe a bit in the corner of your eye. He was almost never ‘Seokjin’ to you – it was clear to him that you were angry, even if it wasn’t necessarily at him.

He took a deep breath before starting. “We-”

“Hyung?” came Namjoon’s voice from behind you, and a quick glance showed that Jimin and Taehyung were right on his heel. “What happened?”

You could hear Seokjin wind himself up to start again, but a sharp sigh from Yoongi cut him off once again. “Can’t we sit for this?” Yoongi grumbled, irritation lacing his tone. The presence of not one, but four people fussing over him at the same time left him seemingly annoyed.

Instead of speaking, you begun to tug him in the direction of the kitchen table where you’d all be able to speak properly. If he wasn’t injured might have been comedic to see a grumpy Yoongi being led through the house by your grip on his shirt, but those nearby were too concerned to say anything. If you were anybody else he probably would have cussed you out by now – you were the only person here who would try such a thing nowadays.

When you reached the closest chair you pushed him down into it, taking his hand and forcing him to hold up his own shirt. “Hold that there,” you demanded, no-nonsense tone leaving no room for disagreement.

By the time you returned with clean hands and a first aid kit, everyone else was already seated, waiting for your arrival to get into the story.

You crouched on the floor next to where Yoongi was seated, pulling out supplies as Seokjin began. You listened intently to Seokjin’s explanation about arriving at the warehouse, parking in an alley and keeping an eye out from afar while Yoongi went around the building on his own.

“I was surveying as planned, but when I got around to the back I ran into – agh, fuck,” Yoongi grunted when you wiped at his wound with antiseptic, paying no mind to the fact that he was mid-sentence. “Ran into a guy with a mask on who pulled a knife on me,” he finished through gritted teeth, muscles tensing as you cleaned the blood away until you could properly see what you were working with.

You hadn’t fully relaxed until you’d reached that point. When the mess of dry blood was gone, it was clear that despite the cut being long, it didn’t seem deep enough to need stitches. So long as it didn’t get infected, it likely wouldn’t even scar. The fact that it wasn’t bleeding anymore was a good sign, though you cringed at how long he must have gone around with it like this.

You listened to Seokjin detail how Yoongi ended up coming back to the car far earlier than expected, and how whoever was there had chased them down. As you listened to how they’d had to drive around for hours to ensure they really lost them before returning home, you worked on dressing the wound. You pulled the gauze snugly around his narrow waist, pausing when he gave a quiet grunt.

“Too tight?” you asked quietly, searching his face.

“It’s fine. I could’ve done this myself, you know,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to accept help?”

Despite his lack of verbal response, his sigh was enough to signify his resignation as the point you’d made.

You hardly registered Namjoon leaving the table to call his father, more focused on the task in front of you. When you finally secured the gauze with tape, you leaned back to examine your handiwork. It wasn’t your best, and certainly nowhere near as neat as Jin would have made it, but it would do. Before you could move away, however, Yoongi’s hand rose to rub affectionately at your head.

“Thanks,” he cracked a smile at you, grin widening when you batted his blood-stained hand away with a barely-disguised look of disgust.

Rather than ream him out for dirtying your hair, an unreadable look spread over your face. “I was worried about you.”

As much as you’d tried to erase the image from your memory over the course of the last few hours, it wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. It was irrational to think that your nightmares had any relation to what occurred in reality, but fear didn’t have to be rational.

It must have been obvious that something was troubling you more than the fact that they’d arrived home late and injured. There was no other reason for you to be staring into nothing, face screwed up into an expression that looked something like pain.

“Did something happen?” he asked simply, reaching for your hand and pulling it into his grasp when you didn’t resist. That you let his dirt and blood-crusted hand anywhere near your body without complaint was concerning in and of itself.

“No...” you said unsurely, gaze fixing onto the floor, shaking your head as though to dispel the image from your mind. “Not really.”

You heard an intake of breath as though he was about to protest, but Namjoon’s hurried footsteps returning to the table distracted you both. As you caught the troubled expression on Namjoon’s face, you rose to take a proper place at the table, beside Seokjin and Yoongi and across from Jimin and Taehyung.

Namjoon took a seat at the head of the table where everyone could see him, and the sight of his clear distress, hands running over his face, had you unsettled immediately.

“What’s wrong?” you asked hurriedly, business face on immediately.

“My father had someone look into who attacked you at the warehouse and chased you afterwards. The footage from the warehouse wasn’t clear, but based on street cams and red-light cams...” he took a deep breath, grimacing before his next statement. “It was Lee Taemin.”

The speed at which your brows shot up was impressive.

Lee Taemin.

The man who you were supposed to meet up with tomorrow. The man whose family supposedly had a partnership with yours.

“Excuse me?” came Seokjin’s bewildered voice.

“Lee Taemin attacked you? He had to have known it was you, after however long he chased you,” said Jimin.

You gripped the edge of the table harshly, nails digging into the surface. This wasn’t something to be taken lightly – in fact, you were surprised they had the nerve to double-cross Bangtan.

Were the changes Namjoon was looking at earlier a result of their meddling? What would have happened tomorrow if you’d shown up according to plan? What would have awaited you there?

“There’s no way three of us can just walk in there tomorrow,” you said through gritted teeth, fury rising the longer you thought about how close to disaster you’d come because of their betrayal. How had they managed to keep it all secret? Surely whispers should have made it to you by now.

Unless he was acting alone?

Nothing made sense.

“We won’t be going to the warehouse tomorrow,” Namjoon stated, though the resignation in his tone sent a shot of confusion through you. He didn’t seem very happy about that fact, despite the risks being massive.

“And you’re upset about that, because...?” you prodded, sensing something else laying beneath that statement.

“We’ll be going to a party tomorrow night instead.”

Tagging: @shere-khan-the-lizard @wwilloww @propinqxity

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neriad13 · 3 years

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Favorite Media of 2020!

There was a large swathe of this year during which I was unable to concentrate on reading (as there probably was for a lot of other typically-frequent readers), so, as a result, I ended up listening to way more podcasts and watching way more TV shows. Not a bad thing, but boy did I read way less books than usual.

However, for the first time in a while, the amount of fiction I read was about equal with the amount of nonfiction I read. Last year’s reading resolution was to read more fiction, so...success??

I did read a lot of phenomenal fiction when I had the energy to do so this year.

Books - Fiction

The Martian - Andy Weir

This book is the hardest of the hard sci fi I think I’ve ever read. Every single aspect of it is minutely researched and calculated. The author literally wrote equations to write this book. The science is insanely impressive and yet...it never loses its sense of humor or humanity in the mix. In fact, they’re the thing that drives the entire story.

Warlock Holmes - G. S. Denning

Way early in the year I was strolling down the fantasy aisle at the library, when this cover caught my eye. I took one look at it, went “oh, this looks silly” and...proceeded to devour the entire series in a matter of weeks.

It is very silly. Especially when it’s pointing out something that was silly in the original. There’s something so satisfying about Watson immediately answering Holmes with the correct number of steps in their flat when he’s trying to make his point about how most people don’t pay attention to things like that.

World War Z - Max Brooks

Every single scenario in here could easily support an entire book. A park ranger whose job it is to contain the yearly zombie spring thaw? HECK YES. I’d read tens of thousands of words about that. A Chinese admiral who defaults, steals the government’s premier submarine, loads it up with the families of his underlings and takes to the sea for years to live in the maritime economy that has sprung up in a world where everyone is trying to escape the shore? That could be an entire movie on its own.

Every chapter was more creative than the last and as a huge worldbuilding fan, this book was so, so fun.

An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

In which a queer, neurodivergent protagonist solves a mystery on a spaceship which is a microcosm of antebellum era politics! This had a beautiful, mysterious, wonder-inducing writing style and it was a joy to peer into the wildly differing minds of every single character.

Books - Nonfiction

Underland - Robert MacFarlane

In every chapter, the author visits a different hole. Basically.

It’s an exploration of caves, catacombs, mines, nuclear waste facilities and the hidden underbelly of every forest. It was fascinating. And fundamentally changed how I look at time.

Rejected Princesses - Jason Porath

After years of having enjoyed the web entries, I finally got my hands on the first book and was not disappointed.

There are the more entertaining entries, of course and the art is as charming as always, but what struck me the most were the more difficult stories. The deeper you go into this book, the more horrific it gets. The author does not hold back on the indignities suffered by the historical figures he writes about. It’s terrible...but also very, very illuminating.

The Gift of Fear - Gavin De Becker

This book - while maintaining all the essential information in it - could be pared down to one sentence in a sea of blank pages and that sentence would be: trust your instincts. End of story.

But in a world where instincts are either customarily suppressed or going haywire, it’s not quite that easy, which is why I’m glad there is more to the book.

I picked it up thinking “ha ha, betcha can’t help a person with anxiety who fears all the time already” and...what it actually ended up doing was giving me the tools to differentiate between real fear and unfounded fear. And did help with the anxiety quite a bit.

Fanfiction

Watch Over Me - cakeisatruth

A Bioshock fic from the point of view of a little sister who is learning how to trust and be an ordinary child again. Dark and sweet. An excellent combo.

All That is Visible - Ultima_Thule

An exploration of a minor character in a well researched historical context? That’s my jam! How did they know?? A Tron fic about what it’s like to be a female programmer in the 70s.

Graphic Novels

The Adventure Zone - McElroys + Carey Pietsch

Yesssssssss! It was a running-to-the-library type event whenever my library got a new volume in. The jokes are so good, the art is so lively and the ways in which they added the details that the podcast couldn’t necessarily get across is *mwah*

Trail of Blood - Shuuzou Oshimi

Hoooooooly shit, the art style of this one!! It’s beautifully detailed and expressive, sure, but the real draw for me was how it changes with the emotional state of the main character. There’s this sequence in which he’s consumed with anxiety at school and all of his classmates become blurry and unfocused, until they can’t be recognized as humans at all, that particularly sticks with me.

It’s a horror story about a kid who witnesses his loving mother push his cousin off a cliff for seemingly no reason and is then obligated by her to keep the secret, which is eating him from the inside out. It’s so good, guys, please read it.

Level Up - Gene Lien Yang/Thien Pham

A story about a kid who is haunted by his late father’s desire for him to become a gastroenterologist. It’s funny and touching and the ending gave me what I can only describe as a feeling of exhilaration. Y’know that feeling when something unexpected but not out of left field, perfectly in tune with the narrative arc and gut bustingly funny happens, all in the same panel? That one.

Film

Searching

This is a fairly standard thriller about a dad trying to find out what happened to his missing daughter. It’s also found footage...but not in the usual way, which was what made it so compelling to me. It’s told through the dad’s phone calls, google searches, social media interactions, news footage, security cameras and webcams. It was such a cool way to tell a story.

Train to Busan

There’s a lot that’s already been said about this movie and I don’t think there’s much more I can meaningfully add to that. Suffice to say that ya gotta take care of each other if you’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

TV Series

My Brother’s Husband

As close to a perfect adaptation as a person can get (barring the entire conversation in English which was...oof). I was so happy when they took it a step further and showed Kana and Yaichi actually getting to meet Mike’s family.

Zumbo’s Just Desserts

I watched a lot of baking shows this year. Like...a lot. They were my much-needed comfort viewing for the year and this one was my favorite, even over The Great British Baking Show (which I LOVE). Why? Because the pastry chef for whom it’s named makes such bizarre and wonderful desserts and fosters an environment in which the competitors do the same. I’ve never seen anything like a lot of the desserts that make an appearance on this show. Every single episode was an awesome surprise and so help me, this show had better get a third season.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

There’s also a lot that’s been said about this one, so I won’t say much more. Suffice to say: DAMN. That’s how you do an 80s toy tie-in cartoon remake.

Infinity Train

This show’s premise is probably the most unique I’ve seen in recent years. Its balance of comedy, horror and existential dread is also *mwah* I also love how much it trusts the viewer to figure things out on their own.

Primal

A late entry sliding in before the year ends! I finally got to watch the second half of the first season last weekend and it was EXCELLENT. The pacing, the brutal fight scenes, the adorable dinosaur antics, the animation, the quiet moments - *mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah*

The most emotional moment for me was the part in which the protagonists watch, with sorrow, as the rabid dinosaur who’s been trying to kill them all night dies an excruciating death.

Also it sets up a fascinating new plotline right before ending in a cliffhanger!! Another one for the ‘had better get a next season’ list.

Games

Night in the Woods

This is one that’s been on my to play list for a few years and I was so glad I finally got my hands on it. It’s like...The Millennial Experience (TM), the game. I felt so seen, playing it. The character writing was fantastic.

Prey

I don’t know why I put off finishing this for so long. I guess I wasn’t in the right alien killing headspace for a while?? Anyway, the setting is gorgeous, the alien biology is weird and cool, the ethics are delightfully murky and the interconnectedness of the station was really cool, especially in the OH SHIT moments at the end.

Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

I tried to narrow this down to one favorite arc, but found that I couldn’t do it. I love Balance for its comedy and creative energy. I love Amnesty for its drama and acting. I am loving Graduation for the depth of its world and the way in which the real story behind everything that’s happened is slowly unfurling. It’s a good podcast all around.

The Magnus Archives

Who obsessively listened to every single season while playing Minecraft in about a month? Surely not me, nooooo. Of course not.

There’s also been a lot said on this one, so I’ll keep it brief. I’ve seen things in here that I haven’t really seen elsewhere in horror. My particular favorites were the creepy psychiatric hospital in which the horror comes not from the patients, but from the denial of the doctor to believe them about their mental illnesses and every single thing related to the Anthropocene. The one with the Amazonian village made out of trash - CHILLS.

#tma #taz #prey 2017 #night in the woods #infinity train #warlock holmes #she-ra #zumbo's just desserts #a thought

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asgardianthot · 4 years

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Hunting Season (sambucky) - Part 4

Series Masterlist

A/N: ello :) I hope you’re all safe and sound, and I hope you’re surviving quarantine. Here’s an angsty update for you to enjoy!

Words: 3329

Day 3.

The morning had prepared for the happy couple an hour of kayaking. Bucky got his tired ass to the lake with the least amount of motivation possible, for he had spent a sore night. The idea of Brock Rumlow spending the night in that house had his bones rattling. Sam, on his part, couldn’t blame him; Brock only stayed there when the two were an item, so the fact that he was tagging along indefinitely had ‘ill intentioned’ written all over it. Bucky’s theory was that Brock probably thought he was gonna crash the lunch party and win him over again, stay the night at their old bed instead of a small guest room downstairs.

On the bright side of matters, Sam and Bucky were still the only ones to have a hunting clue. The envelope that had fallen out of the Viktor Frankl book had a hand-written note, specifically placed there by Nana. It read as following: If you found this clue, congratulations, you have a brain. Frankl was more than just a man in search for meaning: he was a neurologist and a psychiatrist, as well as a philosopher. It’s not hard to guess why my husband was obsessed with him. Now find out more about the author and try to guess what else he and Theodore had in common. You’ll know where to look.

Those words meant absolutely nothing to Sam, but it made some sense to Bucky. All they had to do was research about the author of the book and find a connection, for now. The rest would be a problem for later.

Right now, meaning at that very exact moment, Sam’s problem was kayaking.

“Okay, so what now?” he asked Bucky, holding the paddles like they were going to hurt him.

The second the word ‘kayak’ had been brought up when discussing future activities, Sam knew he would make a fool out of himself, for it was something he had never done, while the rest of the guests had been practicing every summer since they bought the damn house. Still, he put on his swimsuit and showed up. For Bucky. They were the ones closest to the lakeside, as Bucky was still teaching Sam, meanwhile the other Barnes were already paddling away or messing around in circles, as they prepared for a race.

“Now, you kayak.” Bucky replied simply, which earned a death glance from Sam.

He was already having enough trouble adjusting to the new sport, which left him with little to no patience. Fortunately, Bucky pitied him and laughed as he moved to the front seat, agreeing to help.

“Okay, wait,” he grunted as he struggled to accommodate behind Sam, “let me help you.”

