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shorkbrian · 3 years

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Stretch and relax pt 2

I have been thirsting.... about Victor.... again.... (pt 1 here)

(Oops forgot to add that Koshka means kitten lol)

He’s noticed you’ve been a bit jumpy around him now. Not that you hadn’t been before, but, well...

Now you try to spend as little time as possible with the man.

And he can’t have that.

“Was I too eager last time? I promise I’ll be more gentle!” He coos from the other side of your door, a pillow under one arm, his other tugging his shirt down as far as he can.

His cock is leaking and heavy between his legs, he’d been thinking about how good you looked today, all that pretty, delicious skin on display, perfect body moving in just the right ways to make him ruin his pants like a teenager. Why use his hand and rely on his imagination when you were just a few doors away?

But you won’t let him in.

“Please?” He pouts, and when met with silence, his frown grows. “I won’t go away until you let me in. I’ll stand here all night and make lots of noise. I just want to relax a little with my favorite little koshka.”

The petname rolled off his tongue with ease, and Victor could almost see your little blush, even though there was a door separating the two of you. Not for long.

“Won’t you let me in? We can give each other massages! If that ends up with us doing something else, I won’t mind-”

The door swings open to reveal your embarrassed little body, frowning so deeply that Victor had a thought to tell you to worry about wrinkles. But at least his teasing and loud voice had worked, spurring you into giving him an opportunity into your room.

“Victo-”

“You’re such a sweetie!” He breezed right past you into your room, depositing his pillow on your bed. A half turn and he was facing you again, a smile on his lips despite your look of aphrenrsive fear. “Want to close the door now? Unless you’d like for people to see us both naked and oiled...”

Again, his desires were achieved with lighthearted teasing - you shut the door so quick that it almost slammed. You’re opening your mouth again, ready to (shyly) ask him to leave, to let you sleep in peace, but Victor has other plans.

And they’re quite fun.

It takes quite a bit of smooth-talking on his part, and more than a small amount of suggestive physicality (you were so tense! Victor was just doing you a favor by pulling you down onto your bed, that’s all) to get you where he wants you.

Underneath him on the bed, wide eyes looking up at him as he shimmies his body down until he can kiss at your tummy through your shirt. “I was joking about the massages, I just wanted you to open the door.” He shoots you a wink, and you quickly blanch.

“Unless you want to strip down and let me rub you all over? I’d make you feel divine little koshka.”

But you shake your head so quickly that your bones pop, and Victor can’t help but laugh.You’re so cute!

You also look uncomfortable, and quite stressed. It probably has something to do with the way Victor’s rubbing along your waist, looking up at you with big eyes as he settles more firmly between your legs.

“Uhm, uhm, Victor, I don’t know-”

“Shhh, I know. I think both of us need to relax a little, don’t you? Look at us! So tense and jumpy!” A quick press of his lips to your clothed tummy has you flinching, wincing away from the intimacy.

Victor is used to smiling his way past refusals, worming his way through with sweet words and such a charming look to get what he wants. You’re not used to letting him in, that much is obvious - but Victor breaks past your defenses anyways.

He knows how nervous you are about your body, so he’s okay with your shirt staying on, draped loosely over your torso. But he needs your pajamas out of the way, just a little so he can get to what he’s really been craving.

And of course you squirm, ask him to stop, to not do this, but Victor doesn’t have to listen. He can grip your waistband and yank it halfway down your thighs, enough so that he can settle back between them and they’re still spread so that he can reach where he needs.

He’s been wanting to taste you for ages.

And you’re so pretty down there, all plush and squishy and pink, like a ripe little fruit, dewy and shiny. Victor can’t help but lick his lips before dipping down to kiss your rosy clit, smiling when it twitches along with your legs, a little cry falling from your lips.

You sound so sweet, Victor can’t wait to hear more of your cute sounds.

So he doesn’t waste any time, flashing you a lovey-dovey smirk before descending to plant his mouth firmly against your mound, listening to your breath hitch and feeling your thighs tense as you whimper out a mantra of “no no no-”.

But yes, yes, oh yes.

You’re soft and delicious and when more wetness seeps out onto his tongue Victor wants to shout “Vkusno!” with glee, but he keeps his mouth on you, slender hands keeping your hips planted to the bed no matter how much you twist and turn away.

Eventually one of his hands moves to intertwine with yours - you keep trying to pull on his hair, tug his face away from the precious treasure between your legs, but Victor isn’t having that. He’d also like to not be bald, so he elects to hold your hand as he eats you out, like a lover.

(And isn’t that what the two of you are?)

He licks you inside and out, up and down and drawing little patterns with his tongue against your puffy little cunt until you’re shaking in his hold, near-wailing from the stimulation. Victor doesn’t want it to end too soon, wants to fully relish this moment, so he pulls back just a teensy bit so he can lick at your plush thighs, give the flesh little love bites that you try to jerk away from.

“Look at you, so tasty and adorable. Doesn’t this feel good?” The man coaxes, before licking a trail back to your wet little hole.

With the way you’re keening, Victor grins to himself because the answer is obvious.

He didn’t expect you to cum so soon.

But here you are, gushing into his mouth after just a little bit of suckling, a little bit of tongue, and Victor feels warmth bloom in his chest, in his cheeks, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations make you yelp, thighs struggling and failing to snap closed around his body.

If he was less of a selfish man, Victor would keep going, just like last time and make you cum until you really cried.

But he had different plans this time around.

“Can I use your mouth?” Like the gentleman he is, Victor asks, one of his hands wrapped loosely around his heavy cock as he waits for your answer. It comes in the form of tearful “No! Please!”.

“Then let me use your hands, or your chest, okay? Which one?” It’s always best to give a choice, because then you feel like you have options, some sort of control over the situation. You pick your hands.

He gives you a moment to breathe, a moment to collect yourself from your sudden (and probably painful from how quickly you came) orgasm before he moved to straddle your waist.

Victor has to physically pick up your hands and wrap them around his cock, making you form a tight hole with your fingers for him to hump forward against.

“Fuck, yes, that feels-feels good!” He breathes, happy and pleased with the pleasure rising fast in his gut, how you’re working with him so nicely.

He takes care of his body, shaves all over so that he’s smooth and soft - hopefully you appreciate the effort, because your hands bump against his pubic bone and balls on every quick stroke.

“Fuck!” Victor cries again, because the pleasure takes over and makes him loose himself, hunching over you and working his hips faster, gripping your hands tighter around himself before-before-

You look so cute, all surprised with his cum seeping onto your skin and into your shirt.

Victor is panting heavily as he slows his hips, still working his cock through your hands as he winds down. You make him feel so nice.

He can’t wait to fuck you.

#victor #victor nikiforov #Yandere victor nikiforov #dark victor nikiforov #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.coercion #tw.abuse of power

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jeromesxreader16 · 3 years

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Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive." I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future. "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered. "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me. "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me. "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska... want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut #Gotham #Gotham City #gotham cast

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lia-jones · 3 years

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Growing Together - Chapter Twenty-Four - Broken

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter mentions and describes panic attacks and contains harsh insults. If you are triggered by it in some way, tread lightly or wait for the next chapter.

And I've had recurring nightmares

That I was loved for who I am

And missed the opportunity

To be a better man

Hoodoo - Muse

He remembered putting a cup together, once. She was lost, and she was hurting, and she was holding on to those shards like they were the broken pieces of her life, and she was bleeding. He held her from behind, offering all his strength, saying her life would be exactly like it was before, he would bring back her past self. She believed him. She let him lead her to bed, and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, only to break down crying the moment he closed the door. Perhaps words wouldn’t help anymore. He would show her.

He spent the night gluing those shards, glass piercing his fingertips, because he believed. He believed in her beauty, and that it should be maintained. He believed in his power to change the outcome, and he would, no matter what it would take.

He looked at the shattered whiskey glass, laying all around his study floor, and he wondered if he was staring at the broken pieces of his life now. He wondered if, like that other glass, he could still put them back together. But most importantly, he wondered if he believed. He believed in her beauty, and that it should be maintained, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. He didn’t know if he believed in his power to change an outcome, because all roads would lead to the same destination: loneliness.

Almost out of habit, he took a deep breath and got up from the floor, assuming his usual strong and stubborn attitude. He had no idea if he could make it, but he would try. He would bleed as much as necessary, but he needed to see that glass whole again. So he picked up all of the shards, one by one, and started putting them all back together.

He woke up hours later, with the sound of voices coming from his kitchen. But they weren’t the happy voices he was used to. They were hoarse, almost whispered, but mostly tired. He looked at the glued pieces on his desk that hardly resembled a glass. Maybe some things can’t be glued together. Maybe some things are irrevocably broken.

For a while, he allowed himself to believe he could also be put together, letting her lovingly handle his broken pieces, admiring how she dutifully and joyfully fit them all together. But the pieces he would let her see wouldn’t stay put, because there were other pieces he would never allow to come to light, and those were needed for a perfect fit. Eventually, those were the shards that mattered the most, the ones that would hurt her. His ugly side. And now that it showed, he could only accept himself as broken.

“What do you think you are doing?” He could still hear his father, in the back of his mind. “Crying won’t bring her back. Now quit being weak and go do something worthy of your time.”

Victor did what he did best, he swept the rest of his shards into a dark corner, and surrounded his heart with an ice cage, which was sturdier than glass. He got up with all the determination he could muster, hoping to chase away the tiredness in his bones, forcing himself to face the world.

He found his family having breakfast, Andrea at the counter, pouring herself some coffee, as Owen sat at the table, eating scrambled eggs.

“Do I really have to?” He heard his son complain.

“I’m sorry, Bug, but yes, we have to.”

Victor opened the kitchen door.

“But it’s the teacher’s last day tomorrow, and we prepared a farewell show for her. And she said she would show us pictures of the baby inside of her.” He whined, poking some food on his plate. “We made her a drawing and…” The boy trailed off, staring at his father with wide eyes.

Crack.

The scared look Owen gave him, so similar to the one he had when he came to their home, felt like a punch in his gut, shaking his icy wall violently. Owen feared him. Victor had lost his son’s trust.

“You’re up.” She spoke tentatively. “We tried not to wake you up.”

Her eyes were puffy, with large dark circles under them. It was clear that she had been crying all night.

Crack.

“I need to get ready for work.” He retorted, walking to the door.

“Wait, I need to talk to you… Victor!”

Victor ignored her, trying to get out of that kitchen as soon as possible. Although he deserved it, it hurt to see his family so distant from him, obviously upset by the way he had been acting for the last couple of days. He decided to avoid the situation completely, opting for a shower and change of clothes instead. Chances were that by the time he was done, Andrea would already be gone to take Owen to school.

The walls around his heart shook again, a major crack running deep in the icy surface, as he noticed an item on their bed. The open suitcase, filled with folded clothes, felt like a dagger stuck in his chest. Crack.

“Me and Owen…” He heard her behind him. For some reason she couldn’t continue, so the silence hung cold between them, as he kept staring at the suitcase. He wouldn’t be able to look at her anyway.

“I forgot to tell you, Olive asked me to go to Queensland, there is a potential partner there she wants me to talk to.”

Victor stood in place, as the ice he used as a defense mechanism was now spreading all over his body. His eyes never left the suitcase, as it could somehow spring into action and shred him to pieces.

“I’m taking Owen with me. The nanny is coming along as well. She will take care of him while I’m working. I'm considering spending a few days there, maybe try to visit the castle.”

You’re leaving me. Crack.

“You don’t have to worry about LCG, Diane will be on top of things and you can refer to her at any time. And me. If you want to.”

Fuck LCG. You are leaving me.

“I…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Things are not well between us. I’m not well and you’re not well. I figured we could use the time apart. Maybe talk when I get back.”

So you can serve me the divorce papers. Crack.

“It will be only for a few days.”

A wave of nausea hit him before he could say anything else, so hard that he thought he would vomit right there and then. But he knew this was something else. He needed to run, he needed to run fast. The walls were becoming unsteady, shaking with the feelings he wouldn’t let out. He had made that mistake last night, letting his anguish show, and despite his best efforts, it all came out in an ugly explosion, crashing her in its path. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“Fine.” He croaked, trying to look as stable as he could, and he moved to the kitchen.