Sam felt the warm pressure of Bucky’s chest against his back without any type of warning, and flinched a little. He could feel the drops of water that hadn’t dried out in Bucky’s skin stick to his own, and it sent shivers down his spine. He decided to believe the shivers were caused by the startling feeling of water droplets.

“You’re holding it wrong.” James explained as he took the paddles from Sam’s hand.

Wilson rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”

“Someone’s cranky.” Bucky remarked, “Didn’t sleep well?”

Sam thought hard about that one. As a matter of fact, he had woken up plenty of times during the night, only to find Bucky struggling to catch his own sleep next to him. The situation was weird as it was, so Sam pretended to miss it.

“You kick your feet a lot.” Sam lied.

“There’s always the divan.” Bucky reminded him.

“Will you shut up about the damn divan? No one should sleep in anything called like that.”

However, the ridiculous discussion came to an end when Bucky managed to get Sam to paddle correctly.

“That’s about the hang of it.” he congratulated him before turning his body and dropping it into the water.

The water barely reached his chest, so he stood there in waits for Sam who accomplished his goal of successfully kayaking away.

“Now come back to me.” Bucky instructed his apprentice, “Turn.”

Watching him swirl the canoe so concentrated, Bucky couldn’t help but find him slightly adorable. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen Sam learn something like that before, but it definitely was a good look on him. A smile creeped up his face, however, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, his ears picked up on a conversation behind him. He saw that uncle Milo was talking to Brock, and he only then figured they probably had been the entire time, which made him feel observed and, most of all, uncomfortable. Bucky was so distracted by the interaction that he almost didn’t see Sam returning to him, but he noticed right on time to stop the tip of the kayak before it hit him.

He shook it off by shooting a smile in Nana’s direction.

“Sure you don’t wanna hop in the water, Nana?” he messed with the woman who looked over everyone from her chair.

“I want another drink, sweetheart.” She messed with him back.

Bucky winked at her and returned his attention to the fake boyfriend, who seemed a lot more comfortable with the sport. They most likely wouldn’t win the race, but at least Sam wouldn’t feel bad for sucking at it.

“You know what?” Nana’s voice was loud and clear this time, which got everyone’s attention, “First one to get me a drink gets a clue."

The bold statement was followed by hesitant glances. Most of the family exchanged weird looks, none of them sure of how to proceed.

"Is she for real?" Bucky said, frowning.

Then, cousin Colin jumped to the water from where he was paddling, and started swimming towards land. Rebecca went second. Bucky and Sam were quick to notice how they were the ones closest to the lakeside, which didn’t make it seem like Nana was unbiased. If anything, it made the couple look like the favorites. Alas, Bucky and Sam climbed onto land fast, hearing people rush across the water behind them, until they heard a scream.

As they both turned towards the noise, they saw Rebecca slapping her hand around, swallowing water, and barely managing to yell the word ‘cramp’.

Bucky dove back on the water to save her. Literally. As Sam awaited kneeling on the shore, he couldn’t help but notice nobody else went to help. As usual, Bucky was Rebecca’s knight in shining armor.

"Rebecca, are you ok?" Winnifred barely asked above her usual tone to be heard.

The siblings were too busy trying to stay afloat –Bucky dragging her to land and Rebecca coughing her lungs out– to answer, so the mother insisted.

"Rebecca?"

Luckily, Sam cut in to get the unhelpful and mediocre concern away from the scene, "She- she's fine! We got this!" he assured the woman.

Once the siblings reached the wooden shore, Sam pulled Rebecca up by her arms while Bucky climbed up, panting. The young woman held her leg in pain.

Right on time, Brock approached them to save the day.

He extended his hand towards Rebecca, "Here, let me-"

"Get the fuck away from us!" James shot him an aggressive warning while placing a hand on Rebecca's back, not dignifying the man with eye contact.

Rumlow raised his hands in defense, "Just tryna’ help, Jamie."

The snap in Bucky’s brain might as well have been hearable. He was so done with the hovering figure he used to call his partner, everything in his head went red with fury. He looked up at him with such rage, Sam anticipated his outburst even before it happened.

"Shut up, Brock, shut up!” He yelled directly at him, microscopic bits of spit being thrown in Brock’s direction, and followed by a uncomfortable, still silence, which Bucky couldn’t stand either, “Are you deaf or are you a fucking idiot? I said leave!"

Rumlow accepted the offense and shook his head, putting on a disappointed façade.

"You're insane." He informed Bucky before turning on his heels.

As the man walked back inside the house, the spectators of the show remained silent. All that could be heard was Bucky’s heavy breathing, until Rebecca spoke.

"Way to go, brother." She whispered, which was only heard by Sam and Bucky.

Bucky’s expression revealed how shocked he was at his own courage to pull off such a stunt.

"That felt so good." He admitted, drawing a big proud smile on Sam’s face.

The outburst that morning, no matter how fulfilling, had taken a toll on Bucky. The rest of the day, it was all he could think about, and therefore, it naturally got the paranoid spinning wheel in his brain running at full speed. Cousin Colin, after the lake scene, was the only person insensitive enough to actually go through with Nana’s demand; the man had brought his grandmother a nice summer drink from the kitchen, which the lady received with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, she had promised the deliverer a clue, so she reluctantly kept her word and gave him the help in private.

It didn’t necessarily worry Bucky nor Sam, because the couple still felt they were winning so far. They had found the first clue by themselves, no help needed, so the best Colin could do was keep up with them before they got the advantage again.

No, what had them both worried was this cocktail gathering after dinner, right now. It was too early for anyone to be tired enough to go to bed, but it was late enough for people to start making bad decisions. That had been Bucky’s case. Drink after drink, worry after worry, the liquor had found its way into Bucky’s system long ago. In fact, he was sitting down, resigned to his sorrow, with a glass of champaign in hand.

He was wasted, and Sam could tell. While Bucky played around with the almost emptied glass, Sam’s chest felt heavy.

"He's watching." Bucky suddenly said, his enunciation already affected by the booze.

His eyes were fixated somewhere in the room, over Sam’s shoulder. The latter didn’t need to turn around to know who he meant.

"Don't pay attention to him." He shrugged it off.

"He used to do that,” Bucky, however, acted as if Sam hadn’t even spoken, “when he didn't approve of something."

"Hey.” Sam called, demanding his attention, “Hey, look at me. I'm here with you, okay? Not him."

As much as Bucky wanted to lean into those words, embrace the support and such, he knew it wasn’t truly real. Sam was there to help him out of pity, or so he thought. He used to love imagining having a boyfriend who would take away the pain, wipe away the tears caused by Brock. He used to like that image, but sometime in the horrible long-lasting relationship, he just didn’t think it possible. Anyone loving him after Brock? Anyone putting up with that baggage, with the lurking ex-boyfriend watching them at all times?

It simply wouldn’t happen. It’s why he wasn’t there with an actual boyfriend. It’s why he had to play-pretend with Sam. In his head, there was no place for anyone to love him. Not after he’d been chewed on by Rumlow and spat out a hundred times.

"But you're not.” Bucky sad dryly, almost insulting, “Not really. I'll never get the real thing."

Sam’s brain had a hard time with that one confession. Did Bucky mean that getting his friend to play fake boo was the closest he'd ever get to a boyfriend from now on? Or as he implying a world where Sam could have become the real deal? His confusion left him almost speechless.

"And why is that?" he managed to ask with a heavy heart.

Bucky was too quick in answering Sam’s doubts, "Cause I'm messed up. 'Cause of him."

That being declared, James stood up from the table, leaving his company sitting there by himself, rudely. Sam watched him get to the bar, which consisted of a few tables set up for drink service, attended by one of Nana’s kitchen employees. It did the trick in looking fancy enough for an improvised bar, and still, Bucky managed to look fairly pathetic, leaning on the table and ordering yet another hard liquor.

For the next half hour, Sam brought himself to chat and interact with the Barnes, but mostly, he was checking up on Bucky every other minute. Fortunately so, since it allowed him to spot Rumlow as he approached the drunk figure. Wilson excused himself and headed straight for the bar, and was noticed by the man who looked, as usual, like he was up to no good.

"Samuel, we were just talking about you." Brock greeted him cynically.

"Leave him alone." Sam said, not messing around.

Bucky’s eyes were fixated on his drink, avoiding exchanging gazes with his ex, no matter how hard Brock tried to catch his attention.

"I don't think anyone should leave him alone like this." Rumlow cocked a brow, giving off the most pedantic posture yet.

As much as Sam didn’t wish to sound just as condescending as the ex-boyfriend, he needed him to back off. So he stood his ground, planting himself in front of Bucky, and raised his chin.

"Oh, goodie, that's what I'm here for." He clarified with a taunting tone.

All of a sudden, Bucky decided to stand his ground as well. Unhappy with the exchange of words about his state, he got himself in front of Sam, stumbling a bit.

"I don't- don't need anyone to look after me." He managed to croak out, frowning.

After he delivered the words, he propped himself on the table unsteadily, causing Sam to gesture catching him, but Bucky seemed to be partially alright on his own. Brock, on his part, gave him a deeply disappointed look. Suddenly, Sam understood so much; the paternalistic vibe he gave off, like you’re nothing for yourself and are in desperate need of his aid. The way Rumlow judged people could get anyone to doubt themselves. Luckily, Sam wasn’t giving in.

Brock extended his hand to the more-than-tipsy man, "Come on." He said, more a demand than an offer.

The response was even more abrupt than that morning by the lake. In sight of his hand so near him, Bucky’s paranoia crippled through his bones, provoking a different kind of outburst.

"Don't touch me, you fucking maniac!" he yelled, taking a step back.

Sam’s skin crawled. During the tense silence that followed, he felt eyes staring at them three. Brock, however, didn’t seem nearly as shocked, but instead acted like this was just typical Bucky. He did seem embarrassed, though, being the victim of the scandal for the second time that day.

"Let's go." Sam pleaded, not daring to touch Bucky in a jumpy state like that.

That was Rebecca’s cue for approaching the lot, allured by the fuzz.

"What's going on?" she demanded an explanation in a low, but harsh tone.

"Nothing.” Rumlow spoke before anyone else got the change, “He's making a scene, as usual."

Rebecca shot him a threatening glance, to which he simply rolled his eyes and abandoned the bar area. Sam took his place in order to check up on Bucky’s face, and found his eyes beginning to water. He was frozen in place, eye sockets reddened by the drunkenness and lips caught between his teeth.

"James, get it together.” Rebecca whispered, “Everyone's staring."

Although Sam was expecting more comfort from the man’s sister, whom just so happened to be scolding him for no reason, he kept his quiet this time. The two sober characters dragged Bucky’s body to the nearest chair and forced him to sit down, which only attracted more attention towards him, but that way he could remain still and far from tumbling scandals.

"Get him some coffee before he embarrasses himself even more." Rebecca told Sam, sternly.

As she kneeled sat next to her brother in order to pretend normality, Sam just gave her a look of disbelief. He didn’t think she could act so heartlessly before.

"You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" he threw her a sarcasm dagger, refusing to move.

"Believe it or not, I'm helping him.” She spat, looking around frantically in hopes no one was judging them, “Coffee, Samuel, please."

Sam took one last good look at Bucky before obeying the very persuasive sister. The drunken mess was avoiding all sorts of eye contact, and was almost pouting like a child. Wilson didn’t have much else to do but get himself to the kitchen, although reluctantly. At that moment, he hated everything; every person and light were getting under his skin, and even the sound of glasses clinking together pissed him off. Right before he reached the kitchen, the sound turned muffled, abandoned far away, and there was a sense of peace. Silence. And breaking through that silence, there was a sharp voice.

“I’m telling you, this is our chance.” The voice echoed from inside the kitchen.

It was unmistakably Rumlow’s. Of fucking course. The man was a goddamn ghost lurking around every room of the massive house. Sam was determined on turning back, until he heard another voice responding.

“Give me a few days-“

“I don’t have days to give you.”

It sounded like an altercation that had just recently began, right before it could get too heated.

“Is your lawyer not your personal bitch this time?” the other man accused Brock, “You not screwing him, too?”

“You want the money, right?”

The inciting question was followed by a tense pause. Therefore, Sam seized his chance and walked into the kitchen, hopefully being able to pretend he hadn’t heard any of it. He recognized the other man as uncle Milo, when the two angry men straightened themselves too quickly, in an attempt to dismiss their previous altercation.

Sam gave them an uninterested glance, “Am I interrupting?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What can we do for you, Samuel?” uncle Milo raised his voice with false friendliness.

“I’m just gonna make some coffee.” He replied, waltzing towards the busier side of the kitchen, further away from them.

Before he could even get a hold of the coffee maker, Rumlow’s forceful interruption made Sam stop in his tracks.

“Nicole can take care of that for you, right darling?” he called for the maid in a patronizing tone, “She’ll even pour it for you and everything.”

Sam glanced at the woman who was still putting the dishes away when it definitely was the end of her shift. It wasn’t just about Rumlow’s treatment of the staff, it was everything, from the way he put Sam in an uncomfortable situation, to the smirk on his face while doing so.

“No thank you, I got it.” Sam told the working lady.

“Actually, she’s got it,” Brock insisted, this time much more taunting, “that’s her job.”

Sam found himself cornered, and resigned, although not without showing his discontent. He pinched the bridge of his nose and agreed tiredly.

“Fine, uh… Can you just take it up to James’ room when you get the chance?” He forced a smile in Nicole’s direction, whom nodded politely, “Thank you.”

When he was leaving to return to Bucky, Sam took a turn on his heels at the last minute. His blood still boiling, he gave the two plotting men a small but clearly exaggerated reverence.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” He let uncle Milo know his anger wasn’t directed towards him, then spoke directly to Rumlow, “Fuck you, Brock.”

“Classy.” The appellee complained.

“You’re right.” He lied, then turned to the maid one more time, “Nicole, my apologies for such rudeness. On behalf of Mr. Rumlow, of course. I guess money can’t buy decency.”

After addressing that last insult to the obnoxious man, Wilson headed back to the cocktail gathering in order to retrieve his drunk friend.

#sam wilson/bucky barnes #sambucky fanfiction #sam x bucky #sambucky #fake dating au #sambucky au #sam/bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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hungline · 4 years

Note

Taekoook, will you be my valentine 💜💖 + Greek mythology

wings and wine

pairing: taekook

genre: angst, fluff, greek mythology au, pre-slash au, rated pg13

warnings: dionysus!kook, hermes!tae, mentions of alcohol, zeus

a/n: jey, i don’t think you know what monster you unleashed within me, but i LOVE mythology so thank you for this prompt, u angel

words: 1521

summary: He may have been the patron god of tricksters and thieves, but at least he was honest and Jeongguk found that to be the most important fact of all.

+ tag list: @jooneos @kirtikagarg @disrespectfulkookies @roseyjongdae @reeneryu @joonsvalentine @smoochkook ✨

When Jeongguk is made an Olympian, he decides that Hermes is the only god he can trust as far as he can throw him.

He may be new to the Olympian scene, but he understands a lot more than he lets on.

Hera cannot stand the sight of him and he burns to strike her down for what she did to his mother. Ares is too busy drowning in blood to spend any kind of time with him when the humans keep invoking his name to fight their wars for them. Apollo hides behind smiles that do not reach his eyes and flattery that makes Jeongguk’s skin crawl while Artemis is simply cold, only caring about her brother and her hunters. Athena makes him feel small with nothing but a glance from her blank, gray eyes and Hephaestus is sincere but easily distracted by his inventions and his wife. Aphrodite only approaches him when she wants something from him. Poseidon is as arctic as the sea and often acts as if Jeongguk doesn’t exist. Demeter can only focus on the harvest and the situation with her daughter, Kore, lest she runs wild with madness.

Hermes claps him on the shoulder and grins at him as his domain finishes settling into him, the weight of thousands of new offerings and followers resting within him. When he offers his congratulations, Jeongguk knows that he truly means what he says. Despite being the god of tricksters, thieves, and travelers, Hermes is the most straightforward and honest of all the Olympians.

Once Jeongguk’s domain has been officially proclaimed, Zeus barely spares him a glance, his disappointment in Jeongguk all too clear.