He held onto the marble counter with shaking hands, feeling drops of sweat drip from his forehead. He was so hot, he was unbearably hot, and the heat only made him sicker, a disgusting lining of pasty saliva on his tongue. He did his best to ignore his symptoms and remain focused, and only with great effort was he able to fill a glass of water and bring it to his lips.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you breathing like that?” His father’s voice echoed in his mind once again. “Control yourself, you look like a retard!”

He felt the cold marble under his fingertips, taking the time to compare it to the warmth of his body. He took another sip of water, focusing on how cool it felt on his tongue, feeling it soothe his queasiness.

Steady…

He paid attention to the sounds surrounding him, noticing his son’s voice as he talked with his mother from the bedroom wing, their voices vibrating through the apartment’s stillness. It was then that he noticed that he was alone in the kitchen. Alone. It was probably for the best, he didn’t want anyone to see him behaving so ridiculously, sweating and shaking like he was a drug addict.

I am alone.

She hadn’t followed him. Under normal circumstances, after such a conversation, she would’ve stormed off after him, pleading with him to talk, demanding a reaction. She just let him go. But what could he expect, anyway? She was an abuse victim, and he had thrown a glass at her. He remembered the frightened look in her eyes, probably the one she used with that abusive piece of shit of an ex, as she ran away from him, scared that he would beat her. Victor would never do such a thing, he wouldn't think of it. But then again, he never thought he would throw a whiskey glass at her, and he did. Not that he wanted to hurt her, he just wanted to make her go away. But still, he did.

No matter how hard he tried, he would always hurt the ones he loved. His mother’s fate was to die alone in Paris, in some random hospital room, with faceless nurses witnessing her final moment. Mina, who so dearly took him and supported him through those trying times, also died alone on the kitchen floor, with a stroke. He was, as usual, too busy with his life, with his empire, too busy to call, too busy to reach out to the woman that practically raised him, and that same woman, who was always by his side when he needed her, didn't have him when she needed him the most. The guilt was agonizing, but it felt like a very small price to pay for being so cruel.

“You are poison. Bound to kill everything you touch.”

Maybe he was like his father, his father did the exact same thing with him. He ignored his son, and made him feel so small in his life, because everything else was so much bigger, and no matter what Victor did, he could never get his father’s love. Andrea saw through that immediately. Her accusation was as accurate as it was painful, Victor was doing the same thing with his family. He was alienating them, and Victor wasn’t even sure anymore why. It was pain, but it was also pride… Not that it mattered.

Victor tried to take a deep breath in, wanting to calm the turmoil in his mind, only to find he couldn’t, like some invisible hand was crushing his lungs from the inside. He held on tight to that counter, trying his best to steady himself, as his vision started to blur and another wave of nausea came. The glass Victor was holding shattered on the kitchen floor. If that was him, if he fell on the ground and broke into pieces, no one would come to put him back together. Rightfully so, he didn’t deserve such kindness.

“Victor!”

He could barely see or breathe, let alone hear her, as a crippling fear took over. All he knew was that he was getting his deserved punishment, to die alone on the kitchen floor, just like he let Mina die, while his family bantered in the other room. He felt a deep stab in his chest, so painful that he lost control of his legs, and started to fall. He would break into pieces and die there. That was his end.

Except he didn’t. His fall was broken by something soft and warm, and arms enveloped him, as he was slowly guided to the ground.

“It’s alright, I’m here.”

He felt her hand touch his. He grabbed it like it was a lifeline, like it somehow could save him, as panic was fully taking control.

“You’re having a panic attack.” Her voice sounded softly in his ear. “It will go away, but you have to breathe deep for me, can you do that?”

“I… I can’t breathe. I think I’m having a heart attack.” He wheezed. “Andy…”

“Yes you can, you just have to stay focused.” She gave his hand a light squeeze. “Here, can you feel this?”

He felt his lungs burning with each shallow breath, making it impossible for him to speak. He nodded.

“Just focus on that feeling. When I squeeze, you try to inhale as deeply as you can. When you exhale, you squeeze back, can you do it?”

Victor’s vision was more distorted by the minute, a wave of dizziness making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Gonna... pass out…” He warned.

“It feels that way, but you are not going to pass out, you just need to breathe. Here, I’m squeezing. Deep breath in…”

Victor ignored the pain in his chest and inhaled as deeply as he could, letting out a ragged breath after.

“See? You can do it. Let’s try again.”

He focused hard on the warmth of her hand and on his breathing, following her instructions as best as he could. The pain in his chest seemed to subside a little.

“Is Dad ok?”

Owen.

Victor’s breath caught in his chest again, as panic flooded his mind.

Owen.

Owen, please don’t look at me.

“Everything’s ok, Bug, Dad will be ok. Go to your room and wait for me there.”

“Is he dying?” He could hear the boy cry.

He grabbed Andrea’s hand tight, begging for help. He was dying, and his son would see it. His chest felt tighter, the air wouldn’t come in, he was having a heart attack, it never had been this bad, he could feel it.

A thousand scenes flashed into his mind, all agonizing, all begging for his attention. His father’s voice spoke with disdain as he laid on the floor, fighting to catch a breath.

“You are pathetic! Is that how you intend to carry our name?”

He was just a child. How could he be so callous?

“You’re not alone, I’m right here. Just squeeze my hand and breathe in.” His wife squeezed his hand tight. He squeezed back, forcing in a painful breath.

“Focus on my voice.” She spoke again. “It will be over soon, I promise.”

“Hello? Mister?” Owen cried. “My Dad is dying, we need help.”

“No, Owen, don’t!” She urged. “Hang up the phone, nobody’s dying!”

“He can’t breathe, and my mom is holding him…”

“Owen! It’s ok! Dad will be ok!”

This was his darkest hour. He was that glass in the study, shattered beyond repair. And still, Andrea held all his shards, ignoring the sharp edges piercing her skin.

“Don’t worry, Owen will be ok.” She spoke to him in a soft voice. “Just focus on your breathing.”

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

… can you forgive me?

Author's Note: This project has been going for a year now (it started in February 2020) and it won't be over any time soon, so I would like to ask you, as much as possible, for your support, because we still have a very long way to go. So, if you enjoy the work, don't forget to comment and reblog. It gives it traction and enables other people to learn about it, and for me to get more excited about what I do.

#victor mldd #angsty victor #mlqc victor #love and producer fanfic #li zeyan #Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

Headcanon: Weekdays with you

Snippets of life with Kiro, Victor and Gavin

F L U F F

🌻KIRO

[ Morning ]

Waking up is a struggle for your little sunshine

Sets ten alarms on his phone with 1 minute intervals between them

You sympathise with him, knowing that his days are packed with rehearsals, photoshoots, fan-meets, sneaking snacks into his mouth when Savin isn’t looking, running away from Savin when he gets caught, etc.

So you adopt a more encouraging approach:

“You’re going to miss out on breakfast. I made the pancakes extra fluffy today.”

“...”

“If you get up now, I’ll wear your fan t-shirt over the weekend. The yellow one with a hundred Kiro faces printed on it.”

“...”

“Didn’t someone say that it’s been a long time since we last showered together?”

“...!”

When he’s more-or-less conscious, he stares at you with wide puppy eyes and puckers his lips

You give in, responding to his antics with a quick peck on the forehead

“Go brush your teeth. You’ll get your reward later.”

He becomes much chirpier after freshening up and getting his kiss

Beams widely when you set his breakfast plate down in front of him even if it’s just a plain sunny-side up

“Miss Chips, your cooking just keeps getting better! Should we open a restaurant after we retire? You can cook, and I’ll be the mascot.”

Definitely demands for goodbye kisses

[ Afternoon ]

Kiro video calls you during lunchtime because just hearing your voice isn’t enough

He also wants to make sure that you’re actually eating

Cheekily slips in a suggestion for you to include fewer vegetables into his lunchbox next time:

“The vegetables deserve to live.”

On the screen, you see Savin whacking him on the head lightly with some rolled documents on your behalf

Props Apple Box onto his lap to show you its newest outfit

(pretty sure that golden retriever owns more clothes than you do)

The two of you seldom eat out for dinner because of Kiro’s highly-noticeable hair

“And obvious charm,” he adds.

[ Evening ]

Depending on how early you end work, you’d either cook a simple dinner or get takeaway

And also restock the tidbit shrine in the living room

After dinner, you and Kiro play the Wii Fit to aid digestion

But end up with stitches because both of you keep making the other laugh

When you’re unable to sleep, he sings you fractured nursery rhymes while stroking your hair

“Baa baa black sheep have you any chips? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for Kiro and one more for Kiro, and one for the pretty Miss Chips in my arms.”

“Kiro... it doesn’t even rhyme...”

🌹VICTOR

[ Morning ]

Victor’s alarm goes off at 5am

He isn’t worried the sound would wake you up because he shuts it off almost instantly

Knows you wouldn’t stir even if the sky collapses anyway

If the weather is good, he heads out for a morning jog

If it’s raining, he’d grumble resignedly because he knows it’s going to be an even greater challenge than usual to coax you out from under the covers

Since he has a head start to the day, he finds ways to add special touches to breakfast

For example, drawing pictures on the omelette using tomato ketchup, doing latte foam art, etc.

Spends the remnants of his quiet morning reading the business news and answering emails

At around 7.30am, he wakes you up with a string of ‘threats’:

“I’ll cut your company’s funding.”

“Your report is due in 5 minutes.”

“There’s a spider on your arm.”

Would literally carry you out of bed if you refuse to get up

The breakfasts that Victor prepares are divine in both presentation and taste

He tries to vary cuisines every few days so you wouldn’t get bored

He isn’t the type to demand for goodbye kisses

Instead, he sometimes wears his tie slightly slanted so you can fix it for him

He strikes when your guard is down, leaving you a blushing mess

[ Afternoon ]

Most communication is work-related, occurring via email

If you happen to find pictures / videos of cute animals, you’d forward them to him

Victor usually doesn’t reply

But Goldman has witnessed Victor smiling while using his phone on numerous occasions

The sight haunts him.

[ Evening ]

Picks you up from work and takes you out for a nice dinner

Enjoys a cooling evening stroll in the park after dinner to aid digestion

Towels your hair dry after your shower

Not-so-secretly enjoys your shoulder rubs while he works at his desk

“Oh? Is that a smile I see on Mr Victor’s face?”

“No.”

If you have trouble sleeping, he’d tell you bedtime stories

“Or would you prefer if I read you the very first proposal I received from a certain dummy?”

“No thank you, that would just give me nightmares...”

Gives you a goodnight kiss (or two if you insist

Tucks you in tightly so you don’t kick the blankets (or him) off the bed in your sleep

🎐GAVIN

[ Morning ]

Gavin is an early riser

He spends the first 15 minutes of each new day thinking about how fortunate he is to be waking up next to you...

...and also waiting for the numbness in the arm resting beneath your weight to go away

Thinks your light snoring is the most melodious sound in the world (apart from your laughter and the way you say his name)

Once he finally feels his fingers again, he carefully extricates his arm and heads out for a morning run

While he can prepare simple dishes like eggs and cup noodles, it’s his mission to give you the best possible start to the day

So he usually buys your favourites from a nearby cafe

After he returns home with breakfast, he tries to wake you up by shaking your shoulder gently

When he’s done with his shower, he realises you’re still asleep

Finally wakes you up properly after peppering ticklish kisses on your face

Sets up the table with breakfast and coffee while you freshen up

Sends you to work on Sparky

Gets a little pouty if you forget to give him a goodbye kiss

“Thanks for the ride Gavin.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm? Nope, I’ve got my bag.”

“[coughs lightly] ...Sparky says you forgot to say goodbye to his owner.”

[ Afternoon ]

Gives you a call at noon to remind you to have a proper lunch (while eating cup noodles himself)

Gives you a call an hour later to check if you have had lunch

Gives Minor a call right after to verify

(It’s Minor’s favourite part of the day)

[ Evening ]

Picks you up from work and brings you anywhere you want to go

“My evening is all yours.”

Winding down for the two of you involves watching television on the couch

He enjoys pressing random kisses on the top of your head while your head leans on his shoulder

“Mm... I haven’t washed my hair yet.”

“Want me to wash it for you?”

“Yes please.”