Jeongguk doesn’t understand why this is the case since gods do not choose their domains. Their domains choose them. How Zeus ever ended up “cheating” his brothers out of their deal to divide between sky, sea, and earth, Jeongguk doesn’t know and his self-preservation is strong enough to keep him from asking.

He has always belonged to wine, winemaking, and festivities, but now he also belongs to pleasure and theatre. Jeongguk knows that many of the other gods have always seen him as nothing but a foolish drunk and while he can feel the buzz of his power tingling near his core, he does his best to not draw attention to the rest of his specialties. There is something else residing within him, something hidden but present in his power as he explores it. Its jagged edges mesh with the smoothness of Jeongguk’s call on wine yet it does not reveal itself to him no matter how much he prods at it.

He takes the throne that Hestia gave up for him and finds himself itching to return to his forests and the large cities he has always found himself inexplicably drawn to. He wants to go down and mingle with the humans, bringing them joy and a way to forget their troubles by losing themselves in drink and dance. There is much war and death but birth and life as well. All of it should be celebrated; every victory, every loss, and every important event.

During Jeongguk’s first Olympian meeting, nothing of interest takes place. He is bored within a few minutes and finds his gaze drifting towards Hermes.

Hermes spares him a glance only once during the meeting but it is enough to power Jeongguk through the rest of the hours spent bored out of his mind.

As soon as they are free to do so, Jeongguk leaves Mount Olympus and returns to his forest, following a well-traveled path that will lead him straight into the heart of the forest. He and Pan have a drinking contest to hold between themselves and the Council of Cloven Elders. Pan is certain that he can outdrink Silenus and Jeongguk is certain that they are both fools if they believe they can last in a drinking contest against him.

He pauses as the flutter of wings suddenly erupts behind him, a golden light shimmering across the flora of the woods.

“Message for me already?” Jeongguk asks, not daring to turn around until the golden light has died down around him.

Hermes is smirking when their gazes meet, his black hair tousled in waves that frame his face beautifully. He may not be considered as attractive as Apollo or Aphrodite but Jeongguk knows beauty when he sees it and Hermes is it.

“No. More of a warning from me,” Hermes says.

Jeongguk pauses, brow crumpling with confusion. “Why would you be warning me?”

“You may not know it yet, but you carry a cruel and dangerous power with you,” Hermes declares, his expression devoid of his usual humor. “You need to be careful or that power will turn against you.”

“What power?”

Hermes tilts his head to the side, drawing closer as he lowers his voice. Just because no one is there doesn’t mean someone isn’t listening in after all. “Madness. You carry it within you and you will use it against humans in the future. Apollo’s Oracle told me herself.”

Jeongguk blinks, unsure of what to say or do. Birds chirp in the surrounding trees, the wind picking up suddenly around them so leaves begin to swirl in the air. It smells of wild berries and the bark of the trees but none of that is enough to distract Jeongguk from the situation at hand.

“Why would she tell you that? Why do you even care?” Jeongguk finally manages to ask, his voice rough.

Hermes smiles at him but it is cold and devoid of its usual mischief. “I like humans. I didn’t learn medicine and fight the illnesses Pandora’s Box unleashed for nothing. I don’t want to have to deal with you if you end up driving humans insane, Dionysus. We’re family after all.”

Jeongguk shivers despite himself. “And we are also not family as well. I can understand why you would want to protect humanity, but that doesn’t give me any reason to believe you. You could just be saying this to intimidate me into submission. You may be the most honest of all the Olympians, but that does not mean you never lie.”

“Will giving you my true name be enough to convince you that I speak nothing but the truth?” Hermes asks after another moment has passed.

“You would do that?” Jeongguk splutters. “For humans, you would do that?”

Shocked does not begin to cover what Jeongguk feels at that moment. True names are not meant to be given lightly. Having another being’s true name gives someone power over them, a power the being cannot easily resist. Jeongguk knows of only one being in the world who is unaffected by the power of their true name and that is Typhon, the father of all monsters.

For Hermes to be offering his true name in exchange for Jeongguk’s restraint must mean that this is devastatingly important.

Hermes steps forward and cups a hand around his jaw, dipping down until his lips are brushing against the shell of Jeongguk’s ear. His hot breath sends shivers down his spine but Jeongguk ignores his inappropriate response to the older god’s proximity and braces himself. The weight of a god’s true name is no laughing matter. Jeongguk will need all his strength to not show any outward signs of strain when Hermes shares his name.

“Taehyung,” Hermes murmurs quietly, so quiet that Jeongguk has to strain to hear him correctly.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs, his feet have been swept out from underneath him and he has collided head-first with stone. His vision blurs for a moment, his shoulder sagging underneath the sudden heavy pressure but it passes after a few seconds have passed and Jeongguk finds himself leaning against Taehyung’s side to stay upright.

“You mean it then,” Jeongguk groans, trying to blink away the spots in his vision. “I could tell if you were lying.”

“You could do a lot worse to me,” Taehyung responds. “You have my name now but I know you won’t abuse it.”

Jeongguk sways dangerously, his head pounding with the aftershocks of receiving a true name. “Why would you do that for them?”

Taehyung shrugs, stepping back now that Jeongguk is able to stand on his own. “They’re worth it.”

He disappears within the next second, Jeongguk having enough sense to close his eyes before Taehyung shows his true godly form. Golden light bathes his closed eyelids but he does not open them again until the light has returned to its normal yellow glow and Jeongguk can no longer feel the presence of another powerful being.

“I can tell this is going to end horribly,” Jeongguk mutters to himself as he continues on the path he was taking earlier. “But I’ll do my best to not harm them. Only for you, Taehyung.”

And with that solemn promise now having been made, Jeongguk allows himself to focus on less trivial matters such as the drinking contest he is going to win in a landslide as soon as he gets his hands on Pan.

#taekook #vkook #bangtanxm #btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #bts #angst #fluff #p:taehyung/jeongguk #f:w&w #valentine 2020 prompts #m: fic #ask #softjeon #request #jey

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

once upon a time... (it was made for us)

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Fairytale AU for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Princess Clarissa Fairchild dreams of a boy in a tower, one who calls to her for help night after night. Every time he calls out to her, begging for help, asking him to save her.She isn't going to let him down. -------------

Clary isn’t sure when the nightmares began. They bring deep creases of worry to her mother’s eyes and forehead, though Jocelyn always soothes her fears by telling her over and over that they’re only dreams. They can’t hurt her, and most importantly - they are not real.

The problem is that they feel real. The details of a tower she’s never seen before are too intricate, too familiar, to be entirely made up. The voice in her head that cries for help - cries to her specifically, using her name, reaching out to her with voice and arms alike - too distinct to be only in her head.

She’s told not to tell anyone else about the nightmares, and for a while, she doesn’t. Clary sees the boy, she hears his screams, and for a while she simply looks away, hoping that if she ignores them in her mind they’ll go away. Instead, she only wakes up feeling guilty, memories of his screams plaguing even her waking hours. He’s being held there by an Evil Queen. Had he told her that? She doesn’t think so. She’s only ever heard him cry out for help, begging and pleading, but this new fact she knows now with great certainty.

The next few times the nightmare comes to her she tries to help, attempting to climb the tower, scaling the sides of the sleek stone the best she can. Each nightmare she gets a little farther up, a little closer to the prince in the burning tower.

Had he always been a prince? Had the tower always been on fire? Clary isn’t sure. She’s long since stopped questioning the dreams.

She tells only her mother of the dreams until her mother, more distraught with every retelling, begs her to stop.

So Clary breaks her promise to not talk to anyone else about them. She has to - she needs to tell someone or they’re going to drive her insane. She sketches the scene that haunts her sleep, showing it to others, waiting for them to ask her where the inspiration came from so she has an excuse to talk about it. About him - her Prince in his burning tower.

They do notice. They ask, and she tells, eager for the opinions of others, until one day Lady Dorothea catches sight of her showing a drawing to one of the castle’s servants.

“Do you know what that is?” she asks Clary, pointing to the drawing.

“It’s from my dream,” Clary says vaguely. Normally she would have no problem trusting Dot, but she’s close to her mother, and if her mother doesn’t want her talking about this then she can’t be sure where Dot stands on the matter.

“It’s not a dream,” Dot says. “It’s a nightmare. That tower, that place… you’d do best to forget it, Clary. Edom is no place for Princesses, even in dreams.”

There’s something forboding in her words that tells Clary this isn’t just helpful advice, it’s a warning.

“Does your mother know about this?” she asks, and Clary, too afraid to lie, nods.

“She used to, at least. She made me stop talking about them, so I draw them instead.”

Dot turns and walks away without another word. Clary wonders if she should be afraid, but all she can find it in herself to be is thrilled because now she has a name: Edom.

---

Clary makes it to the edge of the kingdom before they realize she’s left and come after her. She hasn’t done anything like this before - running away, seeking out a kingdom she’s never even heard of before, let alone been to - so she doesn’t cover her tracks or leave at the right time to avoid being noticed and followed.

When they bring her back her mother is waiting, along with a man she’s never seen before. When he looks to her it’s with a flash of cat-eyes - a warlock.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the warlock says, holding his hands up in front of him. It’s meant to be an act of reassurance but Clary backs away from the sudden movement, fearing what magic those hands may unleash.

“He’s a friend. He’s here as a favor,” Jocelyn says. There’s an edge to her voice as she nods to a guard and the door closes behind Clary.

“What kind of favor?”

“He’s going to take away some of your memories,” Jocelyn tells her. “It’s for your own good. Those nightmares of yours, the things you’re seeing, the things you’ve learned… they’ll only hurt you. I’m only trying to protect you.”

Clary struggles against the men who grab her by the arms and drag her into a chair where she’s strapped in, unable to move.

“Please, don’t - the boy, I have to help him. I have to save him!” Clary pleads, kicking out every time they try to come near.

“What boy?” The warlock asks, hesitating. “She never mentioned a boy any of the other times.”

Other times? What-- how many times have they done this to her?

“Magnus,” Jocelyn snaps. “I didn’t hire you to encourage this, I hired you to put an end to it.”

“There’s a boy,” she says quickly, hoping that maybe the warlock - Magnus - will listen this time. “He’s locked in a burning tower by an evil Queen and-”

“Magnus, now!” Jocelyn practically screams, her tone frantic now.

“I’m sorry, biscuit,” Magnus says with a fond sense of familiarity, and he truly does look sorry as deep blue tendrils of magic reach out toward her, and everything goes black.

---

It isn’t long before the nightmares return, except that Clary doesn’t know that they’re returning - to her they’re new, calling out to her all over again. The first few times she wakes up she barely remembers having them. She mentions them to her mother who bristles and sends her away. When she returns, still eager to talk about what she saw in her nightmare, she overhears Jocelyn arguing with Lucian Graymark. Clary presses herself back against the wall to listen, staying out of sight around the corner.

“They’re back already,” Jocelyn sighs.

“So soon?” Luke sounds worried. “I told you this was a bad idea. You can’t keep wiping her memory like this.”

“What else would you have me do? She tried to find him the last time, Lucian! But that’s impossible because he’s dead.”

“Is it impossible? Or are you so unwilling to consider the idea that he might be alive that you’re putting your own daughter’s life at risk in the process.”

“I am not,” Jocelyn insists stubbornly. “She’s safer this way. We all are.”

“Is she? Because she remembers. She’s going to keep remembering. And maybe she’d be better off if she knew everything so she could make her own decisions rather than running off after things she only knows half of.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’ll tell her… one day. When she’s ready.”

“When she’s ready, Jocelyn? Or when you are?” Luke asks, and Clary hears the click of her mother’s shoes against the stone floor echoing down the hall as her only warning that she’s leaving rather than continuing whatever fight they’re having. Clary tenses, listening closely for a second, only to hear the steps fade - her mother went down the hallway on the other end of the room rather than coming in her direction, and she heaves a sigh of relief at not being caught eavesdropping.

Or so she thinks.

“Clarissa,” comes Lucian’s voice, and all of that relief is replaced by enough tension she forgets to breathe for a second as if stiffening and holding her breath might make her invisible to the man standing in front of her.

“How much of that did you overhear?” he asks her.

“Enough,” she says defiantly.

“Good. Then I’m not breaking my promise to your mother not to tell you anything if you already know,” he says, and though there’s the hint of amusement in his tone at that his face is still far too serious for Clary’s liking.

“The boy in my nightmares, you know who he is, don’t you?” she asks.

“Possibly. The last time you had the dreams you began drawing pictures of them. The resemblance is… well, too much to be a coincidence, I think, if you’re the one getting visions of him.”

Clary’s eyes widen at that. “Visions? But they’re just-”

“Dreams. Yes. Maybe they are… but maybe they aren’t. And if they aren’t, then the more you know about them the more you’re going to be able to prepare yourself for what’s to come.” Luke’s words are forboding, and Clary doesn’t like the implication of them one bit.

“What is to come?” she asks, trying to sound much more fearless than she feels just then.

“I think you’re meant to save your brother.”

---

The weeks that follow seem to drag on for ages. Lucian tells her things about her family’s past, about a brother they thought was dead, but who may have just been taken out from under her mother’s nose.

“You mustn’t think too ill of her,” Lucian insists softly. “She had no reason to believe otherwise. Even when you started having your nightmares… she truly believes him dead.”

“But you don’t,” Clary points out.

“I’m not willing you rule out the possibility he’s alive,” Luke corrects. “Your father was a clever man. Cruel, but clever. If he wanted to take him...” His words trail off there, unwilling (or perhaps unable) to elaborate further.

“Each time Magnus takes your memories away the dreams seem to come back stronger and more frequent, as do your desires to decipher them and save the boy in the tower. Feels a lot like destiny to me, doesn’t it, kiddo?”

Clary nods. “I have to help him. I can help him, I know I can! Just tell me what I need to know.”

Her brother, Lucian tells her, was experimented on with magic as a baby. He had powers they did not understand and could not control. He was different - the dangerous kind of different. And his name was Jonathan.

Clary studies in secret - she learns the routes between here and where Edom is meant to exist, though none from their kingdom have ever dared to enter there. Dragons rain fire down from the skies, demon-like creatures with inky black skin that circle the land. The Queen - Lilith - is sent to be a warlock of her own right, though none have come back from their quests to find her to confirm or deny.

To many, that’s more than enough confirmation.

She also trains in secret. Lucian is friends with one of the knights who teaches her the best he can in the cover of night, working through hand-to-hand combat and weapons maneuvers not normally given to the women of the court. It’s a good thing she’s a quick study. In fact, with some more training, she’s told that she could easily be one of the better fighters in her family’s kingdom.

That’s good, she thinks, because she’s going to need all the natural skill she can get.

---

The next time Clary has a nightmare she screams the name from the bottom of the burning tower as she dodges the flames to try and find a safe place to climb.

“Jonathan!”

“Clary!” He cries back, and though he’s screaming she can see, just for a moment, the pleased look cross his features at the sound of his name leaving her lips.

“Tell me who’s keeping you here!” she tries, wondering if she’ll remember when she wakes up even if he does tell her.

Jonathan opens his mouth to speak but the word is choked off in his throat, and he’s pulled back, away from the window, with an invisible but violent force.

“I’m going to find you,” she promises, even as she feels herself slipping. “I’m going to save you.”

And then she falls.

---

It’s several more weeks until Lucian tells her she’s allowed to leave. She starts to suspect he may just be stalling, that he’ll never allow her to leave and seek out Jonathan, but then why risk going behind her mother’s back as much as he already has? She forces herself to be patient, all the while dreaming of the Prince in the tower - of her destiny.

And then, one night, it’s time. “You leave in an hour. Get your armor, Hodge is readying your horse.”

Clary’s ready - she’s had a sack packed with essentials since they started planning, one she’s switched the rations out from every other day to keep them fresh and ready at a moment’s notice.

They’re nearly outside when Luke adds, “And I have a friend to accompany you on your journey for extra protection.”

“What?” Clary demands. “No. Taking someone with me was never part of the plan. I can’t risk-”

“Trust me,” Luke insists. “Magnus isn’t a risk. You’ll need him once you cross the border into Edom.”

Clary freezes at the sight of the yellow-eyed man sitting atop a black horse next to her own white mare.