If you’re unable to sleep, he’ll count sheep, or talk to you about the future

Whenever he returns home past midnight after a long mission, he’d find you asleep, snuggled comfortably with his pillow in your arms

“Thanks for keeping her company, Softie.”

#cheri tries to write

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

I hunger for blakeworther content and spent a while trying to think a prompt lol

But..

Remember blakeworther but college?

So uh, what were the threes thought process when finding out feelings for the other?

Oh, oh okay, so at first I forgot the “thought process” part of this ask and I was plotting out an AU story that involved being locked in the basement of a library slated for demolition during the senior year of undergrad, doing lewd things in a space that was being monitored by cameras because they all thought they were gonna die and it’d be their last chance to do lewd things, then getting rescued but finding out that a mutual enemy locked them all in there on purpose so they joined forces to ruin that person’s life, up to and including identity theft and running up false charges on their credit card, because that person is the reason their confession and a couple hours of public indecency are on tape

ANYWAY, WE’RE JUST GONNA FORGET ANY OF THAT EVER HAPPENED.

This is internal monologues only, no story

Vincent about Victor: “He’s perhaps the closest friend I’ve ever had. The only one I haven’t wanted to eventually just get my space away from. One of the few people I tolerate. No, more than tolerate. I enjoy being around him. He has good taste, and he brings a sense of levity to me, and...oh no.”

Vincent about Albert: “I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him. I hate him so much that I’m already planning our next thirty interactions. I can’t wait to get to class so I can show him up this time and prove I’m better and get him to PRAISE me. Wait, why do I want that so desperately...oh no.”

Victor about Vincent: “I’m glad we turned out to be friends after all. He’s not bad-looking, either. And we’re on the same page most of the time, which is refreshing. I haven’t had that in a while without being called manipulative. I understand Vincent, and Vincent understands...oh no.”

Victor about Albert: “I don’t see why Vincent hates him so much. Well, I do, but I simply do not carry that hatred. He makes me smile. I enjoy being around him. Though I almost envy Vincent having such a fierce rivalry with him; it must be wonderful to have such a charged relationship. But why would I want that if he’s already my friend...oh no.”

Albert about Vincent: “I just hate him. Even though I wouldn’t want to have this experience without him trying to emulate me. I hate when I try to outdo him and he’s not even there. I want him to be around all the time so we can compete and feel alive. But that’s just rivalry.”

Albert, years later, when Taylor flips over his Rorschach tests: “Oh no.”

Albert about Victor: “He’s...a friend? Who respects me and doesn’t think I’m creepy? I’ve never had this before! My stomach is flipping like I’ve eaten live butterflies! My heart is racing! Truly this is friendship of the purest kind!

Albert, after he’s stared at his drawing of Vincent for a while and asks himself how he feels about Victor in that case: “Oh no.”

#victor blake #albert krueger #vincent edgeworth #blakeworther

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laughing-with-god · 4 years

Note

QQ has me shaking in my boots ✊🏻👏🏻 but I’ve had a lingering question for the last few days; if the rest of the BTS members were in QQ, what districts would they be from? Love your work 🥺❤️

oh my god, okay here me out; an alternative Quarter Quell Fic were all past victors must play again and all the bts members are victors who come to play the quell but they somehow all become yandere over Y/n.....Lemme know if that’s something ya’ll would like to read. Anyway, here ya go;

(Btw I’m gonna base these profiles on the crackhead idea I stated up above, except I’m not going to do Jungkook and Tae bc they’re already in my Quarter Quell Fic and their games are being played right now so I don’t feel right doing profiles for them...it’ll deadass confuse me.)

BTS as Victors (Hunger Games AU)

Kim Seokjin- District One (Luxury)

Jin originates from district one, most would say that he figuratively hit the birth lottery by being from this district.

The first district is essentially the crown jewel of the capitol, it’s by far the most favored. The main job of district one is to provide the capitol with all luxury items, so most people make their money by creating jewelry and makeup. (Both of which are in extremely high demand in the capitol, so 1 is by far the most economically flourishing district.)

Jin never had to suffer food outages or abuse by peacekeepers because of 1′s good status with the capitol. To further his prosperity, Jin’s father was actually the mayor of district one.

Which makes Jins’ reaping all the more scandalous.

There was a rumor that Jin’s father expressed sympathy towards the damaged and less favored districts (11 and 12).So when Jin’s name was reaped, people suspected that the system was rigged and Jin’s name was going to get called out either way. Because after all, how would the capitol keep a loud-mouth mayor in check? By putting his son in the games, of course.

No one volunteered in fear of interfering with the capitol’s plans and getting in trouble.

However Seokjin fancied himself an actor and practically skipped to the stage with a big grin on his face, announcing his name proudly and even stating that it would be an honor to compete on behalf of his district.

His strategy was to get on the good side of both the audience and the gamemakers. Unlike other tributes who sometimes couldn’t help the look of terror they had, Jin made sure to constantly look happy and would even compliment the gamemakers in his interview by saying things like, “This game is going to be the best one in years, I could already tell.” “I caught a glimpse at the makers during my assessment and let me tell you...they’re not playing around this year.”

Because of this Jin wasn’t the target of any foul play or natural disasters bc the makers held no ill will towards him, if anything a lot of them actually wanted him to win.

He earned himself many fans and thus sponsors, mainly due to his good looks and partly due to his surprisingly goofy nature.

Jin was always sure to keep his attitude light. He constantly made jokes and did impressions in the arena, showcasting his humor bc the last thing he needed was to be painted as the bad guy. His number one rule was to always keep his fans satisfied. That kept him alive.

He stuck to the career alliance; teaming up with his district counterpart, two and the girl from four. He stuck with them because he knew he would need the numbers and the supplies. But a bit more than halfway through the games, when the careers took down all the main threats, Jin zipped up all the tents that his sleeping allies were in, took a good amount of supplies and set the camp on fire; effectively killing the career pact.

For two days after that he wandered alone but was having trouble with basic survival skills. Unlike more than half the tributes, Jin grew up in a city with no true sense of nature. He was struggling.

That’s when he came across a boy from 11 and a girl from 7. They both were rather weak and Jin offered them protection in exchange that they let him stay in their hideout with them. But when 11 and 7 were under attack, Jin fled and let them be killed.

Jin eventually had to go against the last tribute standing; a girl from 6. She was also frail and only lasted that long because of her hiding skills. Jin overpowered her and threw her off a mountain. Thus, he became victor.

He still is to this day one of the most popular victors and a really good mentor (although he mainly just advocates for having allies, using them, then killing them before they can kill you.)

because of his good looks, he is often sold off to elite women and men for a night with a handsome victor. Jin has no choice, it’s the only way he was able to make the president forgive his father. (Think of Finnick Odair).

Choice of weapon; spear, betrayal (all his allies will eventually end up killed by him)

Arena

Min Yoongi- District Six (Transportation)

District Six is responsible for all methods of transportation the capitol has. The hovercrafts, the high-speed trains and advanced cargo ships are all products of 6.

Citizens from six are heavily oppressed by the peacekeepers. Although not as poor as 11 or 12, they are one of the more rebellious districts. It’s also the largest district and the most unstable, lots of the population suffer from a morphling addiction which is party responsible for the citizen’s disobedience.

Yoongi came from a lower middle class background, raised by a single working mom who fell victim to the morphling epidemic. Needless to say she was very absent from his life.

Life at six is so bleak, when Yoongi’s name was reaped his first thought was ‘well, at least I won’t die in this shit hole.’

He was very numb due to shock so he appeared very aloof when he went up to the stage; a total contrast to his counterpart who was bawling her eyes out.

He managed to keep this stoic act up for the entirety of his time in the capitol, his thought process was that he never wanted to give the capitol the satisfaction of seeing him break.

He mainly enjoyed all the food and luxuries the capitol had to offer, thinking that he had no chance of winning and might as well enjoy his last days.

It wasn’t until his interview where even the host forgot his name that he realized that he might have a secret weapon under his belt; no one knew who he was, he was forgettable, someone who other tributes overlooked and even underestimated.

He went to his mentor with this revelation and was told to go the ‘Joanna Mason route’.

Ie; play weak and stupid until there’s only a few tributes left, then release your inner crazy and kill them all before they ever even saw you coming.

Yoongi figured it was better than nothing and decided this as his strategy.

Yoongi had no help of sponsors or allies, all he had was himself. But that’s the way he wanted it.

He hid for more than half the game, his small stature making it easy for him to hide into small nooks and crannies. He survived mainly on small plants, insects and any rainfall he was able to get.

It wasn’t until he witnessed someone die near one of his hideouts that he allowed his murderous side to snap.

It was a fight between a girl from 5 and a boy from 9. The girl had knives while the boy had an ax, the girl managed to get him in the throat and he fell over dead. After the girl searched his pockets for supplies, she turned around to stalk off, unaware Yoongi was only yards away.

Yoongi silently got out of his hideout, took the ax and ran up behind her before chopping her head off.

There was only four tributes left and Yoongi hunted them all down, tired with how long this game was taking and desperate to get home.

he managed to kill them all, the tributes being caught off guard bc of his excellent hiding skills

He became one of the youngest victors of all time, he was only 14.

As a mentor, he’s actually pretty absent.

Yoongi doesn’t like to get too close to the tributes because it becomes too emotionally crushing to eventually witness them die.

His general advice for them is to lay low and never draw any attention towards you, the factor of surprise is the ultimate weapon for those with patience.

Yoongi has never been the same since the games, he isn’t proud of it but he’s also become dependent on morphling; it’s the only thing that keeps his nightmares and depression away. (Like Haymitch, except Haymitch was dependent on alcohol and Yoongi is dependent on drugs)

He despises the capitol even more now, hating the fact that they made him a murderer and he was forced to play into the very game he promised to never have a part of.

He lives with that guilt everyday and doesn’t think he’s any better than the ruthless career kids he sees every year

He’s quite belligerent too. He is almost never given mentor interviews or screentime because he’s blown up one too many times that the hosts know to avoid him. (Think Joanna Mason and the one catching fire scene where she flips shit on national tv).

Weapons; hiding, ax

Arena

Kim Namjoon- District Three (Technology)

District three has some of the smartest tributes, and Namjoon was no different.

District Three is responsible for all the high-end technology the capitol has; the people may not be as strong as two or as flashy as one, but their intellect alone runs the capitol.

Kids from three are good at creating functional tools, codes, wires, ect. But sadly, these traits don’t translate well into the games given the clear advantage towards physical superiority over intellectual superiority.

Namjoon was determined to show the capitol how far a smart kid can go.

Like most tributes, Namjoon went into a little bit of a shock when his name was reaped.

He walked up, void of any emotion and avoided any eye contact with the district representative or the female counterpart.

When he was escorted into the room to say his goodbyes to his family is when he finally broke.

But his mother made him promise to do anything to get back home, she didn’t care how dirty he had to get she just wanted her boy to live

This encouragement/promise was enough to motivate him to become the last one standing, he didn’t care how gory he would have to get.

He utilized his mentor heavily, talking their ear off and asking countless questions. Soaking up any information/advice he could get, knowing it could very well be the difference between life and death.

His mentor advised him to choose the Beetee Latier strategy, telling Namjoon that if he just got his hands on some tools and put his mind to it he could be the most dangerous tribute in that arena.

During his training days Namjoon spent all his time in the rope stations, net stations and hook stations, knowing that his future plans would require him to be good with these skills.

During his interview, he hinted to the audience that he was very smart. He was careful to not make it obvious enough to make him a target of the careers but enough to raise the interests of the sponsors.

His personal score was also good, making the act of getting sponsors a little bit easier.

When the game began, he ran off from the blood bath but not too far. He stayed close enough to watch who left and with what supplies. With this knowledge, he began to track the people who had the tools he would need to play out his plan.

He would track these people very slyly, waiting until their guard was down to swipe their supplies.

With these supplies he would build traps and set them up for tributes to unknowingly walk into. His favorites were bear traps, snatching nets and digging up 8 ft deep holes then covering them up with debri for tributes to stumble into.

He managed to kill a decent amount of tributes before killing off what was left of the career pact.

However, Namjoon wasn’t able to avoid hand-to-hand combat forever.

When it came to the end, it was between a male tribute from 5, a girl from 2 and Namjoon himself. Both tributes had weapons while Namjoon didn’t.

He fought with them and got stabbed and sliced a good amount, but even with his fatal blood loss and fading consciousness, his brilliant mind came up with a plan.

He staggered over to one of his traps, making the tributes think he was just trying to run away when the truth was he was trying to lure them to their deaths.

They took the bait, got strung up into a net before being electrocuted to death.

The last words Namjoon heard before he blacked out was the head gamemaker announcing him victor.

Namjoon is now one of the greatest mentors of all time. Whenever it’s his turn to overlook the tributes of his home district the chances of 3 winning goes up 50%

He is very good at strategy and has even helped the gamemakers create certain arenas for future games.

namjoon teaches his students the importance of staying calm and sticking to a plan. “When kids are scared, starving and fighting for their lives they’re very easy to pick off. Utilize that.”

Weapons; stalking, traps

Arena

Jung Hoseok- District Eight (Textiles)

Hoseok was a victim of the reaping gamble. (The process in which kids will enter their names in the reaping bowl more times than required in exchange for food)

Hoseok is the oldest of four children, his mother died with the birth of the youngest child and his dad died years later due to poor health via the unlawful work conditions in the factories. (District Eight is responsible for all the clothes the capitol has, this means the vast majority of citizens work in factories. Eight is also very oppressed so peacekeepers beat citizens and hand out punishments often.)

Hoseok dropped out of school in order to help provide for his brothers and sister. He is the only one working and he refuses to let the second to oldest child drop out of school to help him. He just wants his siblings to get their education so hopefully they can end up with manager positions at the factories and wouldn’t have to suffer the awful conditions/abuse average factory workers go through.

Hoseok is used to putting his name in more times than needed. Of course it means his panic is through the roof when reaping comes but when the names are called and he’s not one of them, he walks away with a relieved heart and bags full of food for his siblings.

Hoseok depends on that food, because it saves him up to three weeks of salary and he can use that money to get his siblings some new clothes that they had to wait all year for. Along with some small gifts in order to make up for the birthday’s Hoseok wasn’t able to afford.

Since this was his last year of being eligible for the reaping, Hoseok made sure to add his name more than usual, hoping to get more food so he could spread out the money for even longer.

So in a way, when his name was called, he wasn’t completely surprised.

But he was heartbroken, realizing that in his effort to provide for his siblings he may have robbed them of yet another caretaker.

When it was time to say goodbye, he tried his hardest to be strong and promised them he’d come back.

On the train ride over to the capitol he was completely inconsolable, unable to sleep at the prospect of his siblings having to watch him die on national tv.

He went through the motions of the first days at the capitol, but it wasn’t until the training days begun that he was approached.

it was a girl from 10 and she was only 13 years old. She asked him if he had an ally and if he would be interested in working with her. Hoseok was about to say no when he fell silent, the girl reminded him so much of his younger sister that he couldn’t help but want to protect her.

They made an alliance.

And it was working rather well. Turned out the girl from 10 was very handy and knew how to keep her and Hoseok alive. The arena was a freezing arctic and she skinned polar bears in order to keep her and Hoseok warm, later cooking the meat for them to eat.

Most tributes that year died via freezing to death, very little fighting was done.

Not the career pact though.

They found Hoseok and the girl from 10, holding him down and forcing him to watch as they tortured her.

Eventually she died but he would never forget her screams for help.

This was enough to make Hoseok snap.

So he did.

Hoseok became a monster, broke free and killed the pact. There was only three (two boys, one girl), he stabbed one in the throat, strangled the other and tracked the fleeing girl down before holding her head under the freezing water till she drowned.

Hoseok won.

In a way he’s glad because now him and his family live on victor’s row and no longer have to worry about their next meal.

But his sanity will never be the same....

He is the kindest mentor, mainly because he knows that the majority of them won’t be coming back so he’s sure to be very nice and always offers to look out for their family when they eventually die.

Arena

Park Jimin- District Four (Fishing)

Jimin volunteered for the games, an act that was surprising to everyone and anyone in four.

It’s not that Jimin wasn’t strong, it was just that he didn’t seem like the type to hurt people and he was mainly just known as a really sweet local fisher boy.

People wondered how such an angel could even think of volunteering, much less actually win the games...

(Rumors even spread that he must’ve been suicidal or in serious debt, why else would he volunteer?)

But he strutted up confidently and announced his name, holding a certain benevolence that made him seem self-assured in his own ability.

Jimin was already acting like he won the games before he even got to the capitol.

He never really showed any anxiety or distress, he talked to the escort and mentors very casually....as if they were all old friends.

He also was extremely close to his designers/stylists, he allowed himself to get spoiled by the pampering and new clothes/makeup. (This also could’ve been part of his strategy. Most tributes could care less about their team but by Jimin becoming close to them, they most likely were more motivated to get him the best clothes, jewelry, makeup and overall helped him get more fans.)

Needless to say he became popular very quickly, he was by far the most attractive tribute and his laid back/flirty personality was infectious. For the first time ever a tribute’s concept was sex appeal, something that was unheard of for tributes to do because of their young age.

During his interview when asked about his strategy, Jimin just shrugged cutely and said “I’m a very lucky person, I doubt this will be all that hard.”

he buttered up the careers very nicely, they all basically just saw him as eye candy with lots of sponsors, not an actual threat.

Little did anyone know, Jimin was actually playing a very intelligent game that requires lots of manipulation.

His main objective was to stick with the careers until more than half the tributes were gone, then he would turn the careers against each other.

It would start off really slow and deliberate; going to one career and saying “This isn’t any of my business, but I heard (blank) talking in their sleep about offing you.” Or going to another and saying, “Don’t you think it’s weird how (blank) is acting? Maybe they’re thinking about killing us and winning this thing for themselves.”

He creates chaos and distrust and watches as they slowly turn against each other.

Eventually the careers would begin to kill each other, the alliance crumbling all thanks to Jimin.

Jimin would wait until only him and another career remained. At this point the career would realize that it was Jimin who destroyed the alliance...but it would be too late.

It was a girl career and although she was strong, she was no match for Jimin who dragged her to the swamp and held her head under water until the cannon sounded.

He would then kill the remaining two tributes, a piece of cake since he only kept the careers around to off the bigger threats, only weak kids remained.

Wins the game and becomes one of the most popular victors of all time. (Although it’s still a mystery as to why he volunteered, a lingering question Jimin has always refused to answer.)

Because of him a new strategy in the games was born; The Jimin game (ie; get in an alliance, use the alliance for supplies/food/protection, then when all the big tributes are gone plant a seed of deception into the allies so they all turn against each other)

Also because of him tributes began selling a more sexier side of themselves. (Esp tributes from four bc Jimin mentors them into it so that they can get more sponsors)

Jimin also frequents the capitol often, being an A-list celebrity and receiving special treatment whenever he comes around. Unlike Yoongi, Jimin fully embraced his role and is always ready to give out interviews or guest on shows.

he also sells himself to elite capitol women, not because he was forced to but because he enjoys the sex and gifts that come with it (sugar baby)

Although there is one catch to sleeping with the infamous Park Jimin.....you have to tell him a secret worth his while.

What he’s planning to do with these secrets....no one knows.

Arena

#bts

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stilydinski · 4 years

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Anime Pretty Boys™️: A List

So basically no one asked but all of a sudden I felt the need to make a top 10 ranking list of some Pretty Boys in animes I could think of so why not share with the weebs.

To clarify: When I say Pretty Boys I mean pretty and not hot in general ! There are so so many more attractive characters out there but this is a list of guys that just look so incredibly beautiful it makes me want to bawl my eyes out. While I ofc would sell my organs for tons of anime boys, these are just the ones that make me go "mmhhhmm pretti" before thinking they're hot or whatever. I hope this makes sense aha ha.

10. Chisaki (My Hero Academia)

Those of you who haven’t seen the show might be asking yourselves what’s up with that mask but let’s just ignore it (masks are a thing everywhere now anyways right? man’s just staying safe ssjsj). Basically when I first saw this man I was speechless because wow his face is so ?? intense and pretty at the same time. The hair is casually messy, the eyes boring into your soul and the ear piercings are just hot. Also his style??? hot damn?? i mean the jacket he always wears looks so mf expensive and the suits like Yes Sir fuck me UP but at the same time he is so intimidatingly pretty that I wouldn’t mind joining the bad guys here. However because of the high hotness factor he’s lower in the list might be the dangerous aura who knows

9. Sesshomaru (Inuyasha)

Basically this man has more elegance than anyone could ever obtain. The way he always wears this fur thing on his shoulders just as a statement and never gets it dirty or loses it? an icon. Everything from the hair to let’s call it the “make up” to the outfit is just on point and you won’t ever catch the man slipping. This is the only character ever that could make me disregard the fact that he’s technically a dog demon and over 500 years old and just let him step on me.

8. Daisuke (Fugou Keiji: Balance:UNLIMITED)

I don’t think I need to say much here. First time I saw this man I was legit already on my knees without knowing a single thing about him. Some of you might say he’s more hot than straight up pretty but I beg to disagree because he is genuinely one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. Now I do agree that in comparison he certainly can be considered more hot which is why he’s a little lower on the list however you can’t tell me that his face wasn’t shaped by God personally.

7. Usui (Kaichou wa Maid-sama!)

ON GOD if this man asked me to marry him I would not hesitate for a single second. Effortlessly pretty, the flavor is immaculate, never tasted anything like this before. Not only is he the perfect man but his face is so insanely pretty. Now Usui’s more of a casual beautiful because his face doesn’t necessarily have something outstandingly special but as a whole there is just not a single flaw.

6. Victor (Yuri!!! On Ice)

Now, you can’t tell me the hair doesn’t hit different. The man literally looks like a Greek God like that’s just a FACT we all know that, he knows that, Yuri knows that, the other Yuri knows that. Man's literally chosen to do the most elegant sport looking LIKE THAT as if he wouldn’t completely change figure skating forever. His face is so pleasing to look at because he just has this angelic aura around him that makes you think he came down from heaven personally to raise the bar for us all.

5. Yato (Noragami)

Let me just say what we are all thinking: EYES. I can’t think of anyone with prettier eyes and that’s for a good reason. Yato’s not a God for nothing, the godly looks are very evident even if he’s a little bruised up in the gif. His face is perfect, the hair looks elegant and yeah the eyes are just mesmerizing. Homeboy might be spotting a track suit at all times but damn he can wear it while living his Immortal Pretty Boy Life.

4. Guren (Owari no Seraph)

This one’s a funny one because let me tell you I know absolutely nothing about this man. I have not seen the anime and I barely know his name but I saw this man a few weeks ago and when I tell you I almost started crying I mean it. It’s hilarious how this man could be the biggest asshole who murdered my family and I’d still think he’s insanely beautiful. Now I sadly can’t get into this as deep as with this others because I have zero knowledge about him but the fact that he was the third person I thought of when making this list even if I don’t know him should say enough for now. Face is 10/10, he’s living that pretty boy lifestyle doing whatever it is that he does but god does he look graceful while doing it.

3. Shoto (My Hero Academia)

Now THIS. This is interesting because can you BELIEVE that this incredibly handsome boy does not even KNOW how pretty he is? Looking like that he would be allowed to have such a huge ego but he isn’t aware of the facts??? The two colored hair and eyes are both iconic and groundbreaking. His face just screams pretty boy in every possible way and on god i would do anything for him to realize that. Everyone in Class 1A knows how beautiful he is except him?? I could write you a three pages essay on how beautiful he is and that would just be the outer appearance without getting into his great personality. I would be ready to declare my love for him on 10 pages in four different languages but let’s not get into that now.

2. Akaashi (Haikyuu)

I honestly don’t even know how to start this. Akaashi is one of a kind. I lie awake at night thinking about the fact that he is so insanely beautiful and I wonder what the creators were thinking. Imagine you wanna create a volleyball anime and while drawing someone who is not even on the main team you come up with this? What kind of process goes through your head?? How could you publish a character like this knowing no other character you ever draw will ever live up to his pretty face? I wouldn’t know how to act. Looking at Akaashi is the most pleasing thing and the fact that he is not only crazy pretty but also has the best personality just sends me over the edge. No one’s doing it like him. This man can have my credit card, my house, my family and my liver, he can take it all and I would still worship him like the God he is, thank you.