“Magnus - the same Magnus who keeps taking my memories?” Clary hisses. She can’t think of a bigger risk, and to be left alone with him so far from home, from the safety of anything familiar---

“I’m sorry for what I agreed to do for your mother in the past,” Magnus says, bowing his head. “It wasn’t right. I’m here to make amends.”

“Luke, I don’t know if I can trust him,” she whispers so only Luke can hear.

“Then trust me, Clary. He’s here to help.”

She doesn’t have much of a choice - he’s here now, and she can’t waste another minute waiting around to argue.

“I trust you. And thank you, Luke. For everything.”

She double-checks the daggers sheathed at her hips, the armor around her torso, and slings her pack over the back of the horse before mounting it herself and taking off under the cover of night, with Magnus by her side.

“I’m coming, Jonathan,” she says under her breath as she urges her horse on faster.

---

Most of the travel is surprisingly easy until they cross the border into Edom at daybreak. There’s nothing officially marking it, but it becomes obvious as the ground begins to grow dry, shifting from grass to dark reddish-brown earth which only seems to grow leafless, twisting trunks of what can hardly be considered to be proper trees. Even the sky seems to take on a golden-red hue behind dense clouds.

“This way,” she says, turning them to the left.

“How do you know?” Magnus asks, raising an eyebrow but following her without hesitation.

“I just… do. I can feel him. In my dreams, it always felt like I was being drawn to that tower, to that boy, whether he’s Jonathan or someone else entirely. I feel the same pull here, only stronger.” She doesn’t have a single doubt that her instincts are right.

They travel in that direction for what feels like hours, though it doesn’t seem as if the world around them changes at all. The sun should be rising, moving throughout the sky, but instead, it hovers steadily over the horizon. It’s disorienting.

The first time Clary hears a dragon screech overhead she freezes. It’s much larger than she imagined, and if it weren’t for Magnus there’s a good chance she’d be dead before she ever reaches her prince in his tower.

Instead, Magnus sends a bolt of magic straight through the creature’s heart. It looks as if it disappears within the dragon, but then she sees it - the faint, pulsing blue from beneath its skin. The magic is killing it from the inside. She has to turn her head away as it tears the creature open to destroy it.

“I-” she stammers, pulse racing, hands shaking at her sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m here for a reason, remember. Let’s keep going.”

They continue on, for how long Clary doesn’t know. There are more dragons, along with other creatures that are somehow more horrifying though they crawl along the ground. This time she’s far more useful in dealing with them, putting her weapons training to good use. She’s infinitely grateful for Luke sending Magnus along, however - without him by her side she would be dead at least a dozen times over.

Finally, just when Clary is starting to wonder if they’ll have to attempt a camp to rest, they see the tower in the distance. In her dreams, it always stood alone, the focal point of everything she saw. But here, in person, it’s attached to a much more sprawling structure. The castle has torches lit up along the sides of the exterior, and the windows of the tower itself are lit with flames as well. And there, leaning out of the window, crying for help -

“Jonathan.” Clary breathes out the name as his pleas echo across the barren land to where she and Magnus pause.

“Help me! Someone, please! Help me!”

Dragons circle the tower, too many of them to count.

“If you want, you can stay here, Princess. I can try and get close enough on my own to-” Magnus starts to offer, but Clary cuts him off.

“No,” she says, taking a deep breath to steady her trembling voice. “It has to be me.”

“Very well,” Magnus says. “I’ll provide cover. I can’t portal anywhere I haven’t been before, which means I can’t get you into the tower itself. I could drop you above it, but that’s far too much of a risk. What I can do is get you back faster: take this.”

Magnus reaches into a small pouch tied to his waist, pulling out a necklace that looked like a colorful shard of glass.

“Once you get to Jonathan, I can open a portal for the two of you to jump through from the tower. But listen closely: you must be in contact with one another, and with this shard. Understand?”

Clary nods. There’s so much pressure on her now, not just to make it to the castle but to get to the tower, to convince Jonathan she’s there to help, and to get him to jump through a portal with her that she isn’t even sure will work because all she has to go off of is blind faith in the man giving her a magical portal necklace.

It’s a lot. It’s too much… but she doesn’t have a choice. There’s no turning back now, not when she’s so close. Leaving her horse behind with Magnus she takes off at a run towards the castle.

As predicted, dragons spot her coming from a mile away and begin to descend on her. Magnus makes short work of them each and every time - after the second one, she stops looking up in fear at every screech and simply trusts him to have her back. She deals with the creatures that come at her from the ground, with blades through hearts and heads, aiming for where brains and major arteries should be or slicing at legs to keep them from chasing after her as she leaves them behind, wounded.

When she reaches the bottom of the castle and looks up, the tower with the boy in it looming ominously overhead, she doubts herself more than she has at any other moment of this journey. It’s the first time she’s truly alone, even with Magnus watching from afar to keep the dragons at bay. He can’t help her climb, he can’t keep her arms from shaking with the effort needed to find every grip and pull herself up. She pauses more often than she’d like, for longer than she’d like.

“Clary!” the boy in the tower calls down to her. “Is it really you?”

She wonders if he’s dreamt of her as well. Perhaps her nightmares were his dreams of reassurance and comfort that there was someone out there, someone coming.

“Hold on, Jonathan! I’m almost there.”

There’s no reply - instead, it goes eerily silent above her. The screeching and flapping wings of the dragons cease entirely. Jonathan is no longer calling out of his window to her and something doesn’t feel right. She continues to climb, her progress slow but steady until her fingertips grip a window ledge.

She expects Jonathan to be there waiting - instead, a female’s hand with long, black nails reaches out to grab her by the wrist and pull her up as if she weighs nothing. Blood red lips and narrowed eyes framed by long black hair are what greet her instead.

“Well, well, well,” the Queen says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I stand corrected,” she says, gaze turning toward the corner of the room where Jonathan sits huddled on the floor, a fresh burn covering his left cheek. “Looks like you tricked a Morgenstern into taking interest in your pathetic pleas after all.”

The woman pulls Clary in through the window and drops her to the floor, but Clary is quick to spring to her feet. She readies herself for an attack but it doesn’t come. The Queen walks back towards Jonathan, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him up.

“Stand in the presence of a Princess,” she hisses.

“Sorry Mother,” Jonathan mumbles, wincing at the pain of moving his lips as they pull at the burned flesh on his face.

“Let him go,” Clary demands, daggers pulled and ready at her sides.

“Or you’ll do what, little girl?” The Queen asks, arching an eyebrow at her. With a flick of her wrist, the dagger in Clary’s right hand is flung from her grasp, out of reach. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. He isn’t worth it. Leave now and I’ll spare your life.”

Clary looks to Jonathan who stands, shaking, behind the Queen, defeat written in his hunched shoulders and the way his eyes remain trained on the floor. Her heart breaks for him and the knowledge that he believes his mother’s words, that he’s not worth saving, that he expects Clary to turn and leave to save herself.

“You’re wrong,” Clary says. “He is worth saving, and I’m not leaving without him.”

Jonathan stands a little straighter at that, looking over at her in disbelief.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the woman says, bringing her hand up slowly in front of her. “On both counts.”

Another swift movement of her hand and Clary feels her feet lift off of the ground, an invisible momentum pushing her back through the open window. She manages to catch her fingertips on the ledge, dangling over the side of the building.

This time Jonathan does appear at the window, looking down at her as if he isn’t sure whether pulling her back up to face his mother is truly a better option than letting her fall. Clary hears a noise beneath her dangling feet and glances down to see a swirling portal beneath her.

Magnus.

Clary looks up at Jonathan with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Jonathan hesitates, then nods.

“Then grab by hand,” she says, getting a better grip with her right hand so she can reach her left up towards Jonathan. “And jump.”

Jonathan’s eyes go wide. “What?! No!”

“Trust me,” she repeats again, with more urgency this time. She knows the Queen thinks her helpless, that she’s simply playing with them. They don’t have much time.

Jonathan realizes this as well. “Goodbye, Mother,” he says with a single glance back before leaning over the ledge of the windowsill, grabbing Clary’s outstretched hand and jumping down after her as she lets go.

Clary grips the necklace shard with one hand, the other holding tight to Jonathan, as they fall through the portal in the air beneath them-

-and come tumbling onto the ground next to Magnus on the other side.

Clary hears a cry of anguish from the window and sees the Queen in the place where Jonathan stood all those times before, looking down at them.

“You actually came for me,” Jonathan says, voice full of disbelief. “I saw you in my dreams so many times, and I hoped, but-”

“As much as I love a good family reunion,” Magnus starts, eyeing the sudden influx of dragons coming from the direction of the castle. “Perhaps we could save the celebrations for once we cross that border home, what do you think?”

Clary mounts her horse, reaching a hand to help Jonathan up behind her.

“I think that’s a pretty good plan,” Clary agrees, already spurring her horse forward. “C’mon Jonathan, let’s get you home.”

#clary fray #jonathan morgentern #magnus bane #shadowhunters #shadowhunterbingo #long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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profitinaecho · 4 years

Text

Pre1900s

August, 1845

Elizabeth Ortecho drew her shoulders back, drawing herself into perfect posture while looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her new yellow dress was the color of jonquils and set off her tan skin and black hair perfectly. The cut did almost scandalous things to her figure. If she were an actual lady, she would regret that more than she did. Women are supposed to be chaste and submissive. Elizabeth naturally was none of those things but all of her training up until this point prepared her to fake it. She scowled at her reflection and pinched her cheeks for some color.

The carriage had arrived to take her to the house party at the Duchess Ann Evans’ home. Before her family had lost their fortune to her father’s illness, Elizabeth had been close with the Duchess’ children. But that was then and she needed to find a viable husband to save her family from ruin now. Her childhood friend, Maxwell Evans, would be there all grown up. It would be nice to see him but she couldn’t allow him to distract her from her mission. She remembered the reason she was dressed like this and it wasn’t to mingle with Maxwell. Her only goal was to seduce Doctor Valenti.

————————————-

Maxwell Evans took a last look in the mirror. He didn’t care much about his appearance normally but the type of people downstairs definitely cared. He wore a Savile Row evening suit, neatly combed hair, and a fresh shave. He would be sure to use the cultured accent that had been drummed into him at an early age. He would need it to impress future business contacts and hopefully find a viable candidate to marry. His parents had made him promise to cozy up to Maria, the daughter of an Earl, in hopes of combining their companies with marriage.

Coming down the stairs, Maxwell saw Lord DeLuca and his daughter waiting in the drawing room for dinner. Maria was in a powder blue dress made of the finest materials by her family’s tailor. A few other gentlemen were also loitering, waiting on the rest of the ladies to appear. Many of them were discussing business in the House of Lords and things that had happened at Oxford. It drove Maxwell nearly insane with boredom. Bowing slightly as he approached the Deluca’s, Maxwell put on his most charming grin. “Lord DeLuca, I trust the rum industry is treating you well? I have been following your growth for some time.”

“Oh? My uh, business agent sees to the company details.” Lord DeLuca shifted uncomfortably.

“I see.” It was exactly as Maxwell had feared. Lord DeLuca knew nothing about his own company. Maxwell had learned the alcohol industry from the ground up and built his company based on the findings. Any business interactions would not go forward, but Maria was beautiful and his key to combining their companies so he looked forward to getting to know her better. She was the key to this deal going forward. Maria smiled shyly at him through her lashes. He smiled back at her and felt relieved. This would be easier than he expected. Behind her, a lady in a yellow dress and black curls entered and he realized it was his childhood friend, Elizabeth. Bowing slightly to announce his departure, Max said “My old neighbor has entered and I must go say hello.”

“But I will have a chance to speak with you after dinner, won’t I?” Maria pouted.

“Of course.” Maxwell promised. This was going much better than he expected if she was already interested. Maxwell strode across the room to Elizabeth. “Look at you, all cleaned up. You look lovely.” He teased her.

Elizabeth forced herself not to stick her tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you.”

“I’m so glad you came. These people are a terrible bore.” He admitted quietly.

His mother announced that dinner was ready and the old friends parted- Maxwell to sit next to the Delucas and Elizabeth to sit next to Dr. Kyle Valenti.

————————————-

Elizabeth had zoned out by the soup course and was willing herself not to doze off when she heard the men talking about going on a shooting party after dinner. Before she could stop herself, she found herself asking “May I shoot too?”

Every head at the table pivoted towards her and she realized her mistake. Dr. Valenti’s eyes shot up towards his dark hairline. “You hunt?”

Placing her hands delicately on her lap, Elizabeth nonchalantly replied, “Oh, I try.” Further down the table, Maxwell smirked. He knew better. After all, he had been the one to teach her to shoot.

“I’m sure you’re quite good.” Dr. Valenti complimented her.

“I’m a dreadful shot but it sounds fun.” Elizabeth forced herself to smile at him more intimately and flirtatious than she actually felt. “Perhaps you could show me how?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Kyle answered her. His eyes held a flicker of interest. If she could manage to mind her manners and act like a lady, her family might be saved after all. She found Kyle attractive and boring, but he was kind and there were worse things he could be. Feeling cheered at the progress she was making, she looked down the table at Maxwell. She could tell he was judging her for the exchange and she felt the urge to send him a vulgar gesture. Despite once being her very best friend, Maxwell only brought out her worst traits now. With the doctor, she did her best to behave and be everything society expected her to be. Not that it was a comparison or competition, because Maxwell was her past and she was going to do everything to ensure Kyle was her future.

————————————-

The conversation with the other ladies in the parlor was tedious at best while she waited for the men to join them. She found herself desperately talking about the weather with Lady Isobel. When the gentleman joined them, she exhaled with relief until she saw that Lord Wyatt Long was approaching her.

“My dear Lady Elizabeth, I was so saddened to be sitting so far away from you at dinner.” Lord Long leaned in too close to her and she willed herself not to retreat. She couldn't control the look of disgust on her face though.

“Oh?” Elizabeth told herself not to roll her eyes and went to move around him but he caught her wrist.

“We should remedy that by having a conversation now.” Lord Long wasn’t letting go of her wrist and was starting to scare her.

Maxwell left a protesting Maria across the room to rescue Elizabeth. “Actually, she promised to have a conversation with me.” Maxwell had found it amusing watching Elizabeth try to escape Lord Long until he could tell she was distressed. Maxwell had probably ruined his chances with Maria based upon the disgust on her face but Elizabeth had needed help. Taking her hand from Lord Long’s Maxwell placed it in the crook of his elbow, pivoted and sat with her across the room. “You have picked up a determined admirer.” He teased her.

“I keep discouraging him but he won’t go away.” Elizabeth huffed. In the haze of the gaslights, he could think of a million reasons a man would be infatuated with Elizabeth. He’d barely been able to keep his eyes off her smooth tan skin and sparkling dark eyes all though dinner. “Thank you for the rescue. Now if you’ll excuse…” Elizabeth stood up, her yellow skirts rustling.

“Where are you going?” Maxwell had the strangest flutter in his stomach. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“To speak to Dr. Valenti.” She craned her neck looking for Kyle. That feeling in Max’s gut intensified and he belatedly realized it was jealousy.

Max found himself chuckling. “Why?”

“Look, I know he isn’t the most exciting man in the room but he’s not bad to look at. And he could take care of me and my family. My father is sick. He’s an honorable, skilled man.”

Max had to admit she was making sense in a detached logical way. But the Elizabeth he knew was passionate and bold. It made him sad to think of her spending her life that way. “It seems like a decent match on paper but why do you think he would want to marry you?”

Elizabeth gasped in outrage and leaned forward. It did amazing things to her breasts in that dress and distracted Max. “I could ask the same thing about Lady Maria. Why would the daughter of an Earl want to be with you?” They were staring each other down when it was announced that it was time to form the hunting party.

Before his eyes, Elizabeth took a deep breath and transformed into a perfect lady. She smiled a sweet innocent smile and her dark eyes lost their spark of mischief. She batted her long black eyelashes and every inch of her posture softened. “I bet I can make Dr. Valenti mine before you manage with Lady Maria.” Elizabeth’s voice had become quiet and husky. It had the type of suggestive rumble that made a man want things. Her expression was pleasant and blank and it startled Maxwell to see her acting so unlike herself. Before Maxwell could tell her that he wasn’t sure he wanted Lady Maria after all, she lifted her skirts and flounced over to Dr. Valenti, glaring at Maxwell over his shoulder. Elizabeth was put on a flawless performance and anyone that hadn’t known her since childhood would be under her spell.

————————————-

Elizabeth found herself alone in a sea of tweed with no one but Maxwell for company. Assuming she ever spoke to him again. Elizabeth closed her gun with a snap and plastered on her brightest smile. “Good afternoon, Dr. Valenti.”

It bothered Maxwell that the doctor received her sunniest greeting while so far, all he had gotten was a scowl from her.

“Are you ready for the hunt today?” Kyle asked Elizabeth.

“I’m actually a bit nervous. This gun is just so big.” Max snorted and Elizabeth lifted her skirt to move closer to Dr. Valenti, deliberately stomping Max’s foot on her way under her skirt so no one else would know.

“Hand me your weapon and I’ll make sure it is properly loaded.” Kyle held out his hand and she demurely handed him the rifle.

A while later, a flock of partridge took flight from the shrubbery and Elizabeth tracked it with her gun. She followed its arc with her eyes then with a curse, yanked the gun up and shot wide. Maxwell raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

“Cheer up, Miss Ortecho! Just a little practice and I’m sure you’ll bag something.” Called Kyle from her other side. “You have a good steady hand.”

“They fly so fast, don’t they?” She blinked up at him innocently.

“They do. Just have some patience and you’ll hit one.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” She sighed sweetly and reloaded her weapon.

“You’re such a liar.” Maxwell teased her when Dr. Valenti had walked a ways away from them. “You had those birds in your sight. You missed on purpose.”

“You must be seeing things.”

“To be honest, I’m quite positive you could outshoot every man on this property.”

“No man wants to be outshot by a woman.” Elizabeth argued.

“You were better than me at everything when we were children. I don’t know why you pretend to be something you aren’t.”

“You were much smaller then. You could take me in a heartbeat now.” His eyes darkened and Elizabeth flushed when she realized what she said. Clearing her throat, she explained, “Most men get cranky when something threatens their masculinity.”

“What will you do if you marry him? You can’t hide your skills from him forever.”

“I suppose I will have to be a dutiful wife and not embarrass my husband by outshooting him.” Before Max could reply that he disagreed, she lifted her yellow skirts and headed towards Dr. Valenti. “Dr. Valent! I thought you could give me a few pointers on my aim.”

“Of course, Miss. Ortecho. Now raise your gun” Kyle was all smiles as he settled her gun against her shoulder. He adjusted her hands on the weapon and smiled warmly. “Try it like that.”

“Thank you so much. It feels better already.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at him over her shoulder and Max saw it then- the moment Dr. Valenti started to fall and it tore him up inside.

Whispering quietly to Elizabeth as they followed the hunting party, Maxwell asked, “Are you going to stop pretending you can’t hit the broadside of a barn? It’s very tedious watching you pretend to be someone else.”

Up ahead, the hounds barked as they flushed out a flock of pheasants from the brush. Glancing away from Max, Elizabeth raised her gun, aimed and fired two shots in quick succession. Two birds fell from the sky with a squawk. The rest of the men turned to stare at her in astonishment. She shrugged daintily, “Would you look at that! Wasn’t that lucky?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Come find me when you get tired of this farce. I much prefer the real you.”

#alteraroswell2020 #rnmevents #rnm echo #roswell nm #ficlets? ficlets?#rnm fic

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Justice League Spectacular #1 (1992)

Just off-panel: Bibbo's ice cream truck.

I probably shouldn't be reading this or Justice League Quarterly before I read the Giffen/DeMatteis Justice League but what can I do? That's the order they were placed in the short box! It would be a different story if free will were not an illusion but since it is, my hands are tied. It's either read this or, um, I don't know. Die from a temporal paradox? I won't risk it! I was looking through a bunch of my old writing and art last week and discovered a bunch of the kind of sentimental and sort of intellectual crap young people write. It's the kind of stuff you hide away and never show anybody ever and hope that when you die, it'll just get tossed in a dumpster with your old porn and Magic the Gathering cards. But it got me thinking about how brave I am! So brave! The kind of brave you wouldn't hesitate to call some jerk who signed up for the military because he couldn't live as a civilian. No, no. More braver than that! And being this super brave kind of person, I thought that maybe I should share some of this old poetry with everybody! But not yet! You have to work up to being truly brave! So instead, I'll share this piece of artwork I did that was supposed to be the first in a lengthy and disgusting series. It's of Lord Fondlerot, a character I created for the Dwarflover online comic I used to do. He was really into fucking things and I thought, "Hey! I should do a series of drawings where he fucks every creature in the monster manual!" But instead of doing an entire series, I drew one picture and grew either bored or disgusted with the concept. So here's that one picture:

Lord Fondlerot fucking an Axebeak.

Now you're probably wondering just how terrible my poetry must be if I'm opening with that! Well, you'll see soon enough! This issue begins with Sue Dibny still alive and visiting a Florida theme park with her husband, The Elasticated Man. Wow, remember when Sue Dibny was killed and all the heroes freaked out about their secret identities and considered doing intense brain damage to every single person who ever knew any of their identities until they found out that The Atom's ex-wife Jean Loring had gone cuckoo for Atom's cocoa puffs? She wanted them back so bad that she began threatening and murdering the loved ones of all the super heroes. It was the kind of story DC sometimes does where you read it and think, "Well, the twist at the end of that mystery was definitely worth the destruction of the most stable marriage in the DC Universe and also the death of Firestorm and Captain Boomerang! So good!" I mean it doesn't make you think that. It makes you think the exact opposite. Tom King would eventually do pretty much the same thing in Heroes in Crisis but instead of Jean Loring fucking up by accidentally killing Sue Dibny and murdering more people to cover her tracks, Wally West fucks up and kills Poison Ivy and some others and then tries to cover his tracks. But at least Tom King's had all of those entertaining scenes where the heroes are doing therapy and we get to see how much they're all suffering from PTSD. That's always a fun aspect of super heroes we never get to read enough about. Dammit! I keep doing it. I meant it was the opposite of fun! Although I still liked it because sometimes I just like seeing other people in pain. Not in a sick perverse way where I pop a boner or something! Just in that way where you sit around all day thinking, "My life is terrible and everything is wrong and I hate my parents for bringing me into this wretched existence and the only thing that might make me feel better is to learn that Superman sometimes feels the same way." Oh, remember when Tom King was writing Batman and he had that two issue Booster Gold arc where we got to see how fucking insane Booster Gold was from living through all of those horrible, wretched, dark alternate timelines? And the only way he can deal with the trauma and the PTSD is by making a joke out of everything? I'll have to think of that as the canon Booster Gold when I'm reading Giffen and DeMatteis's Justice League. Maybe it'll make all of Booster and Beetle's inappropriate joking more appropriate. Back to the story, Sue Dibny, alive and well, and her husband Ralph "The Elasticated Man" Dibny are busy showing a bunch of European diplomats around the non-Disney World theme park.

See? You can tell they're European because they're all smart and shit.

The first stop in the park is to Alice's Wonderland where the diplomats are attacked by the Royal Flush Gang. They are a gang whose theme is playing cards and not expensive toilets. Their powers are the ability to ride on gigantic cards and to make poker puns.

If looking good in tight fitting costumes is also a power, it's my new answer to the question of which super power would I choose..

Ten's outfit reminds me of the days when nipples were allowed to show through tops without being erased away through some kind of editing software. The 70s were a wild decade! Sure, there were also nips on television in the 80s but the 80s, generally speaking, sucked and were a huge contribution to the downfall of America.

The King of Spades mansplaining their entire concept to the Queen of Spades.

It's true that the royal flush beats any other poker hand but I doubt Superman is going to surrender after this concept is explained to him because, in the end, they're not fucking playing poker. It turns out Maxwell Lord paid the Royal Flush Gang to make a little trouble so the Justice League could beat them up and get some media attention. But the Justice League has apparently broken up and The Elasticated Man just isn't hero enough to save the European delegates all by himself. He might have been if the Royal Flush Gang had done what they were told and not really fight back. But why would they do that?! Wouldn't they still be in trouble with federal agents?! Booster Gold finds Blue Beetle busy pouting in the old Justice League cave headquarters. Booster has decided to try to cheer his old buddy up although why wouldn't Booster just travel to a timeline where Ted Kord is already cheered up? Is that how time travel works in the DCU? Or did Booster already try that, it went horribly sideways, and now he's a little more fucked up in the head when he returns to the "real" timeline?

For some reason, Ice and Fire have also come down to the cave. Probably to accidentally go on a double date with Booster and Beetle. Booster and Fire and Beetle and Ice hear a news report about the Royal Flush Gang and decide to go save Ralph. Superman also hears about the situation and heads to Florida where he's almost immediately defeated by The Royal Flush Gang. Not because they're dangerous and competent super villains but because some mysterious benefactor has give them weapons capable of knocking out Superman's powers. Maxwell Lord is not that benefactor so who could have done it? Certainly not Guy Gardner, right?! What would he want with getting the Justice League back together. Isn't he busy being Warrior or something by this point? Power Girl, Metamorpho, and Guy Gardner all join in on the fight. The guy behind it all is that Weapons Master dude who is desperate to get a new weapon for his arsenal: a Green Lantern ring. The attack on the Royal Flush Gang fails to get him the ring so he decides to attack directly. But not in this issue! He has to wait for a regular series issue. Ice uses Guy's ring to contact Hal Jordan because somebody finally decided this Justice League wasn't really a big league Justice League. Everybody reading it knew it for years. But I guess Dan Jurgens was assigned the task to get a new, more believably powerful League together. So Hal Jordan flies around to pick up some new members to save the day. He chooses The Flash and Aquaman which seems about right. But he also chooses Crimson Fox which seems like sliding backwards into goofy Justice League territory. Not that I totally approve of Aquaman but I have to admit he's a "serious" choice for the League.

Doctor Light also joins the party. Although why she'd keep the name of a pedo, I couldn't guess. Just become Lightwoman or something. But no! Once some jerk earns their doctorate, they just have to demand to be called Doctor.

I'm sorry. I was too distracted pointing out that Doctor Light joined the fight and how her namesake was a pervert to comment on Metamorpho acting like a huge fucking pig. Crimson Fox beats up some guys dressed as cards and admits that she's a boring idiot whose favorite part of the game is shuffling the cards. I understand the need to think up some kind of goofy one-liner when you go into battle but shouldn't you at least try to think up one that doesn't make yourself sound like a pathetic asshole? Weapons Master's plan failed but he figures he has enough information to get Green Lantern's ring next time. He'll then sell it to a Dominator for a few bucks and maybe some slaves. The big hitters talk it over and decide they should start a new Justice League without the approval of the United Nations. Yeah! Who needs some stupid Earthly authority when you've got an invulnerable Kryptonian, an all powerful space cop, and the king of the seven seas! All they need is a Greek Goddess and a mentally ill furry with a long history of violent behavior and they'll have the big team back together! Booyah! I mean, without that stupid Booyah shit because Cyborg is basically a toaster at this point. Maybe. I don't know! What am I, Johnni DC, Continuity Cop?! The heroes make one more decision: split the group into two Leagues. So once again, they're forming Justice League America and Justice League Europe. How come I don't remember this shit?! Did the comics get canceled in '92 and then immediately fired back up? I don't seem to remember two different incarnations of these teams. Maybe I should have stored my comic books in chronological order so it would all make sense. Justice League Spectacular #1 Rating: C. I just read the letters pages and it looks like this comic book takes place between JLA #60 and JLA #61! So editorial decided the teams needed to be shaken up and the best way to do it was to disband the League in the regular series, have a special one-shot comic that gets them back together but with a different roster, and then send them back to work in the next issue of the regular series. I guess I should just shove this comic book into the middle of the regular series so when I reread it all again in my 80s, it'll make more sense! Let's close with the worst drawing of Aquaman I've ever seen:

Actually, he looks a little bit like Grunion Guy.

#Justice League Spectacular #Justice League #DC COmics #DC #Dan Jurgens #Gerard Jones

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skamamoroma · 5 years

Text

Vediamo/We’ll See - Thoughts (or, as I like to call it, Megan rambles about giraffes for far too long)

As requested (by you lovely lot), my rambles on this clip. And what a clip it is!

This one made me sob. Full on tears down my face, need a tissue sob. It was equal parts heartbreaking and soothing which is Skam allover isn’t it?!

I think this one is one of my absolute favourites so far. I’ve been dying to see more of Mamma Rametta (when will we learn her name?!) and I have a feeling we’ll see more but this was some of what we needed after the other evening.

Her’s a long winded way of saying that everything about this clip was ever so special, the acting was stunning, the symoblism was completely perfect and in equal parts, brutal but beautiful.

So, first off, Ludo and the god damn synthy atmospheric music that has plagued me for weeks. I LOVE this kind of music and god has he used it to his advantage so much. This one is so sad but kind of helps us feel how Marti’s head is spinning. He’s a couple of days post Milan but his mind is still confused and full of hurt and sadness. He has internalised Maddalena’s words and yet is still researching. But as we all know, the internet is not always the best place to be when you’re researching a complex illness or medical issue. We can see him looking at elements of ‘suicide’ and this is a boy who we know has had a lot of exposure to mental illness but doesn’t have a lot of understanding so, to him, this must be very difficult to comprehend and so he will take things at face value.

I love seeing Marti in his room. It’s SO BLUE but so cosy still. I also love seeing him in his sweatshirt bottoms because he always looks like the cuddliest bean. Bless him.

We know he hasn’t heard from Nico but when we see that text it’s the first interaction they’d had post-Milan and poor Marti is still so confused and hurt and in the belief that he’s just another ‘someone’ to Nico, just a temporary thing. It KILLS me because we know, even when Nico was at his worst, it was still ALL about Marti. It’s where his heart is.

AND THEN THE TEXT MESSAGE. Oh god. I am so VERY pleased that I was actually having a nap when this came out because I watched the translated version and not the website version first and when I read the translation of that text it made me cry instantly.

We’ve seen/heard of giraffes 4 times so far: - The drawing on Nico’s wall - The beer glasses at the Halloween party that Nico loved - Nico’s discussion as to what he’d do as the Last Man - The flip book/horse riding lessons

There had to be a reason why Nico had this love of this animal and brought it up so many times. There had to be something about the giraffe that he loved and finding out what it is absolutely broke me because its SO BEAUTIFUL and SO perfect for his character I am still a little speechless as to how they did this. I didn’t for one moment think that any remake (and I was never down with remakes of the original in the first place until I realised there’d be an Italian one and saw the stunning trailer) would ever be able to match OR supercede the original in terms of layers of metaphor and nuanced symbolism but then THIS SEASON.... good lord.

First of all, Nico had to make that giraffe. ON AN OLD MOBILE PHONE. To me, that’s almost impossible. Nico, the sweetheart, went to the effort of making that adorable kind of sad looking punctuation giraffe just to send to Marti.

Then the words - “The giraffe’s heart is far from its thoughts. She fell in love yesterday and she doesn’t know yet”.

I swear, I didn’t think they’d do this. I didn’t think they’d make it THIS meaningful. Nico’s love for giraffes suddenly makes a ridiculous amount of sense. He actually IDENTIFIES with them to explain himself in terms of his illness. What a heartrendingly beautiful and gut wrenching sentiment. AH. I’m so in love with it.

The idea that head and heart are distanced and that love can exist in the heart that the brain may not realise yet just honestly makes me want to cry.

I’m a sucker for this stuff. I am legitimately ALL ABOUT this kind of thing, the metaphorical and symbolic nature of things that people cling to or use to help them through life and Nico broke me with this. We understand him so much more. I wish Marti would have perhaps spent more time READING that to understand it because Nico is effectively telling him he loves him, that his heart is separate to his brain, that he can feel things but sometimes his brain isn’t on the same page and that his love for Marti is what is real.