1. Howl (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Ladies and gentlemen, may I announce the prettiest Pretty Boy of all time. This wouldn’t be a list of Pretty Boys without Howl. The man literally invented being pretty and god is he dramatic about it. Most of us probably count him to our childhood crushes. Remember when he said “I don’t see a point in living if I’m not beautiful” because he accidently dyed his hair black? I have never seen anyone this dramatic but of course his ego is big with a face like that I mean if I looked like THAT I would act up too. I would drop everything for this man and that’s on Sophie leaving behind her life to live in his castle yeah i know she didn’t do it for him back then but lbr i would. Anyways Howl literally said I support the ugly community but it ain’t me and it’s true, if you look up Pretty in a dictionary his picture will show up. I honestly don’t know what else to tell you because Howl leaves me speechless on a regular but that’s fine.

This marks the end of my list, please let me know if I forgot someone. If you made it this far with reading this mess thank you for keeping up with my amazed ass, i’ll go cry over how beautiful everyone on this list is now. I will probably regret the rankings in a week from now so don't mind them too much

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kaile-hultner · 5 years

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Dialogues With A Dreg, Part Four

Spoilers for Destiny and Destiny 2 ahead.

Hello, Guardian.

Let’s drop the allegory for a while. I don’t think it was working to begin with, and I prefer to speak plainly instead of in prose.

I love the game you serve as the protagonist in, at least mechanically. Part of the reason I’ve put nearly a thousand hours in piloting you around and clicking on enemy heads is because I’m chasing that satisfying “pop” when something’s brain explodes after I get them with a linear fusion rifle. I guess it’s better than being addicted to drugs or alcohol or video games with gambling mechan- oh shit god dammit wait, fuck, there’s Eververse here, I forgot.

Anyway, Destiny 2 has my full buy-in when it comes to gameplay, as I think it’s grabbed many folks in its three-year lifespan. I’m not as big a fan of the many modes to choose from in the game, and I think the story – when looked at holistically – is more-or-less a wash. But one aspect I can’t ignore is one I’ve tried to reason out in these Dialogues: Bungie, the game’s developer, wants me to live at least part-time in this world, and there are certain ramifications that come with that.

I first noticed these ramifications during the Faction Rallies in D2Y1, when it asked me to pick a faction and fuck shit up across the solar system. I picked what I thought was the coolest-looking faction, a group of (it turned out) thanatonautic, neoliberal warmongers calling themselves Future War Cult. They basically killed themselves over and over to see the future, and as a result they want Guardians everywhere to become absolute war machines. But as far as I could see, they were a “better” option than the other two factions: Dead Orbit, who just wanted to get the fuck out of the solar system and away from the Traveler, our slumbering charge, and New Monarchy.

New Monarchy is the MAGA hat gang of Destiny 2. They want to keep humanity safe by locking them inside the Last City, forming an eternal Guardian-led kingdom, and ruling with an iron fist. Yeesh.

In my first Faction Rally, I fought hard for FWC. I liked the gear they were giving me, not to mention the guns I could earn from them. They had an aesthetic I liked, and the story of thanatonautics is interesting enough for me to want to know more about how all that worked. But I didn’t like the insistence that we “reclaim” the far-flung reaches of the solar system, as if they belonged to us inherently. I didn’t like the ramping-up, constant drumbeat for war they were throwing out. Even if Lakshmi-2, FWC’s leader, seemed like the eye of a hurricane – calm, yet clearly still dangerous – the hurricane she was the center of was starting to irk me.

I’m sorry to say I didn’t drop FWC in subsequent Rallies, even if I wasn’t as enthusiastic about them as I was initially. If I could pick again, though, I know now I’d pick Dead Orbit. They had it the most right, plus Peter Stormare plays Arach Jalaal, the faction’s leader, which is just cool.

But the winner of pretty much every rally was New Monarchy. I couldn’t see the appeal, even if you stripped the clear trump-ass bullshit away. But a LOT of other Destiny 2 players fought for them, and they were the victors constantly. Bungie took the Faction Rally away in D2Y2, but it basically put me on an inexorable thought track to where we are today.

Simply put, I think the world that Destiny 2 is advocating for is at best a fascist one. At worst, we’re talking about reinstating the divine right of kings. Not only does mortal humanity lose in this bargain, but every other living creature inhabiting our solar system suffers for it as well.

Now, Guardian, I can see that this is an unwelcome statement to hear. I get it. After spending the entire five years of your existence thanklessly putting around the solar system and killing gargantuan, god-level threats to humanity and life itself, watching some nerdy, doughy writer cast aspersions on everything you do probably extends past irritation and into wishing you could shoulder-charge me into Glimmer particles. But I want to be clear: yours isn’t the only video game world – or even the only sci-fi world in general – that does this. As Nic Reuben (the original Destiny 2 fascism warner) put it in his 2017 post on the subject, Bungie writers are “blindly following a set of culturally encoded science-fantasy tropes”:

“‘True leaders are born. It’s genetic. The right to rule is inherited.’ Any time you play as a really, really ridiculously good looking person killing mobs of ugly things for a vaguely defined reason, you’re witnessing this kind of ideology first hand.”

One thing I would like to point out, though, before we continue: Guardian, I know you personally. I’ve fought as you across the stars. I know you don’t inherently want to rule over anything. You are intentionally a blank slate, you never voice your own desires except for that one time when a possessed Awoken prince killed your best ramen bud, and I want to believe that the only thing you want — which is the only thing I want — is to race Sparrows on Mars. But the version of you I play as is not the only version of you that exists. There are over a million of you. And aside from that million iterations of you that exist in this game world, there are others who absolutely want to rule. It’s high time to interrogate this world.

Fantasy Space Fascism: The Game

In his book Against the Fascist Creep, freelance journalist and Portland State Ph.D candidate Alexander Reid Ross defines fascism as “an ideology that draws on old, ancient, and even arcane myths of racial, cultural, ethnic, and national origins to develop a plan for the ‘new man.'” He continues:

“Fascism is also mythopoetic insofar as its ideological system does not only seek to create new myths but also to create a kind of mythical reality (ed. emphasis mine), or an everyday life that stems from myth rather than fact. Fascists hope to produce a new kind of rationale envisioning a common destiny that can replace modern civilization. The person with authority is the one who can interpret these myths into real-world strategy through a sacralized process that defines and delimits the seen and the unseen, the thinkable and the unthinkable.

“That which is most commonly encouraged through fascism is producerism, which augments working-class militancy against the ‘owner class’ by focusing instead on the difference between ‘parasites’ (typically Jews, speculators, technocrats, and immigrants) and the productive workers and elites of the nation. In this way, fascism can be both functionally cross class and ideologically anticlass, desiring a classless society based on a ‘natural hierarchy’ of deserving elites and disciplined workers. By destroying parasites and deploying some variant of racial, national, or ethnocentric socialism, fascists promise to create an ideal state or suprastate – a spiritual entity more than a modern nation-state, closer to the unitary sovereignty of the empire than political systems of messy compromises and divisions of power.”

Ross, A. R. (2017). Against the Fascist Creep. AK Press.

The Destiny franchise begins with you, a freshly-reborn Guardian, shooting and punching your way through a hive of vaguely-arachnid aliens your Ghost companion calls “Fallen.” You find a decrepit jumpship deep in the heart of the Old Russia Cosmodrome, which your Ghost fires up and uses to take you to the “last safe city on Earth,” a walled metropolis underneath the Traveler. You first meet with the Vanguard triumvirate, Titan Commander Zavala, Warlock Ikora, and Hunter Cayde-6, and then, after completing some tasks for them, you are granted an audience with the Speaker (voiced by Bill Nighy):

“THE SPEAKER: There was a time when we were much more powerful. But that was long ago. Until it wakes and finds its voice, I am the one who speaks for The Traveler.

“You must have no end of questions, Guardian. In its dying breath, The Traveler created the Ghosts to seek out those who can wield its Light as a weapon—Guardians—to protect us and do what the Traveler itself no longer can.

“GUARDIAN: What happened to it?

“THE SPEAKER: I could tell you of the great battle centuries ago, how the Traveler was crippled. I could tell you of the power of The Darkness, its ancient enemy. There are many tales told throughout the City to frighten children. Lately, those tales have stopped. Now… the children are frightened anyway. The Darkness is coming back. We will not survive it this time.

“GHOST: Its armies surround us. The Fallen are just the beginning.

“GUARDIAN: What can I do?

“THE SPEAKER: You must push back the Darkness. Guardians are fighting on Earth and beyond. Join them. Your Ghost will guide you. I only hope he chose wisely.”

Bungie. Destiny. Activision Entertainment, 2015.

This introduction to the world of Destiny is… shockingly reductive. Even playing the campaign when this happens, my first thoughts were, “wait so we’re not even smart or good enough to hear the children’s scary stories about the history of this world? what the fuck?” But over the course of years, we find out more and more about the so-called Golden Age of Humanity, the tools humans built with implied assistance from the Traveler, the various rich families and corporate megaliths that consolidated power over people across the solar system in the years and decades leading to the arrival of the Darkness and the ensuing Collapse.

Not only that, we start to get a pretty clear image of what life was like immediately following the Collapse. Humanity was almost driven to extinction, and the people left alive after this apocalypse soon wished they were dead. The Traveler “defeated” the Darkness but in the process put itself into something similar to an emergency reboot mode. It deployed the Ghosts, who resurrected people who could, as the Speaker put it, “wield its Light as a weapon,” but the first of these “Risen” were nothing short of horrific. They used their Ghosts’ regeneration and resurrection powers to become regional warlords, subjugating what few mortal people remained, draining the desolate wastes of what few resources they had, and basically sealing the deal on the “Dark Age” brought on by the Collapse. It wasn’t until the advent of the Iron Lords that these warlords were defeated and the “age of Guardians” could begin, but even the Iron Lords did some pretty heinous shit – like use a whole town of mortals as bait to lure in a band of warlords on the run.

But when it comes to creating a mythical reality, the Speaker has his formula down pat. Don’t get too bogged down with details, paint the conflict in stark good vs. evil, literal “Light vs. Darkness” broad strokes, and mythologize the actions of Guardians (but most importantly, our Guardian). And oh, what fodder for mythology we are.

By the end of the first campaign, we’re the hero who severed the connection between the Hive, the Vex and the Traveler and tore out the heart of the Black Garden. By the end of The Taken King, we’ve slain a god-king. In the Rise of Iron expansion, we stop the spread of a virulent nanoparticle with murderous intent called SIVA in its tracks, using nothing but our fists. In Destiny 2, we become the Hero of the Red War, the one who put an end to a Vex plot to sterilize all worlds, and who killed a Hive Worm God. We avenge our fallen Hunter Vanguard, we kill a Taken Ahamkara. We are the hub on which the spokes of history are turning.

In terms of video game power fantasies, I really truly can’t imagine a better-feeling one. It’s basically pure uncut dopamine being transmitted directly to the pleasure centers of the brain, one Herculean feat at a time. And if we were the only Guardian, if we were not part of a larger world, if everything around us was in a vacuum, I don’t know if I would be writing this article. But Bungie has been very clear about wanting to make a world where our actions do materially affect our surroundings. As such, we are essentially a walking propaganda tool for the Consensus, a pseudo-democratic government over the Last City, consisting of faction leaders, the Vanguard and the (now-presumed-dead, hasn’t been replaced) Speaker.

The Consensus wants badly to declare the advent of the New Golden Age, a time in which Humanity can finally emerge from under the shadow of the Traveler to pick up where it left off prior to the Collapse. The problem we supposedly face is the never-ending onslaught of Enemies. Four alien species showed up on our doorstep after the Collapse, all seeking to finish us off (according to the Speaker): the Fallen, the Cabal, the Hive/Taken, and the Vex.