He kissed Marti’s heart. He drew a coffee heart. He puts so much stock in the HEART because he’s literally saying that his brain betrays him and doesn’t necessarily reflect what’s in his heart. But we STILL saw him in his episode and Marti was everything to him. He’s so full of love and it’s terribly sad that he has such a tough time because of his illness.

I don’t blame Marti for blocking his number. It’s really sad that he did but Marti doesn’t understand anything, he thinks he’s being played or used and that his time with Nico is meaningless. Looking at their history and the whole situation where Nico ‘went back’ to Maddalena, his doubts almost have foundation in reality and then Maddalena just confirmed them. I don’t know what will happen with Friday’s clip and the phone but we shall have to wait and see with that.

And then the focus is all on Marti and his mamma. Oh my. This scene. This beautiful beautiful scene. First off, Mamma Rametta has the most insanely gorgeous hair. It’s just CUTE that we know where Marti gets his hint of red from in his curls. It’s that instant familiarity and closeness you feel when you see them both. ALSO SHE ALWAYS WEARS BLUE. Like mother, like son <3

The way he shouted is something I think many people can understand. He’s not able to share. He doesn’t feel able to be open with her for many reasons but the main two, I think, are that he doesn’t want her to be burdened with this stuff as he doesn’t think she can cope with it and also because he can’t be truthful without explaining his sexuality.

The way Fede plays this though is so pitch perfect. He’s stressed, tearful, frustrated and heartbroken. It’s a heady mix and I adore Fede’s performance. He’s wonderful.

But I ALSO adore Mamma Rametta’s persistence. She won’t leave. I got a true sense of her as a mother here and a little of Martino’s fierceness. She was not going to let her son make her leave because she KNOWS he isn’t ok.

That door slam, the door handle hitting the floor and Marti pressing his head to the other side of the door hurt like hell but it was so well done.

AGAIN WITH THE SYMBOLISM LUDO. Just as Nico stood on the other side of bars, Marti is on the other side of a door to his Mama and she CAN’T GET TO HIM. She can’t open the door herself. Marti has to open the door for them. He has to take the first step to find their connection again and I loved how that was all shown in the way the clip was shot. YET AGAIN, this show stuns me with the way it uses cinematography to convey a message. UGH, so great.

I felt Fede’s acting in this moment. I’ve been in this moment. I’ve felt as he felt and he. was. wonderful. You could feel his frustration and sadness and instant regret and his little voice “are you sitting there”?

But then you see Mamma Rametta and she’s sitting alongside a quote written on Marti’s wall: :Joy lies in the fight, in the attempt, in the suffering involved, not in the victory itself”

Oh Marti. I don’t know when he wrote that but the fact he did tells me he’ll be ok. To have his Mamma sitting next to THOSE WORDS is so meaningful and is a summary of this entire season. God, has Marti suffered and fought and been brave... It’s a summary of his bravery. He’ll TRY. SO GOD DAMN BEAUTIFUL. I keep using that word. Damnit. Haha. It’s so true though.

“We’re so happy in this house, huh?” - and isn’t that just the thing you say to a loved one or someone close? That self aware, self deprecating thing you can say even in difficult moments? He recognizes for them both that they’re both sad and it’s a little moment of connection even if they can bond over the sadness, at least they can bond.

The tears. I was a little emotional by this point what with the GIRAFFE of it all but those tears. Marti looks so exhausted and forlorn and just worn down. I miss his smile every single time it goes away.

His almost bitter laugh and eye roll at the knowledge that his father has betrayed his trust was perfectly played by Fede because COME ON. His dad did that? That’s not ok. He asked him not to, specifically. There was nothing there in his chat with his dad to suggest that Marti was in trouble or upset that may have prompted his father to tell his mother so it seems pretty awful to me that his father did this and still hasn’t contacted Marti about it, hasn’t responded with any words of comfort or love. I don’t know where that’s going but it’s really sad for Marti.

And then the bit that breaks me ever single time. God there are tears as I’m writing this. When Marti says he doesn’t know if his sexuality matters to his Mamma... MY GOD, the way she says his name. Her broken voice through tears is just gut wrenching.

“You’re the most important thing in my life”. The words Marti needs to hear and, by the sound of it, the words his mamma needed to say. She can hardly get them out. Marti’s reaction kills me because it’s full of relief. He SMILES. Her words get through to him and the way, from this point onwards, he SMILES is like a plaster to the heart, it’s so soothing and comforting to see that kind of relief. It’s so comforting to also see a mother who is struggling but trying HARD (like the quote says) and who still is taking the opportunity to tell her son that no matter what, he is what’s important to her. For any person who struggles with their sexuality or who has to perhaps face a moment of honesty with a loved one like this..... well, for me, it’s really damn emotional and full of hope.

Mamma Rametta needs all of the cuddles and love. I’ve adored her since we first saw her but GOD, look at her trying so hard. I love that her first idea is to spend time with her son, to talk. She’s offering him that and effectively telling him that she’s there for him and that she WANTS them to reconnect. He looks grateful.

And that’s when you truly believe they’re family and see their mother/son bond because there’s this banter between them even in the midst of all of this sadness and heartbreak and confusion....

Vediamo.

Ah god, it’s simply so cute. She knows her son. Her little joke makes him smile and even laugh because he knows it’s true... and just like that’s there’s so much WARMTH. They’ve made a connection and I love that Marti looks up at the handle because of course he’s going to let her out of the room and HE is going to be the one to remove that barrier between them.

It’s the first step to repairing their relationship and it’s simple but such a truly meaningful moment and absolutely one of my favourites of the entire season. I KNOW we will get to see more of Marti and his Mamma and I can’t wait.

Now, I need a tissue <3

#skam italia #thank you for your lovely messages and for those asking for this #here you go #thoughts etc #ep9 #marti and his mamma #mamma rametta

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chibivesicle · 5 years

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>>>so this notion seems a bit too ideal to me at least which i picked up from your analysis, for him to desiring to be accepted that much when he previously denied himself a chance to do it. i can't say he was too clouded by his own judgment and only wanted to prove a point by killing his half-brother, he's much more sane to act like that. so i wondered if you really want him to get his redemption arc that badly and support ogata on his way facing all the consequences?

Hello Anon,

I have to admit I’m not quite sure what post you arereferring to directly, so based on your questions, I’m going to have to assume youare responding to my most recent ask here:

https://chibivesicle.tumblr.com/post/185074640517/weve-seen-several-examples-of-ogata-trying-to-win

If I understand your question and thesis properly, youthink that Ogata wanted to be accepted by Asirpa over Sugimoto is too “ideal”. I have to admit I’m not sure what you mean by“ideal”. Does “ideal” mean that Ogatawants to have his emotional needs met and he doesn’t have a right to have his needsmet? Or that he doesn’t feel emotions,so he again doesn’t have any emotional needs? Or something else?

I’m thinking the first definition of ideal since you referto him denying being accepted by Yuusaku before he met Asirpa. If this is what you are thinking, myunderstanding is that you felt that Yuusaku accepted Ogata and that Ogata deniedYuusaku’s acceptance.

So, let’s go back and down the limited information that weknow about Ogata and Yuusaku’s interactions. Ogata and his mom were abandoned by Hanazawa when Yuusaku was born. Ogata and his mom get taken back to Ibarakiby grandma Ogata and she takes care of them with grandpa. Therefore, Ogata grows up in poverty with amom who suffers from mental illness and he wants her wish to see Hanazawa to begranted (it fails).

Ogata is a superior private in the 27th. Yuusaku gets assigned to their unit underTsurumi’s command as the flag bearer. Yuusaku only finds out that Ogata is his older brother while in the 27th. That means someone in the 27thspilled the beans. Now, Ogata obviouslyknows who Yuusaku is when he joins the 27th, he knows who his fatheris, and he knew that the legal heir is a son and must be Yuusaku. One could argue that Yuusaku’s very existenceresulted in the hurt and pain of Ogata and his mother as they get abandoned byHanazawa. If there were no Yuusaku,maybe Ogata would have been adopted as a legal heir, but based on Hanazawa’spersonality, I’d see him trying until he had a son, he’s clearly far to imageworried.

We know from Tsukishima’s flashback that Tsurumi’s Ainu planwas in motion before the Russo-Japanese war. We know that Tsurumi is collecting trusted men before then and duringthe war. Ogata is clearly one of theselect few during the war. Yuusaku’s issue is that he is not the type of man to serve Tsurumi post-war as a partof the Ainu plan. The rumors are that heis of high moral character. Add intothis the fact that Ogata tells us that Yuusaku was thrilled to find out he hada brother. And thus, Yuusaku begins avery one-sided and ultimately hurtful relationship with Ogata. He calls him out in public, calling himbrother in front of everyone and not following rank. He chases after Ogata to interact with himand greatly desires for Ogata to return his feelings. Ogata’s body language towards him is cautiousand distant. He does not socialize withhim and actively avoids him and all of the additional unwanted attention withit.

All of this is not good for Ogata. His personality doesn’t win him many friends,we know from 169 on how Koito says his personality alone irritated people andhe’s the son of a wildcat and he was bullied b/c of the nickname. Yuusaku publicly talking to him likely onlyhelped to stoke the wildcat rumors even more.

Chapter 164 shows Ogata taking Yuusaku out with him in theevening on Tsurumi’s orders. This is atest of Yuusaku’s character to see if he could work with team Tsurumi post waron the Ainu plan. Yuusaku is beyondelated that Ogata asked him to join him but he doesn’t even stop to wonder whyOgata, who avoided him all this time all of a sudden is friendly with him. This is b/c Ogata isn’t doing this for himself,he’s doing this for Tsurumi. Of course,Yuusaku fails the test of character at the brothel and Ogata has him leave discretely. He then talks to Tsurumi about his characterand it shows where Tsurumi may have stoked Ogata’s anger towards him bydropping the line about a “noble” bloodline which Ogata clearly thinks it totalbullshit since Hanazawa is anything but noble.

Chapter 165 then reveals that Tsurumi had come to theconclusion that their original plan to kill Yuusaku is on hold. He’s useful for the time being, butultimately, he’s still a problem. I amstill unsure of Ogata’s test of Yuusaku’s character is something of his owndesign or Tsurumi’s. It may not evenmatter – the situation with the Russian POW shows that Yuusaku is a man who isunable to go against his father’s wishes and has made himself an idol for themen to atone for everyone’s guilt. Thisthen leads to what I see as the ultimate insult to Ogata by Yuusaku; he tellshim that it isn’t right that people like him exist. Ogata is hurting and in pain and Yuusaku hasinsulted his coping mechanism by rejecting him. The entire hugging scene is one-sided, Yuusaku embraces him and crieswhile Ogata goes deep into himself to feel nothing.

Yuusaku never sought to understand or get to knowOgata. He wanted to fulfill his own naïveand selfish desires to have an older brother. But all relationships require both people to be involved and Ogata wasnever engaged with him to begin with.

I don’t think Ogata was proving a point per se by shooting hisbrother, he wanted Asirpa to validate his flawed hypothesis that “pure” peopledon’t exist by having her shoot him. Ogataknows what Wilk was training her to become, he doesn’t see an issue withstarting her on the path to become the next Wilk.

Others and I feel that Tsurumi manipulated Ogata into toshooting Yuusaku; Ogata had no ties or emotional connection to Yuusaku, henever sought him out for brotherly bonding etc. Tsurumi wanted to make sure Ogata would serve him well – he wanted toput Ogata in a position to meet his “needs” and be loyal to him, he thoughtthat Ogata wanted his father’s position and status but for that to happen,Yuusaku and Hanazawa needed to not exist. Oh and as a bonus by getting rid of Yuusaku before the end of the war and then making Hanazawa be a fall guy that lead to the mistreatment of the 7th made Tsurumi’s position even stronger. Furthermore, in 103, Ogata tells Hanazawa that he was never jealous ofYuusaku, instead he wanted to be loved by Hanazawa. One way that could happen was if Hanazawawanted to accept this rejected son; of course, just like with his mother,Hanazawa wasn’t going to find Ogata either.

As far as referring to Ogata as being “more sane” than to shoothis brother – keep in mind that no one has implied Ogata to be insane. I among others have hypothesized that hesuffers from mental illness (depression/self-harm tendencies) but that does notmean that he’s insane. He is hurting anddoes not value himself. Yuusaku didn’tvalue him as a person, Yuusaku saw him as a brother that he wanted but not forOgata. Yuusaku desired Ogata as the concept of him being an older brother.

I already wrote a long analysis on Yuusaku here and thisexplains more of what I’ve just said in greater depth:

https://chibivesicle.tumblr.com/post/182750848382/why-is-yuusaku-so-awkward-with-ogata

I agree with you that during the fever dream Ogata feels guiltyabout shooting Yuusaku; I think Ogata feels guilty about everyone he’skilled. The problem is that his copingmechanism is to pretend as though he doesn’t feel guilty.

The character who has a similar copingmechanism is Asirpa. She was in so muchpain over her father’s death and the departure of Retar that she buried Wilk’sname deep in brain. Both characters tryto push their feelings down to numb themselves. It is just that Ogata is 100x better at this than Asirpa and has beendoing it for much longer. He tries toconsole himself by saying he doesn’t feel anything, but he has feelings b/c heis human and that he isn’t actually lacking something – he tellshimself he is lacking.

The difference between Yuusaku and Asirpa is that Asirpadoesn’t force herself on Ogata. Shedoesn’t follow him around and draw attention to him. Instead, she praises him when he does welland keeps her distance from him even though she wants to be closer attimes. Asirpa treats Ogata like aregular person and doesn’t hold anything against him. This is the major difference between her andYuusaku, she doesn’t have preconceived notions about Ogata, she doesn’t knowhis background all she sees is that he’s good at bringing home some dinner andshe gladly accepts his gifts. SinceOgata is someone who pays others back equally, at times he returns “gifts” toher, by behaving certain ways and doing cultural practices that Asirpa deemsimportant.

The problem is that even though Asirpa and Yuusaku aredifferent and treated him in totally different ways, he can’t pull apart therole of their father’s in shaping them to be idols for various causes. In Ogata’s mind the sins of the father are stilla part of the child. He takesassumptions he learned from Yuusaku and he unfairly imposes them on Asirpa eventhough she’s not the same as Yuusaku. WhenAsirpa rejects him, he’s incredibly hurt and since he doesn’t deal well withhis feelings b/c they are poorly developed and repressed. All of his feelings come pouringout at the same time and he lashes out at her.

He sees himself as good as dead – when Sugimoto gets there, he’s goingto kill him. Why not have Asirpa killhim instead? It is cruel and unfair ofhim but if she did shoot him, he’d have proven his flawed hypothesis that thereare no “pure” people. He’s cornered,desperate and heartbroken that Asirpa will always choose Sugimoto overhim. This proves to him that he’s lackingsomething b/c Asirpa doesn’t accept him as is at that moment.

Getting to your last part of your questions; I’m not aMarvel fan so all I know is that Thanos is the big bad guy in the mostrecent Avengers movie and he’s terrible. I don’t know that much about the MCU but I don’t think Ogata = Thanos.

I think a common misconception about us [the people who areanalyzing Ogata in meta form] is that we believe he’s done no wrongs and he shouldbe given a “pass”. Now, there are a lotof opinions of him in the fandom and many other people on twitter and whatnotbelieve in Ogata getting a redemption arc. I have avoided using the phrase “redemption arc” in my Ogata meta. I personally don’t believe in him getting a “redemptionarc”, I want Ogata to recognize how he’s in pain and hurting. I want him toheal and move on with his life and fully accept how his past actions have hurthim and he will have to deal with them the rest of his life. But since Ogata is coded in a Christiancontext, he very well may get forgiveness for his sins, if he admits that hehas sinned or he may be one of the last who will be first while the first will be last characters … We shall see.

As a fan of Ogata, I want for him to find a place to belong,be accepted, find love and find it in himself to accept himself and love himself. I don’t think Ogata deserves a free pass, butno character in this series deserves a free pass, they’ve all hurt others andthemselves in the process.

Sugimoto is Ogata’s foil, he lashes out with his pain andhurt and inflicts it on others and uses it as an excuse to commit horribleacts. Ogata inflicts pain on himself andtells himself it doesn’t hurt and uses that as his excuse to commit horribleacts. Both men are trying to remove thepain and hurt from killing, but one projects it outwards onto others while theother buries in himself. Neither arehealthy, but they are dealing with the same thing.