Of the four-ish races of enemy, only one can said to be truly, deeply “evil” in the sense the Speaker intends: the Hive and Taken, led by Taken King Oryx and his sisters Sivu Arath and Savathun, the only force in the galaxy more fascist than the Guardians. The Vex are a race of machines whose only focus is on making more of themselves, a threat similar to SIVA. The other two alien forces, the Fallen and the Cabal, are certainly antagonistic toward Guardians but our initial reasons for fighting them are, frankly, butt-ass stupid. Basically, we fight them because they’re there. They have the audacity to land on planets that “belong to us” and scavenge resources from them. Until the Red Legion showed up on Earth, we basically only ever fought Cabal on Mars, and there’s really no reason as to why.

The Fallen, or Eliksni, on the other hand, end up coming off more as the tragic victims of our flippantly rampant genocidaire practices than actual “enemies.” They’re probably the weakest alien species we come up against. Their backstory involves them living in peace under the Traveler before their entire society was caught up in a Collapse-like “Whirlwind” and destroyed. Rather than give them Guardians, like it did with us, the Traveler instead just up and peaced out, leaving the Eliksni for dead against the maelstrom of the Darkness. The surviving “Fallen” got in their skiffs and desperately chased the Traveler across the heavens, stratifying the remnants of their society into “houses” and developing religious devotion to machines like Servitors in the process.

They tried to take the Traveler back at the Battle of the Five Fronts and Twilight Gap, and lost. Their armies were shattered, and we’ve been nonchalantly killing them en masse ever since. They are the “parasites” our Guardian must exterminate, along with the Hive, Cabal, and Vex. When we make friends with, or even simply allies with, a Fallen (like Variks the Loyal, Mithrax the Forsaken, or the Spider), it is made clear almost immediately that this 100 percent doesn’t change the relationship we have with the Fallen as a group. Variks is absolutely subservient to Mara Sov and the Awoken. Mithrax wants to create an Eliksni House that bows down to Guardians and Humanity for being “better stewards” of the Traveler than the Eliksni was. The Spider makes it clear that he only wants to grow his crime syndicate, but that we can help him out if we want. Never once does the Vanguard or the Consensus reach out to these allies and try to broker peace. And in-game, we simply don’t have an option but to fire on and kill Eliksni in droves. Kill or be “killed,” right?

When it comes to Humanity itself, while we never get a chance to actually leave the Tower and walk through the streets of the Last City, there are at least hints as to the deep class stratification at work here. You can’t get much more on-the-nose than an ivory tower of immortal beings overlooking an enclosed human race. Guardians atop humanity, the Speaker above the Vanguard over the Consensus over the people, and you, the very fulcrum on which history pivots, functionally over everything else. But in the mythical reality of this game, it’s really the Traveler über Alles, and humanity underneath the Traveler has become a wonderful, diverse melting pot without class, without fear. An ideal state where the walls keep Darkness at bay and humanity can discover the joys of tonkotsu ramen yet again.

A Light Story Vs. Lore Steeped in Darkness

Destiny has a reputation, unfairly earned, for being an okay game with a bad story, or at best a nonexistent one. The story isn’t really all that bad, it’s just poorly implemented up front, and I think my willingness to engage with the game’s world to the extent that I have is a testament to how powerful and evocative some of the beats in Destiny’s writing truly are. If we dissect the game we can separate the writing of the “story” from the writing of the “lore,” and in watching the plot develop over the past few years, we can see a gradual unification of these two areas start to occur.

This is helped greatly by third-party resources like Ishtar Collective, and by mechanical decisions Bungie made in D2Y2. Adding the lore back into the game with Forsaken was a good idea; choosing to fully integrate the lore into the world starting with Season of the Forge was a great one.

A side-effect of this lore-plot unification is a dismantling-in-real-time of some of the game’s most beloved and widely-spread legends, like the legend of Shin Malphur and Dredgen Yor. Even our personal legend is challenged in this way, and it’s a really neat way that Bungie writers new and old are critically engaging with their work. But it also really throws into stark relief some of the issues I’ve laid out in this article so far.

Take, for example, the lore book “Stolen Intelligence.”

Presented to us as intercepted secret Vanguard transmissions, “Stolen Intelligence” shows us exactly what the Vanguard really thinks of our actions, and what their goals really are. It was part of Season of the Drifter, which overall had a “trust no one” vibe to it, but some of the entries here are BLEAK, y’all.

Here’s an excerpt from the first entry, titled “Outliers.”

“Fallen armed forces continue to fall back from active fronts across Terra. Factions of House Dusk remain active in the European Dead Zone. Throughout the rest of the globe, refugee attack incidents have dropped by more than 70 percent since the conclusion of the Red War – largely attributable to depressed Fallen and human populations rather than any significant change in interspecies relations.

[…]

“The recent trending emergence of so-called “crime syndicates” (cf. report #004-FALLEN-SIV) is emblematic of the continuing destructuralization of Fallen society. Likely an artifact of multi-generational colonization of human strongholds, this agent believes that because these syndicates have no relation to indigenous Fallen culture, young Fallen are appropriating and imitating human mythology in absence of a strong cultural heritage of their own.

[…]

“VIP #3987, another former confederate of the Awoken, is a lesser-known personality known as Mithrax. Scattered field reports suggest that like #1121, #3987 styles himself a Kell of the so-called “House Light,” an otherwise unknown House apparently founded by #3987 himself. We have secondhand accounts that Mithrax has engaged in allied operations with Guardians in the field, though we have not as yet been able to corroborate these accounts with any degree of veracity. This agent is inclined to treat these reports with a healthy degree of skepticism until otherwise confirmed, as they may be propaganda from Fallen sympathizers in the Old Russian and Red War Guardian cohorts. We have requested intelligence records from the Awoken which may further clarify the matter.

“In addition, whatever the findings of said intelligence records may be, it should be stressed that one or two sympathetic outliers cannot be relied upon to erase the wrongs of past centuries, nor should their good-faith efforts to correct the sins of their forbears be taken as sufficient symbolic reparation.

[…]

“We have come too far to pull our punches now.”

Bungie. Destiny 2: Forsaken – Season of the Drifter. Lore Book: Stolen Intelligence. Outliers. Activision Entertainment, 2019.

Here’s another piece of “Stolen Intelligence,” about our relationship with Cabal Emperor Calus:

“Related to the above, #3801’s aggressive propaganda campaign appears to have been successful. Despite #3801’s recent inactivity, sentiment polls captured in the Tower at regular intervals over the last several months indicate that he has successfully swayed a significant percentage of the Red War cohort to believe that he may be a potential ally. Given our history with the Cabal as well as the events of the Red War itself, this is shocking and perhaps attributable to a case of mass traumatic bonding.

“It is my strong recommendation that the Vanguard pursue a reeducation curriculum before #3801 invites any Guardians of the City to defect to his service, a possibility which we have documented in multiple previous reports.”

Bungie. Destiny 2: Forsaken – Season of the Drifter. Lore Book: Stolen Intelligence. Passivity. Activision Entertainment, 2019.

Other entries detail the efforts of the Vanguard from keeping ostensible “conspiracy theories” from being published in the Cryptarchy’s journals; show the apparent oddity of mortal-Guardian “integrated neighborhoods;” and discuss the ongoing surveillance of the Drifter, a rogue Lightbearer who has survived since the early Dark Ages and who uses Darkness-aligned technology to run a PVEVP game called “Gambit”.

There are many other stories like these, scattered throughout the lore. Stories of Cryptarchy students being banished for making fun of New Monarchy’s leaders, of Guardians messing with Hive technology being burned alive and killed fully by the Praxic Order for their crimes of experimentation. Stories like these wouldn’t happen – couldn’t happen! – to our Guardian, because they’re too important, but are seemingly everyday occurrences to less consequential members of this society. In the real world, we’d call that an increasingly oppressive police state. In Destiny 2, it’s just flavor text.

There was a degree of narrative complexity added to Season of the Drifter that hadn’t been in the game prior. The entire season was essentially boiled down to “which side are you on, the Drifter’s or the Vanguard’s,” and in our path to make a choice, we heard from various bit players in our world. The Drifter told us his story in greater detail than perhaps we needed (and how much of it is true is debatable), but his story is also the story of a less morally-pure Guardian class. Everyone from the warlords to the Iron Lords did heinous shit to humanity while the Drifter watched, and it hardened him. The Praxic Warlock Aunor goes all in on her adherence to the City’s propaganda and ideology, trying to show us how untrustworthy the Drifter is. She ends up revealing more of her order’s goals than perhaps was wise.

This narrative complexity is nice, but it still betrays the game in a fundamental way. We now have the documents. We know what Guardians are actually about, and how they’re not exactly shining beacons of unwavering good like the Speaker would have had us believe. Regardless of declining Fallen activity, of a shift in Fallen culture, of actual living Fallen who want to ally with Guardians, the Vanguard is still adamantly pursuing “extirpation,” which is a fancy way of saying genocide (I’m not kidding, it literally means “root out and destroy completely”). We know the Vanguard and the Praxic Order have a hard-on for exile, reeducation and information suppression.

On top of everything, the narrative complexity was not met with any kind of mechanical complexity. Even with proof that the Vanguard wants to kill every Eliksni in the system, conscientious objectors don’t get to opt out. The narrative path that forks between the Drifter and Aunor converges again by the end of the quest. The “conspiracy theorist” that has been trying to publish paper after paper detailing exactly how the Nine worked with Dominus Ghaul to sneak his fleet into City airspace undetected was proven right by lore WE FIND IN THE GAME, but that doesn’t change our combat relationship with the Cabal remnants anywhere in the system, and homeboy still gets his papers rejected.

Ikora and Zavala, our remaining Vanguard members, insist repeatedly that Guardians are not a warfighting force, that the Vanguard and the Consensus is not an authoritarian organization. But everything we do says otherwise.

“A peace born from violence is no peace at all.”

Guardians do not get to choose their paths in the world of Destiny 2. The paths laid out before them lead to a life of warfare, of pain, of endless murder. Ostensibly, they are agents of good, trying to beat back the forces of evil, but if you look too close you see that really they’re just a bunch of indiscriminate killers with a mandate from the Orb God. Desperate to get out from under the heels of warlords, the Guardians created a fascist society, and adding insult to injury they pretend it’s a democratic, free one. Killing the Fallen is genocide, but you can literally never stop killing them because the game won’t let you. The only right way to play at that point is to turn off your console and go outside.

Destiny 2 isn’t the only video game to fall into this trap. As Nic Reuben said in the follow-up piece to his first story on how Destiny 2 is fascist, “I’m not saying Destiny is propaganda, just reliant on some of the same narrative tricks that make propaganda so powerful. At the same time, I don’t think that it’s too much of a stretch to say that games like Call of Duty make certain assumptions about what is justifiable, righteous slaughter and what is terrorism. Replace modern military hardware with future tech, replace terrorists with alien races that have traits synonymous with cartoon portrayals of traditionally marginalized social groups, and you’re effectively playing through the worst aspects of Call of Duty with a new coat of a paint.”

There is one glimmer of hope in the game. One sliver of lore that gives us pause and helps make the game bearable in its current state. It comes in the form of Lady Efrideet, former Iron Banner handler, youngest member of the Iron Lords, and a Guardian in self-exile from the City, the Vanguard, and its fascist dogma.

Lady Efrideet is one of the most fearsome Hunters in the Destiny universe. She is known as one of the best marksmen, if not the best one. She is impossibly strong, having once thrown Lord Saladin bodily off a mountain into a Fallen Spider Walker, destroying it. And she is also one of the only named pacifist Guardians who isn’t a member of the Cryptarchy. Her story is the story of the fall of the Iron Lords, as well as the beginning of the SIVA crisis, many years before our Guardian’s rise is documented.

But it isn’t SIVA or the Iron Lords that we’re interested in. Instead, we know that after SIVA was sealed away, Efrideet snuck away from Earth. She saw the deaths of everyone she knew and her will to fight was shattered. If this was the result of fighting for the Traveler, she didn’t want any part in it. So she took to the stars. In doing so, she ended up in the far reaches of the solar system, beyond even where we currently roam. It turns out, a small enclave of other Lightbearers, hesitant or unwilling to use their powers to kill, had also fled to this part of the system and had established a colony. It’s there that Efrideet resides, and it’s there I’d like to go.