Lastly, you seem to dislike the fact that my analyses of Ogatalack self-awareness. Based on your questionyou think that Ogata would be aware of his actions and understand the resultsof his actions and feel more deeply (or obviously) about his actions. Or at least that is how I understand yourstatement…

I can respond to this concept several different ways:

i.) Ogata purposely is burying his self-awareness as his copingmechanism.

This could come out of his melt-down on ice with Asirpa – “youcan do it too, the rest of us have… .” – this is a very decent theory. Ogata doesn’t show self-awareness b/c if he did, he has to change how hecopes with his pain, suffering and PTSD. I personally like this one the best –therefore, I cannot critique his lack of self-awareness b/c he doesn’t wantothers to know about it, including us, the readers. Self-awareness would be a weakness for himand he is trying to survive the hunt for the gold by any means possible.

ii.) Ogata is not asself-aware as you desire him to be.

I don’t know what your life experience is, but every personhas a blind spot in their self-awareness that they cannot see but others can. We are readers who see everything that Ogatadoes so it is easy for people to judge and critique his actions. No matter how self-aware you think you are ofyourself, the older you become, you still miss things about yourself and howyou see yourself. Since Ogata doesn’t activelyengage with most and keeps to himself, he isn’t in a situation whereself-awareness would be a thing he’d be concerned with. He’d have to have friends close enough to himto get him to reflect on his actions and become more self-aware. It is very clear that Ogata has no emotionalsupport from others for most of his adult life so he wouldn’t be too concernedabout being self-aware.

iii.) Ogata’s self-awareness is irrelevant to his character. Instead, Ogata makes rationaldecisions that are flawed but does it anyways.

His mother wants to see his father, so he kills her. His father doesn’t come for her, thus hurtingher and himself. He may haverationalized this as a mercy kill as well, she wasn’t well so what happened toher ultimately didn’t matter. Ogata shotSugimoto from a purely tactical perspective, Kiro said he didn’t need to shoothim, but Ogata knows removing Sugimoto is to their advantage. I also think Ogata was afraid that Sugimotowould end up hurting Asirpa, so no harm in getting him out of the picture. Ogata realized that Tanigaki wasn’t on thesame side at Tamai & co. His reasoningthat Tanigaki killed them isn’t flawed and he again tactically was smart to tryto eliminate Tanigaki – by not killing him, Tanigaki was used by Inkarmat toupdate Tsurumi on their plans. Finally,Ogata fills in the gaps on what he thought Wilk wanted Asirpa to do. He clearly disagrees with this at first butas she stubbornly wants to stick to the path, he gets more desperate to get herto change her mind and when that fails, he just wants it to end.

So, does Ogata need to be analyzed with a character withmore self-awareness? Honestly, I don’t thinkso. I don’t think he’s thinking aboutthings in the context of his own self-awareness – that’s a very modern conceptof thought and not exactly one that people of his time and age would bespending a lot of time pondering. Thesecharacters are trying to survive and come out on top/where they want tobe.

Many readers don’t expect Sugimoto to become more self-awareso why would we expect the same of Ogata? More importantly, why aren’t readers calling for Tanigaki to be moreself-aware? He went on a second revengequest and this time he killed Kiro – there is no way killing the tiger is goingto help him. Ogata has dodged death whenhe wanted; dying on the ice was the easy way out – Ogata isn’t a character whois going to get an easy way out or free pass.

And this has become a giant reply to an ask. My apologies.

#ask #ogata hyakunosuke #golden kamuy #gk meta

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donnerpartyofone · 5 years

Text

21 Questions

Tagged by @getoutofmyhouse who had oddly similar answers to mine

Nickname: only the one I use here, that I gave myself--Claire Donner, which has to do with my famous love of cannibalism. Claire is my real first name, though.

Zodiac: I am so very cuspy. I was born at about a quarter to midnight on April 20, so I tend to relate to, and feel insulted by, the suppositions about Aries and Taurus equally. I’m one of those jerks who will tell you astrology is a bunch of hoo ha...and then drone on with my Many Esoteric Ideas about it, so I’ll just stop myself right here.

Height: 5’ nuthin is what I prefer to say...because saying I’m 5 and 3/4′ sounds a little like saying I’m 10 and a half years old.

Amount of sleep: It’s all fucked up. Until I got into my 30s I could, and would prefer to, sleep endlessly. Now I go to bed around 10 (depression), get up around 5 or 6 (being old), and for extra fun, I’ve developed this insomnia that often keeps me up from about 2am-5am. I try make the most of it by getting up, getting high, watching a movie or two, writing...basically just having a secret private day by myself. I’d really rather go back to just sleeping constantly though.

Last movie I saw: I saw GRETA in theaters tonight, which was ok. I guess I thought any Neil Jordan film would be headier than this, but watching Isabel Huppert just running around acting like an absolute maniac is a rare treat! My last video experience was RAW, which I put on to bother my husband right when we got home from the theater. (I think he liked it more than I originally did, to my surprise)

Last thing I googled: The correct spelling of Sylvia Likens’ last name. I’m obsessed with this type of crime where a group of people (usually a family and/or some of their friends and neighbors) fall into some kind of shared hysteria where they protractedly torture to death an acquaintance for no particular reason. Some times there’s an element of mystery as to why the victim didn’t leave while they were still able to, which suggests to me that the murdered person was just as much a victim of the groupthink as the perpetrators. Other example victims include Suzanne Capper, Vera Jo Reigle, and I think to some degree Sophie Lionnet, James Bulger, and Junko Furuta. (Also a crime they briefly discuss in the book Lords of Chaos, where several people murder a friend in their trailer, but I can’t remember it specifically enough to look up the names--the other last thing i tried to google) I keep thinking there should be a psychiatric and/or legal term for this kind of crime, but I’ve never heard one, so let me know if you got one!

Favorite musician: I have trouble with questions that involve ranking anything, so I’ll just say that right now I’m listening to a lot of old White Zombie. I didn’t know anything about their origins as an East Village noise band, and I’m fascinated by the stories about how apocalyptically miserable it was to be in that group. I’m increasingly obsessed with people who work their asses off doing something they barely even enjoy, for what must be borderline spiritual reasons.

Song stuck in my head: Nothing right this second, for which I am very grateful. There’s something awful in my brain that causes me to wake up with some maddening, babyish tune stuck in my head more often than not. It is most frequently the Ten Little Indians nursery rhyme. This is literally killing me.

Other blogs: @anhed-nia, which started as a dumping ground for long posts about mental illness, and turned into almost only movie writing. at some point there was just so much movie shit that i started to feel awkward about posting anything personal there again. i also got @getoffyrass which is a group blog, and a repository for images that make great drawing references. everyone is encouraged to post their drawings, too, although it is seldom used. i still like having it around, for when i have time to draw. my “real” drawing blog is @neveratendermoment but i don’t draw often enough anymore...

Do I get asks: i used to get tons! i really enjoy them, even the trolls to some degree. i must have seemed like more of a regular tumblr geek girl back in the day. also tumblr has just changed a lot since then. my blog was definitely a casualty of Best Stuff First, i think my follower count stopped dead forever right when that happened, and now that practically every single fucking thing on this entire site is either fandom shit or *discourse*, i really have nothing to offer tumblr anymore, anyway.

Blogs following: 1,057.

Lucky numbers: 2! Also 5.

What I’m wearing: black wool long john pants from Chrome, and a white v neck teeshirt with the words BLACK MAYONNAISE on it in black Rocky Horror font. i live near the notoriously toxic Gowanus Canal, and “black mayonnaise” is the actual term used to describe what’s on the bottom of it, by the scientists who are trying to figure out what to do with it.

Dream trip: i am really excited by travel, it’s hard to pick. i’m hopefully making a dream trip soon though: my father’s mysterious finno-swedish family is from the åland islands, and my husband and i will be planning part of our honeymoon there, whenever that happens.

Dream Job: i think about this a lot, because the older i get, the more i object to the entire concept of having to work to live. i’m into the whole universal basic income thing. i’m at this point where i can barely stand to think about capitalism in any way--like i think about how the need for money is so mortally serious that there’s a lot of physical stuff in the world that only exists because someone was scared of starving, tons of useless products and packaging and factory byproducts and all kinds of fucking straight up garbage that was only invented due to the lethality of poorness. i would rather be left totally alone forever if possible. however, if i HAD to do something and i COULD do anything, it would probably be film criticism. this fantasy takes place in a world where people care so much about what i have to say that i can make a career, not only out of movie writing, but out of only writing about the specific movies i want to write about, referring to nothing other than my personal reactions.

Favorite food: i wish the answer weren’t just “cheese”, but it probably is. also mushrooms. anything cinnamon. i’m a pretty adventurous eater though. the most important thing for me is a variety of flavors and textures.

Languages: english. i took several years of italian in junior high-high school, and did nothing with it. i taught myself to read french pretty fluently, but i would fold right up if someone tried to speak to me. i learned a bunch of swedish on duolingo, shoulda kept it up. i’ll get back to it! i really regret never learning spanish though, so i’m easily torn on what to do with my time.

Play any instruments: clarinet in junior high/high school, also alto sax which i did not enjoy at all, a little guitar. i bought a used electric bass last year that i have really been enjoying, but i feel a lot of guilt around not playing enough. so much of it is just strength training. that’s probably what i like about it, though. also i got a lot of electronic music software and midi controllers and stuff...and then i realized that it could take me months to sort through the thousands of samples i have to program this stuff, and i only got so far into it before i started to get discouraged. i need to get back to it, it’s ridiculous to let that stuff lie around. this is a rare example of me wishing i knew someone local to play with, who could speed me along on how everything works.

Favorite songs: another one of these impossible questions! anybody who is even reading this can probably guess the answers from the handful of music posts i reblog over and over and over. the other night i got all hyperactive and forced my husband to drop everything and listen to “buffalo stance” by nene cherry, which i never ever get sick of. real top contenders for favorite song might be “Stand By the Jamms” by the klf, and this recording, which has gotten me through many difficult hours:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8k1HsF3EvY

https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/sunray-sonic-boom-music-for-the-dreamachine-cd/STRAWB.003CD.html

Random fact: i’m sure i’m missing out on something really funny and cool, but for now it’s just the well-known fact that i read palms.

Describe yourself as aesthetic thing: man, how do i answer this without being totally pretentious? maybe nobody can! i’m coming up with something really hard to describe but it will be worth it. the other day i watched this insane, completely unnecessary movie about lorca and salvador dali (played by robert pattinson) as gay lovers. there’s a scene in it where lorca does that “pick a hand” thing to dali, and dali picks an empty hand. of course, they’re both poor students who couldn’t be buying any gifts, so they do this obnoxious pantomime where dali pretends lorca actually gave him something--but then it turns out that lorca really DOES have something. he opens his other hand and gives dali...SOMETHING. i don’t know what! they make such a big deal out of it, but what the hell? you see it for a second in this closeup, but it’s shot from like, behind and slightly underneath, and it is just unrecognizable. it’s sort of an orange blob? it’s probably meant to be a sculpture. but, i love the idea of doing the “pick a hand” thing to somebody, and the other person is just like...hey wait a minute, what the fuck even IS this??

it reminded me of one of the most amazing things anyone ever did at my school, bard college. this genius art student who I WISH I COULD NAME TO CREDIT HER did her senior project as this like...made up product. i saw them at the senior show, hanging off a spinner rack, like you’d see next to the register in the drug store. they were called Toilet Buddies. they were these plastic, brightly colored objects that looked like toys, but they didn’t have a familiar earthly shape, and because of the title, it was IMPOSSIBLE to imagine what to do with them. so, she gets the lipstick cam from the film department, and shoots this video of herself sneaking some Toilet Buddies into Walmart. then she takes them to the register and BUYS THEM--the baffled cashier looks for them for a while, and eventually just rings them up as a general grocery or something. then in part 2, the artist TAKES THEM BACK TO THE STORE WITH THE RECEIPT AND GETS A REFUND.

so anyway, i see myself as like a fake product--something that looks just familiar enough to exit, and that appears to have a designated purpose, but it’s just kind of cheap and foreign and it becomes nightmarish to try to imagine what to do with it.

I don’t know if anyone i know will want to do this, but i tag @negativepleasure @moviesludge @former-contender @dimestoreman @thefuzzydave @darkarfs @theoddsideofme @blueruins ...um, i don’t really know who would enjoy this. the ultimate would be @garbagenacht

#long post

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hollygopossumlovesj2 · 6 years

Text

Come Back Down, Part 19

(This gif was taken from good ol’ Google. This is not mine and I take no credit.)

Title: Come Back Down, Part 19

Words: 1,937 (kinda short but has a punch!)

Warnings/Rating: PG-13; There are curse words and some depiction of illness. This story is not Danneel positive, but it does not reflect my personal feelings. Please just read this as the entertainment that it is supposed to be. There will be an explanation as to why she is behaving so strangely.

Summary: As the holidays draw nearer, Jensen, Y/N and his family try to celebrate with as much normalcy as they can manage with danger and drama seeming to lurk at every turn.

Come Back Down Master List

Hollygopossum’s Master List

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

In what I can only describe as insanity, I lived through letting Mom and Y/N drag me around to the boutiques in downtown for last minute Christmas Shopping. It was hard to slip away when I felt like I would heave anything left in my stomach and I’d gotten some dirty looks. But, I’d managed. Their happy faces and banter made the sacrifice worth it.

I don’t even want to talk about lunch. Let’s just say I’ll never eat at Ghirelli’s ever again. Then, we’d driven through the first night of the Christmas Lights in another part of town. That had been a relief because I got to sit down and blankly stare out the window without having to control the expression on my face. I had no idea how I would be standing up again, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind for now. Hiding how I felt from everyone was exhausting and I fought to keep my eyes open.

That had been the highlight of the evening, letting Y/N snuggle in close in the backseat while Dad drove us through. My parents had been their adorable selves and held hands while talking about the different displays. It was basically the same displays every year so I was able to let my eyes slide closed and still participate in the conversation.

The only mistake I made was to hand over my hot chocolate with the extra marshmallows to Y/N because there was just no way I would’ve been that giving of my Mom’s homemade hot cocoa in good physical and mental health. Especially when it had been laced with a healthy dose of peppermint schnapps. No matter how important you were to me, I never willingly gave up all of my favorites. Call it a flaw born of being a middle child and having to share with both an annoying older brother and younger sister. I didn’t learn to share. I learned to hoard.

The amount of scrutiny that was received through the rear view mirror made the backseat extremely uncomfortable. I could feel that the flop sweat was only a few minutes away, itching underneath my skin as my abdomen pulsated in pain that had me wanting to curl into a ball and disappear.

Y/N leaned in close, her lips at my ear, her cocoa and peppermint breath a little intoxicating and nauseating at the same time. How was that even possible? “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you, but you’re not fooling anyone. I can feel the heat radiating off of your skin and even in just the dim lighting, I can tell you’re pale and rosy cheeked. So, when you’re done being stubborn, I’m here, okay?”

Suddenly it was a little hard to swallow, my throat felt clogged with relief. Relief that she wouldn’t be upset when I finally came clean about what I’d been trying to keep to myself. I closed my eyes against the rush of emotion that pressed at my eyelids when she grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Okay.”

She pressed a kiss to my hot cheek before settling in next to me in a way that didn’t cause me pain. Like she had already put the symptoms together and surmised the diagnosis way before I had. “Okay.”

I was close to nodding off when we finally pulled into the drive way. The extreme relief of finally being home, with all intention of coming clean and crawling into bed were crushed when I saw her. Well, not her, but her red, flashy Escalade.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that we were here over the Thanksgiving holiday. The last thing I expected was for her to have the balls to show up and for me to find her sitting on the front door step, pregnant as hell. Could she have picked a better time?

“You gonna be okay, son?” My Mom asked, obvious flush on her cheeks from the schnapps and a look of protective steel to her eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that the two women in this car would throw down in one way or another in my defense if I needed them to.

“I’ll be fine.” I answered as confidently as I could, swallowing loudly as I felt the bile crawling slowly up my throat.

Mom gave us both one last look, searching for any indecision before both of my parents got out of the car like they were practicing synchronicity. We watched them go, a moment of silence falling uncomfortably over the back seat as I could feel her vibrating with anger next to me.

“Umm, this is completely awkward.” I heard the livid vibration in her voice clear as a bell as I watched my Mom and Dad walk past Danneel and into the house without a word. Danneel was stung by their inattention, but it’s not like I expected my parents to act like she hadn’t divorced me and then blackmailed me into staying with her.

I squeezed her hand, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and whispered carefully into her ear. “You’re going to go in, sweetheart, and you’re gonna let me handle my own baggage, okay?”

I knew letting all of my misery show wasn’t exactly playing fair, but it worked. “Jensen, you don’t have to do this, okay? You could just ignore her and go inside. We could get a restraining order or something.”

“I know it sucks, but if I do any of those things, she’ll start more of a shit storm than she already has. Besides, if she’s the one responsible for your accident and barn damage, then we need to keep her calm.”

“Fuck, but I’d like to punch her stupid, smug face, Jay. I seriously think it would help me sleep better at night.” The funny thing is, I knew it wasn’t a bluff and it brought a genuine smile to my face for the first time in several hours.

“I know it’d make you happy, but I need you to help me out here and let me get it.”

The angry blue bird was in full force as she nodded her begrudging agreement not to start anything, but to walk past and go inside.

“I’ll do what you think is best, Jay. But, her ass is mine if she so much as touches you.”

“Easy, Tiger. I got this.” I sighed, just the anxiety of seeing her here zapped all of my meager energy. However, as I struggled to get out of the car, I had a sudden moment of relief. It’s like the pain had gone down to a little ache and nothing more. Perfect. Just in time.

I gripped her hand as we walked up the walk way, my heart hammering over time in my chest. God I needed an Ativan, big time. When we reached the stairs, I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. Lingering there as I took in her scent of wisteria and let it relax me.

Then, I squeezed her shoulders, indicating that she should go. She didn’t hesitate, but if looks could actually kill? Danneel would be a smoking corpse. I waited until the door closed before I turned guarded eyes to her. “What do you want?”

“Spending Thanksgiving with an innocent but chronically frumpy country hick? Really classy, and between you and me? I don’t think the smell of horse manure can be scrubbed off if it’s already oozing out of her pores, Jen.” There was a sneer on her perfectly symmetrical face, it leached any of the beauty that she may have held away.

“You know that’s not true, Danneel. You know Mom and Dad would want her here, even if she did smell like horse manure. Of which, I can assure you, I have the privilege of being intimately familiar with every centimeter of her body. If she smelled like shit I think I would’ve noticed.” The words were like a lit fuse, the energy dragging out of me and collecting to form a fallout like the second pause before an explosion.

“Whatever.” She stood, and it gave me a bit of satisfaction to still look down on her. “I’m here because I got served with new papers today. Right in the middle of the grocery store.”

“You knew it was coming. You manipulated me, and this was my lawyer’s answer.” Was it me, or were the edges of my vision a little black and fuzzy?

“You know this is going to paint you in bad light, picking on a pregnant woman, right? A brave woman who’s now on her own because her legal husband is playing house with his fucking country hick best friend.”

She poked her sharp, perfectly manicured nail repeatedly into my chest, and I felt like my eyes were rolling in their sockets when I tried to focus. To be honest, most of her words were lost to the annoying ringing that had taken up in my ears just seconds before. Her angry, pinched face came in and out of focus and I randomly thought that she must be happy that her baby weight didn’t show up in her vapid face.

“It’s also gonna effect Y/N, her reputation, you understand? I’ll make sure she never sells another damn print, Jensen. Is it that worth it to you? For me to destroy her life over your stupidity? All I’m asking is that you rejoin your pregnant wife in your own home. We can raise these babies, together. We could be the family we always dreamed of being.” I vaguely registered her ice cold hand touching my face as her voice started to fade out more and the world began to spin a little faster.

Her voice grew in volume, the one that at one time I thought had been adorable, was making the ringing in my ears escalate into eardrum bursting and the darkness threatened to take over. “You’d do anything to get me back, wouldn’t you?” I was feeling so woozy that I couldn’t even berate myself for only being able speak like the words were forced to filter through a meat grinder first.

“Yes, Jensen,” her relief was almost painful to watch. “I love you. We’re having our babies, finally. You still want these babies. I know you do. That was one of the requirements before you would even marry me. And I was on the same page, I wanted those babies so bad…” I barely registered her hands now sliding down my arms to rest on my nonexistent abs, my breath heaving as I struggled to breathe the air that seemed to be thickening to the viscosity of 50 weight motor oil.

“Including scaring Y/N away. Maybe even getting rid of her permanently?” I was feeling gradually more breathless, my heart fluttering like rapid fire in my chest.

The pause is what gave it away, the pause of silence as I struggled to keep my feet. It was then, as I was struggling to make it stop spinning so damn fast, that there was no doubt that she was responsible.

“Are you kidding me… are you even listening… Fuck y-… Jensen? Jensen?!? Someone, help!!” My thoughts were a little slow, like slogging through marsh mud. My view of the stars disappearing after a sharp pain on the back of my head. Then it was all black. Nothingness. Cool black relief. I don’t know if anyone saw the relief and the smile that must’ve crossed my face. I didn’t feel any pain anymore.

Tagging Forevers: @tas898, @pansexualmeteorite, @mandymoiselle1970, @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @justanotherdeangirl, @weasleywinchester, @easelweasel, @akshi8278, @wheresthekillswitch

Tagging CBD Only: @melissaj616, @katrena7, @deansdirtyduchess, @anticipate1003, @jellersquad, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @shamelesslydean

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ladyaiyanna · 4 years

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The Virtual World - The Scary Truth of that Lawless Tomorrow - A True Insight from Experience

I never quite bargained for writing out here as I found my level of comfort on Facebook until the day the Hackers came and turned my world upside down in hope to blame it on the Corona Virus aka Covid19.

While I am a person who takes things as it comes, I learned the truth of what hacking is and how they victimise a person in order to draw them in impoverished living and poverty and all for the crime of wanting to remain reclusive and aloof, comfortable with myself.

I was always pressured by many a loafer with their badge below the belt about the boons of being a beneficial friend devoid of other favours and I used to politely listen and decline as I was no stranger to working with people, men especially till 2am in the morning and trudging home after that to get ready for the next day at work starting around 8am.

Being the kind of job that I do, my interaction with people is limited to many on set with my personal time being just mine alone to spend with my One Above, family, life and dreams creating lyrical artwork based on everyday living and life’s expressions including emotions etc.

I never entered into agreement with anyone to provide them information and details of my living and let alone cringe myself with my life put on hold to such an extent that it has driven me into poverty living me impoverished. I made a choice in 2017-18 to tell one such person, I am returned back to the way I used to be as all that has been wasn’t ME as I dislike my anger and temper and the way I am becoming and they took it as I was a mediocre who was never fruitful in this world for anything else apart from talking to the selfish famed married them about my personal beliefs.

It was right then and there that I should have been cautious with this person who came to be the nemisis of my past marital agreement that still stands and what’s more the ill-treatment they created was way more greater and bigger than what has been within my marriage. I was never pushed and shoved this way by way of hurt, humiliation and pain beyond my mortal tolerance levels that I was forced to relive the pain and anger of their undue interference in my family life to the extent they took everything from me including my matrimony by way of sleeping with other who used that person to destroy my homefront including bring catastrophe and pain within to the extent I learned it is the way of life where nothing ever comes easily for me unless I shout, scream and abuse quite literally to get my way.

While I am never this way in my personal life, I have learned it is the only way I saw things happening until this hacking took place on the 30th of March 2020 and realised how ill-equipped I had become in my life and dreams with all my equipment broken or in repair as I couldn’t care less because my financial woes thanks to being jobless for about 15 months in the corporate world as Creative Work is considered to be a hobby in a country like New Zealand who had a row with me for putting in a GST Claim for my musical rendition shortly after it was released and was getting ready to venture into new possibilities of waking commericalisation of the same via short films and musical studio recordings. It never materialised as I fell ill from the shock and it took me nearly two years to recover only to be thrown into it again as these bullshitting idiots think all this is a needless waste of time rather than an income generator wherein they gaily listen to overseas music but abhor the local names because they are not as talented as the overseas one.

Wrong!!!! I learned to respect my fellow local artists whom I have seen struggle and cry within the acting and musical world because of the law of economics which defy the minimum wage and many an unwilling creative artist refusing to pay the price for quality enhancements and works for prolific acclaim.

In 2017-18, I was giving up being a recording artist because of the nonsense created by the IRD and my music producers and their label friends who humiliated me for being me because of certain indecencies I refused to partake with them whilst virtually complying to their musical request with me as I changed their building block material into a real musical rendition devoid of copywright issues as I created all material with the producers from scratch and got my copywright certificates from overseas which included endorsing my name as an artist which is also my stage name in the film world. None the less, I had friends, most certainly not the satanists from the Illuminati sect, converse with me, in the good old days when I could on Facebook, before this so to say friend made my life very unbearable in reality as well as online, to get back into the recording studio again and I did. It is what brought about my recording When Angels Cry with another producer in a style that I was quite fimiliarised with from my past rather than the turn of the millennium kind of tune.

It was where my troubles began as there was an affiliation to a group of people who sat around me at the workplace who got to know about this recording, which I had kept secret to segregate my creative life from the corporate world only to find somebody got a hold of my pre-released material and cried me at work to the extent, I lost my health and destroyed my job by way of a redundancy. I was never to work again the corporates but for the same hurt that plagued many an artist and producer around, the lack of recognition of local creative work which has fetched many an accolade in the international film industry and many notable works that I have personally partaken as a small time work of art creating features for them.

I love the world of creativity and have worked hard to build my name and reputation around and only to find these dreams shattered by one single mindless twit who began their insane lustful longing of wanting to be ME and pursing my family and life to the extent they posed as a lover to them too with other company and pursued me from within, hurt my family members including my child and drove me to the verge of bankruptcy since September till date with hardly any work coming in and no one willing to take heed with what is happening.

I have been working with the cops since July last year and things came to pass in December when my family broke away from me and didn’t talk right down till the 28th of March when they spoke for the first time. I was angered, hurt, wound and not to say humiliated to the extent I came to be abusive and correcting the negative feelings was never given to my child by me to the extent I am still mending that relationship as they drove my child not to talk with me since November last year.

I never came back to cry and whinge to the world, just came back to clarify the hurt and pain that I was put through by these people who brought similarities of the words and conversations from three of my family members including anger and humiliation to the extent it led me to believe that this was the underlying cause behind what had happened to my account as this person was a proficient hacker and made no silence about it although the name was withheld from me because I grew abusive with them.

While I am never going to clue much of my life again, it is the main reason why I took it to the cops who never quite took it as a cry for help and chose to condemn my asking the law for help to the extent I did give a hinting of what I was looking at because of the way I had been pursued by them to the police and nearly drove myself to the other side of it post that police conversation which refused to acknowledge there was an issue when I clued them I was logged off, there was no curiosity or willingness to pursue the case in a way I had seen in the month of July upon speaking to a police officer with an American accent who clued he was look in to see what could be done and rendered my account safe back then.

I have never felt so let down by New Zealand as a country who as an unmarried premier head who projects herself as God the mother of life without cluing her behind the scenes hinting the truth of what is happening around is all at her behest. I noted the silent threats from the past but I never quite brought myself to accept the negative truths of the bewilderment it held for me in the future, although I did keep away from bringing my true opinions and views out.

Now I am faced with this prospect of Wait Horse, I’ll give you Grass including the fact that I may need to use my social networking accounts as part of employment rather than social interaction, it hurts me beyond belief that these vultures believe their deluded carrion as they call it is waiting to clue a suspecting predator of a hot date that can be virtually captured on variations of likes and poetry and lifestyle and clothing to bring about an aspect of their paving a way of Continual Income that is not a hobby as Creative artwork is a hobby in this land with many an artist getting brought to payment below minimum pay after filling the fattened tax coffers that virtually implore large business to expand and expend smaller ones like myself as they have better monetary capacity.

I was insinuated and insulted about my bank balance, which no one knew of but my eyes and the virtual authorities of governance and on social networking too. I learned my way of life from all this and learned I had to live with this glass house syndrome as that is what the beautiful natural world of life in New Zealand brings to you as part of their social security procedure of keeping crime levels down while making law abiding people like myself think of social creativity from the other side of the law as suggested by the cops in their silent humility to justice of the law rather than the people they are trying to help.

While I am still playing the waiting game, with an hour and half call recording given to the cops with utmost sickening politeness which reached the end of the tether towards the end stemming a hang up because of the obstinate donkey on the side, I have actually come clean to the world saying I have given thought to the other side of the law thanks to the nonchalance of the cops who were quick to support previous criminals who drove me up the world back in the day to the point of alluding suicide and finding a ride in a squad car to this attitude from them showing they don’t quite care about life, love, family, livelihood etc. because for them social networking is all about Bumble, Tinder, screwing and being an absolute ass in the virtual world not in a business perspective or acumen to the extent that I feel so hurt, shattered and humiliated for being a certified eCommerce Programmer who is relearning programming to work on my own, a Sun Certified Java Programmer who when to be a Project Manager using ITIL and Infrastructure and Firewalls to Customer Management and other derivatives of it in the world of life to create a living.

With today’s lockdown being a proof that life is heading for a digital discourse and virtual reality kind of living, one can only dream of the haven we are creating for cybercrack artists of criminology who see this as a blossoming industry for impersonation, get easy peezy money without slogging and convert it into Bit Coin and speed away to a neighbouring land to create a dream come true living lifestyle without being ever caught for their crime.

It is no wonder the physical crime graphics are fading into cyberland tactics of livelihood as the cops don’t care as they don’t see no money being robbed in their eyes despite dropping them all the clues. Well I thank my stars I have a listening ear with an ardent hand to help another if I can on the correct side of the law but hate to think what a person who is less patient than me is put through the exact similar would do. probably gun them all down, like in the USA and then clue get a few criminal hackers and we will make a living like we did back in the day on the other side of the law.

Well that is my experience with a female New Zealand Cop for you who was too busy baring her teeth with the blaring sirens behind her to even pay attention to the quest of her livelihood which borders on creating security to the public. It didn’t help it was the 1st of April 2020 around time for the belly grub.

Not that they cared I was a former victim of domestic violence and that he worked within servers, networks too with an ex colleague who was documented for indecent assault by yours truly with experience in network and firewalls creation and removal for the telecommunication world of New Zealand. Well the complaint is made virtually as asked by them, made with the United States too and they don’t give a toss as the Right of Equality all in the name of the Lord prevails to the magnitude that lawlessness is just the parallel road to success given in encouragement by the NZ cops themselves as the right thing to do for they have no more time to care as they all film stars now, making COVID19 ads and chomping with mouthful of food giving advice to the world while crime rates around soar showing the change of priorities in everyday living.

So is it safe to say this is the world of Diplomatic Relationships (with the Prime Minister giving consent for backyard real marriages as part of social distancing as a Holy Saturday Gift of the Flesh making word around) using the flags of the Reds in Power, Blue in Game, The Greens and Greys still waving showing the Black, Red, White flag combo made it to the top with an unwed mother showing the thumbs down to law and justice as she is God the Mother of all Nature and life around in New Zealand saying High 5 it’s Beehive calling Level 4 to the rest of the Honey Suckle World around.

I want my Facebook account back, if you don’t have a Credible Cyber Team, point me in the direction to the people who can train me in the skill and I will learn it and become the Cry that others can benefit from without being hacked, broken and made to think of crime as a real prospect of law being given the shrug on shoulder as the sign of the new virtual tomorrow.

By Anisha Achankunju (C) Lady Aiyanna 14th April 2020

#lady aiyanna #nz police #nz politics #cyber #cybercrime #law #facebook #personal thoughts #shame #crime bullies #nzherald #dailymail #dailymailuk #timesofindia

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