Unfortunately, our Guardian is too “important” to the vast tidal forces at work in the Destiny universe for us to be able to leave for the outer reaches whenever we want. Because we are the hub on which the wheel of history turns, and there is no escaping that now, if ever we could. We are death, the flattening of a complex and intricate universe into one of simple shapes, the sword logic in a human/Awoken/Exo body. We are needed for the plans of the Nine/Mara Sov/Hive Queen Savathun to come to fruition. When or if the Darkness ever does come back, we will be the force that faces it and, win or lose, shape our future afterward.

Sometimes it’s nice having a video game place your character on a linear track. Games like Half-Life or Titanfall present to us simple choices in otherwise-complex story environments: progress, or die. Our characters are not immortal, but they have help from the technologies around us, are tenacious, are resourceful, are quick to adapt to changing situations. In Destiny, we simply exist. We can’t truly die. Even when it comes to the rules of the game, our immense “paracausality” causes us to shrug Darkness Zones off as mere inconveniences where other Guardians have died their final deaths. Because we are necessary. The Vanguard and Consensus need us to justify their horrific fascist policies. The great forces at work in the background need us to work as a pawn. Even Bungie itself needs us, powerful, trapped beings with a sense of right and wrong but no agency to actually act on those ethics, to continue its game.

I haven’t preordered Shadowkeep yet. For once I’m glad we’re not focusing on the Fallen or the Cabal. Going to the Moon means we’ll pretty much just be dealing with Hive, to say nothing of the unreal Nightmares we’re supposed to face. But I’m still undecided as to whether I even want to order Shadowkeep in the first place. If Lady Efrideet can go to the edge of known space and live peacefully with other pacifist Guardians, maybe I can put my controller down and step away, once and for all. It would be nice to have the extra space on my Xbox One’s hard drive. Other games exist to be played, and having the time and energy to do so would help me here, with No Escape.

But even then. I’m not expressing agency as a Guardian, but rather as the person who controls you, Guardian. While I go off to play other games, you sit and wait in stasis. Even if I don’t play, there are a million iterations of you willing to commit genocide daily for cheap rewards (shoutouts to the sixtieth Edge Transit drop in my inventory this month alone). Sure, it’s just a game. But this is what having a dynamic world means in practice. There are consequences to your actions. There always have been.

There is no reason why Humanity couldn’t share the Traveler’s gifts with, at the very least, the Eliksni. There is no reason why we couldn’t just ignore the Cabal in a state of mutually assured destruction, given how small a faction the Red Legion was relative to the Cabal army’s full size. Of the two remaining enemies, the Vex are less evil than they are simply a thing that wants the universe to be like it, and that’s threatening to diverse life throughout the universe, not just Humanity. The Hive/Taken are the true enemies in the game, but even they are directed, pawn-like, by their Worm Gods.

There is, likewise, no reason why the Risen had to organize in the fascist context they did. They could have created a society in which everyone could come and go freely, where ideas and actions could be given and received absent interference, where a true “golden age” could have sprung up naturally simply by living together harmoniously and using the Light the Traveler gave them to create, rather than destroy.

But that’s not how this story shakes out.

#destiny #destiny 2 #video games #antifascism

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kim-seungmine · 5 years

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likewise

title: likewise (part of i am you small project) characters: reader x kim seungmin of stray kids genres: fluff with sprinkles of angst, aspiring actor!seungmin, college au word count: 3301 words warnings: language synopsis: you hate your job as a part-time librarian, until you meet a certain puppy-like boy with smoldering eyes--which is a weird combination, but you like him anyways a/n: watch Day6’s Shoot Me MV for references. Also, I suck at giving titles I’m sorry!

You believed that fate affected 40% of your life. No more, no less. The other 60% would be decisions, but sadly you had a knack for making yourself suffer. Your decisions ranged from bad decisions to don’t-even-talk-about-it decisions: taking morning classes so you had time for part-time work (bad decision), choosing the wrong apartment building to live in (very bad decision), and working as a part-time librarian (don’t-even-talk-about-it decision) in your campus.

Choosing the wrong apartment should have been the worst decision you had ever made, but now anything would be better than stacking thick, dusty books back to the top of the shelf. First of all, you weren’t on the tall side. Secondly, the old stool you were using was about to collapse. Thirdly, you had accidentally dropped three books and the three people studying on the table across you kept giving you death glares.

“We still need one more point, guys. What should it be?” A guy with a sharp jawline and raspy voice asked. You hopped off your stool, deciding to arrange the books in the bottom shelf first until these guys went home. The Sharp Jawline (very gorgeous, if you might add), stopped to look at his friends, waiting for their feedback.

One of his friends, the one who reminded you of a puppy, rolled his eyes. “It’s very simple, Changbin. The topic is whether money is everything, and our stance is no. Why do people do all the ‘useless’ shit like drawing, dancing—”

“What the fuck!”

“Fuck, sorry Felix. Didn’t mean to make it sound that way.”

The guy named Felix was furious now. His hands were curled into fists and if he had laser eyes, he would’ve made a huge hole on Puppy Guy’s face. This is interesting, you noted. You never liked eavesdropping, it was plain creepy and rude, but this was clearly more fun than your job.

“So you were saying?” Sharp Jawline interjected. Felix was no longer furious, he just looked hurt. Puppy Guy let out an (almost) apologetic sigh before rephrasing his statement, “Some of us choose to do things that we love instead of other things that have more definite future. There are a lot of living proofs of that, so I think that will be a strong point.”

A smile slowly crept onto Felix’s face. He nodded excitedly, jotting it down on his notebook. “Can I take this one? I’m sure I’ll nail it. I’m the living proof, after all.”

“Felix, you’re a Finance major.”

“Hey I’m transferring next semester!”

“Alright, but don’t use yourself as an example. Don’t choose celebrities either,” Puppy Guy said. “Changbin can take the second point and I’ll take the first one. Now we just need—”

He didn’t get to finish what he wanted to say since you dropped the fourth book for the night. All three of them gave you another death glare, but this time Puppy Guy got up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Do you need help?” he asked. In a normal situation, you would count this as a meet-cute, but Puppy Guy’s glare turned out to be scarier than Felix’s. You didn’t know how he still managed to look so adorable—so puppy like—although he was basically trying to stop himself from murdering you.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just started working here and I’m still not used to holding big books… it’s okay. I’ll just go to the other sections first.”

Puppy Guy stole a glance at his friends before looking at the book you were holding, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables. “Does anyone even read that book anymore,” he said; his tone told you that it wasn’t exactly a question. “Why bother taking it out when you have zero intention to read it.”

He took the book from you, darting his eyes to the other books scattered on the floor. “I’ll help you,” he sighed. You nodded, sliding the stool towards him. Puppy Guy stepped onto the wobbly stool, extending his hand out to you.

“Seungmin-ah, what are you doing?” Sharp Jawline whispered-yelled, a playful smile plastered on his face. Felix (you would’ve nicknamed him Cute Bunny Teeth if they didn’t reveal his name sooner) propped his face on his palm, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Puppy Guy—Seungmin!—ignored his friends, fully concentrating on putting the books back to the top shelf. You couldn’t help but stare at him; he really looked like an adorable puppy, but his eyes looked fiery, like he was angry at the world. “Wow this is the worst job ever,” he grumbled, losing his balance as he put down the last book.

“Please ask them to give you a new stool. This is dangerous,” he said, dusting off his denim jacket (which looked amazing on him).

“I read Les Miserables,” you blurted out as he was about to walk away.

Seungmin raised his eyebrows, thinking for a few seconds before finally nodding his head. “Yeah, I did too,” he answered, and then something magical happened.

He smiled.

The rest of the week passed just like that. It was nearly midterm period, so you were drowning in assignments and part-time jobs. You never met Seungmin, Changbin, and Felix in the library again, although you were sure you saw Felix dancing at the university festival two days ago. There were a lot of attractive boys in the library (surprisingly), but none of them caught your attention like Seungmin and his soft smile.

You closed your laptop as your professor left the classroom. “Y/N, you’re still helping me to film Day6’s new music video today right?” Bang Chan, your senior who possessed the deepest dimples ever, tapped your desk.

Shit.

You completely forgot about it. Both of you were in the same Advanced Cinematography class, and your professor recommended him to one of the most popular video production companies in Korea. He was asked to choose one more person, so he chose you.

This project would boost your resume although you probably wouldn’t do much. “Oh yeah, of course! How could I forget?” You faked a smile, packing up your things in a rush. Chan glanced at his watch, his face turned pale in an instant.

“Oh shoot, we have to leave now, Y/N. I promised the director that we’d arrive earlier. Is that okay?” he asked, helping you to put your laptop into your bag. “Do you know that the male lead also studies here? He’s from the International Studies department.”

You only nodded nonchalantly as Chan dialled a number. “Yo Seungmin! Where are you?”

Seungmin? How many Seungmins were there in your campus? Was it your Seungmin?

Chan quickened his pace, waving his hand at a brown-haired guy when as you two were nearing the front entrance. You tried not to scream when you realized that it really was your Seungmin standing there, waving back to Chan.

“Y/N, this is our actor, Kim Seungmin.”

When your eyes met his, you felt somehow… relieved. He was looking at you with those smoldering eyes of his, and you were supposed to feel intimidated, but you weren’t. If anything, you felt almost giddy. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Thanks for helping me the other day.”

Seungmin shrugged. “I only did it because you were noisy as hell,” he said. Chan clapped in excitement, squeezing himself between both of you to wrap his arms around your shoulders. “Wait, you guys already know each other? That’s great!” He turned to you, “You should’ve seen Seungmin auditioned! He was born to act.”

Seungmin punched Chan’s shoulder, avoiding your gaze. “I just got lucky,” he mumbled.

“Have you been acting for a long time?” you asked, your heart did a flip when Seungmin chuckled. You wondered how he could possibly act, seeing that he didn’t even smile often. But small moments like this convinced you that Seungmin had another side you didn’t know about.

“This will be my first.”

You would be seeing Seungmin act for the first time. Somehow, you liked the sound of that.

You were examining the storyboard with Chan operating the camera beside you. The director was looking at the screen, nodding as Seungmin pointed his fingers at the camera and started shooting imaginary bullets. You heard the staff behind you gasped in awe, so you decided to steal a glance at the screen.

And you were transfixed.

Seungmin was sitting there, opposite the female lead, staring into the camera with teary eyes and a sorrowful gaze that you would never forget because how could someone look as angry and vulnerable like that? When the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile, you checked your storyboard, and saw nothing like that in it.

Seungmin was in his element, and he was beautiful.

Chan turned to the director, who said nothing as Seungmin continued staring into the camera. “And cut!” he shouted at last. “Good job, Seungmin. That improvisation was amazing.”

The whole room clapped, bowing to each other as the director announced that the shoot was done. Seungmin blinked, letting his tears roll down his cheeks before harshly wiping his eyes with his hand. You waited until he finished greeting everyone before running to him.

“You did very well! Everyone was so mesmerized, to say the least.” You patted his shoulder lightly, feeling a bit self-conscious when he didn’t reply. “Thank you,” Seungmin finally said, walking past you to high five an excited Chan.

“Damn it! You just outdid yourself, bro!” Chan exclaimed. The two boys continued chatting as you panicked for the second time that day. “Chan! I gotta leave now, my shift at the library starts soon!” you informed, already sprinting to the door when Seungmin said something you couldn’t make out.

You were ready to come up with twenty cliché excuses about why you were late, but the first thing the head librarian told you when you arrived at the library was that you got a new stool. “There are some new books at the back, make sure to put all of them to the shelves,” she said. You nodded, internally sighing as you realized that it wasn’t just “some” new books, but “a lot” of new books.

Deciding to start with fiction books first, you pushed the book cart to the fiction section. This was the exact aisle where you met Seungmin, and you couldn’t help but admit that you had a crush on him. You had fallen in love quite a lot; there were enough boys for you to make your own version of “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before”. The difference was, none of them turned out to be Peter Kavinsky.

“You got a new stool. Nice”

You grinned the moment you noticed that voice. Seungmin leaned on the shelf, taking a book from the cart. He flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed as his eyes caught some interesting words. “I’m borrowing this one,” he declared, slipping it into his bag. “I wanted to ask you to return the book I borrowed, but you bolted out the studio so fast.”

“I’m not your maid,” you pouted. Seungmin lowered his head to examine your face. “Why are you pouting like that?”

Great. Please continue being so obvious, Y/N.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “So you’re an International Studies major? Do you want to be a diplomat or something?”

Seungmin let out a heavy sigh that made you worried. A glint of anger returned to his eyes. “Not really. I just want to leave,” he answered, his stern gaze erased whatever reassuring words you wanted to say.

“Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s easier to deal with strangers than those you know well.”

“Like who?”

He paused, keeping his gaze on the floor as you continued putting books on the shelf. He stopped you when you were about to start arranging the top shelf. “Parents?” he sheepishly said while stepping on the new stool.

“Well, mine got divorced,” you commented, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could.

“Lucky you.”

Seungmin sneezed, and you quickly put your hand on his back so he wouldn’t fall down. “How is that lucky?” you asked when he turned his head to look at you. Seungmin left your question hanging in the air for a while, arranging the books quietly per your instruction.

“It’s better for them to separate than staying under one roof but constantly trying to destroy each other,” he continued, hopping off the stool to sit on the floor beside you.

“At first I thought it would be better this way. But all the words they say to each other, to me—they burn.”

You nodded, now knowing why Seungmin was the way he was. “Wanna know something funny?” you offered as an attempt to lighten up the mood. However, before you said anything further, the boy beside you started sobbing.

“Seungmin-ah,” you called out. His body only shook harder as he cried his heart out. You rubbed his back in a calming rhythm, shutting down curious, judgmental whispers from other students with a single look. Seungmin looked up at last, his swollen eyes meeting your concerned ones. “You have pretty eyes,” he complimented.

You cleared your throat, not breaking eye contact even though you felt like dying out of happiness. “Likewise,” you replied, causing him to let out an airy laugh. “It’s true. Although you look like a sad puppy now.”

“I guess I am,” he admitted. “Is it okay if I cry again? I haven’t done that in ages.”

You smiled at him, wiping the tears along his jawline instinctively. Seungmin took it as a yes, burying his head in his knees as he started sobbing again.

So you stayed, watching his wall crumble. Listening to the words that broke his heart. Feeling yourself fall even harder for this beautiful, broken boy.

Day6’s new music video for Shoot Me had been released, and Kim Seungmin was now the hottest guy at campus. You had watched it for at least a thousand times, yet you still teared up everytime you did. After breaking down in front of you two weeks ago, Seungmin hadn’t contacted you at all. You didn’t expect him to, especially since you two weren’t even friends to begin with.

But still, you were disappointed.

“I think that’s them.”

You were on your way to the cafeteria, and you felt that someone was following you. “Really? I couldn’t really see them when we were in the library.”

“Can I help you?”

Changbin and Felix stopped on their tracks when you turned around. “H-hi,” Changbin stuttered as Felix flashed you his brightest smile. “We didn’t mean to stalk you, I swear!”

“It’s just—”

Felix rubbed his nape, trying to think of a good reason, but in the end he just slapped Changbin’s biceps. “This is your fault!” he yelled. “We’re just curious.”

“About?”

“About why I asked Chan for your number.”

Seungmin was standing behind you, mouthing a string of curse words to Changbin and Felix who were just grinning at him. “How dare you guys call yourselves my friends!” he protested.

“You didn’t even tell us about you getting into acting!” Changbin countered.

“We found out from YouTube!” Felix added. “You called dancing a useless shit but look at you, actor Kim. How dare you!”

Seungmin raised his hand in defeat as you scooted away. This is how secondhand embarrassment really feels!

“Since you’re here, I don’t need to text you anymore,” he said to you. “Let’s ditch these dumbasses and get some coffee? Or whatever you want, it doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, trying to suppress your giggle as Changbin and Felix yelled, “KIM SEUNGMIN, FIGHTING!!!!”

Your eyes snapped open when you heard your bell ring. You groaned, kicking your blanket away before making your way to the door.

“Seungmin,” you yawned, eyes widening as you realized that your boyfriend was standing at your door at 2A.M, and you looked like absolute shit. He smiled, the same soft smile you saw when you two first met. Seungmin lifted a camera you didn’t know he was holding, snapping a few photos of you with your bed hair.

“What are you doing?” you whined, snatching his camera from him. He laughed before entering your flat. “Your neighbors aren’t being noisy anymore?”

“Ah yes, I forgot to tell you. They moved out last week. Now I can sleep peacefully.” You paused, glaring at Seungmin who was making himself comfortable on your couch. “Or so I thought.”

He pulled you down so you were sitting on his lap. “I want to see you,” he said, circling his arm around your waist. You sighed as you felt yourself blushing. “How could you say something so romantic with a straight face like that?” you protested.

“It’s a fact. How is that romantic?”

You cupped his face, caressing the apple of his cheeks while staring into his eyes. “What?” he asked.

“I want to see you,” you said, mimicking his straight face. Now it was Seungmin’s turn to blush, and you giggled. “See? That’s how I feel everytime you say things like that!”

Seungmin pointed at himself. “Things like that?”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, recalling all the times Seungmin caught you off guard with his sweet gestures. “You called me ten times just to make sure I could sleep after watching Lights Out. You always drop by whenever I say I feel lonely. You bought me a tablet for my birthday present although you wanted a new camera… and this. Randomly appearing at 2A.M because you want to see me.”

Seungmin reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “I do all of those things not because I’m trying to be romantic, but because I love you.”

You groaned in frustration, he had once again succeeded in making you feel giddy without meaning to. “I know,” you mumbled. “I don’t deserve you.”

He shook his head, pressing soft kisses on your fingertips. “You didn’t judge me for crying in front of you last year. You’re never mad at me although I’ve failed so many auditions. And you’re willing to see me no matter how late it is.”

“But you snagged a main role this time,” you argued. “And it’s for a webdrama!”

You suddenly remembered the time you wanted to tell him something when you two were in the library. “Wanna know something funny?”

Seungmin’s eyes lit up; they were a lot brighter now, especially after he told his parents how he really felt. The day after you two started dating, Felix almost cried when he saw his stoic best friend walked into the class with a lopsided grin on his face.

“I believe fate only affects 40% of my life. The rest are decisions. The thing is, I’ve made gazillions of bad decisions that I can’t trust myself.” You paused, glancing down to see Seungmin waiting for you to continue. “Working at the library was my don’t-even-talk-about-it decision, you know. But then I met you.”

“You’re the one being romantic now,” your boyfriend pointed out.

You ignored him, dramatically announcing, “I made one great decision.”

He snickered, pulling you closer so that he could rest his forehead against yours. “Let me guess, that’s me?”

You rewarded him with a peck on his nose. “Likewise,” he said, closing the distance between you, kissing you slowly and long. You curled your hands around his neck, smiling as he nibbled your bottom lip. You stopped him. “I love you, Kim Seungmin,” you whispered against his lips.

He didn’t respond, only pressing his lips on yours harder. Seungmin pulled away after a while, leaving your lips swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Hmmm,” he hummed, tracing the outline of your lips. “Tell me something I don’t know, baby.”

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kittymaverick · 5 years

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It’s that time of the year again! MCF Moths to a Flame commentary-- Wait, MCF 20 is also in the works????!!!!

Once again, I’m relying on Pazu for the content, so excuse anything I miss in the process. Spoilers below the cut!

1. From the title alone I feel like the MD is... well... taking a certain leap of faith here that they’ll survive. 2. Dang, that elevator ride... if this is the MD agency headquarters, can I say you guys are in desperate need of a full-office renovation? MD: Ever wondered why I drive a buggy? It’s because they don’t have the funds for that, let alone pay me enough for my suffering. 3. “Not a secret passage”. OPEN IT. MD: No. It doesn’t have a lock! OPEN-- MD: How about... this spooky looking archive instead? .....This where they put all your reports of shame? MD: ...Yes. *sobs* 4. Hey, hey guy? Not smoking in the archives is sort of a common sense rule! MD: Hush, our line of work is stressful, alright? 5. I like how you guys just scribble out the FAIL stamps with pencil. Also, did you put up that cut out of the news clipping about Ravenhearst destroyed? MD: My proudest accomplishment... *wipes a tear* Huh, and also mentions of Huxley boarding house-- MD: I’m so sad I didn’t get to burn that place down. 6. ...This wall looks a bit creepy... You happen to have a stalker coworker, MD? MD: I already work with creepy clients and adversaries. Please don’t make my life already harder than it is. Huh, more blueprints... What is it with you and guys that love to make blueprints, huh? MD: ...I attract a certain type-- *NEON LETTERS OF YOU WILL ALL PAY SHOW UP* *ME SCREECHING* 7. Hey MD, just making sure... that guy wasn’t you, right? MD:.... ....Master Detective?.... MD: I can neither confirm nor deny such a speculation. Guys, I TOLD you that MD needed a therapy dog! 8. I swear, television head mannequin has turned into the new MCF mascot. MD: They grow on you after a while, like mold. 9. Omg, there’s an entire cabinet of your cases. MD: Every time I look at that bookcase, I feel like I need another holiday-- So you can get assigned an overseas case! :D MD: ...What has my life come to... 10. ...Wait, only NOW are we getting the intro? Also, ehehe, I see you still got crows following you. MD: A murder is forever following my footsteps, great. 11. “Several top secret files have gone missing from the agency--” MD: Oh, OH... NO ONE ROBS US AND GETS AWAY WITH IT. “To keep a low-profile, we’re sending you alone.” MD: Wait, that’s not... how... I’m getting no back up? RIP Master Detective, you will be sorely missed. :) MD: Is this because we’re not making enough money to pay for two?! LOOK I’LL TAKE THIS PRO BONO LET ME HAVE A PARTNER TO WATCH MY BACK OKAY-- 12. “We have reliable information that the files at are the Zenith Museum of Oddities--” MD: Okay, first, if you know where the files are going, WHY ARE YOU NOT CALLING THE POLICE THAT IS PROBABLY IN CAHOOTS WITH US AND WILL JUST HAND THEM BACK TO US ANYWAY? Second, IT’S A MUSEUM OF ODDITIES AND YOU THINK SENDING ME IS A GREAT IDEA? Third, if it’s some of our top secret files that might be related to oddities, HOW LIKELY IS IT THAT THIS HEIST MIGHT HAVE BEEN ENTIRELY DONE TO DRAW ME TO THE MUSEUM, AND I’M LITERALLY WALKING INTO A DEATH TRAP? ...MD, you keep up that paranoia, and we’re not gonna get a game. MD: I JUST WANT MY SANITY, OKAY. MY HEALTH INSURANCE DOESN’T COVER THAT MUCH THERAPY. 13. “...The museum is abandoned--” Really? MD: Are you sure? Are you absolutely absolutely sure? MD: If the files are there, HOW can it be abandoned? “...You want to lose your badge, detective, cause you’re this darn close.” MD: ............. “The Queen sure do love reading your reports.” MD: I will remember this, director....... *shakes fists* 14. “It’s okay, we’re going to give you a MAC, reserved for the very best--” MD: You’re getting me a Macbook?! 8D “No... it means Mechanical automated companion.” MD: ...But, Mac, Book... It’s okay, MD, it’s okay. Trust me, you don’t want Macs on an important mission where they could just break... That said, I swear, Elf from Mystery Trackers had like a basket of puppies, why couldn’t we have gotten one?! “Can Elf do this?” *Badge transformer* MD: !!!!!!!! ...Okay, you know what, THIS? WAY COOLER. 15. MD: It found something! This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship-- Ah yes, they gave you a companion cube JUST SO THEY CAN TAKE IT AWAY LATER. >8D MD: Can’t you let me have my happiness for just one, bloody, second?! 16. Hm, a car in the ravine. MAC can’t get inside. If we aim a rock carefully, maybe we can pop the trunk open-- MD: *chucks rock at back window, shattering it* UM, REALLY? MD: Vandalism, a step down from arson, but just as cathartic. 17. Hm, a bike. MD: *eyes shining* Um, MD???? MD: *vibrating on spot* UM. NO YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO COMMIT GRAND THEFT AUTO. MD: dammit. 18. One Chloe Waston... ring any bells? MD: Nope. Right, filing down one NPC as a possible rescue target, if not a body, if not an adversary. MD: The three categories of people I meet on my cases... 19. A place for all great but misunderstood things. MD: Sounds like something a certain family would say about themselves. Mmhmm... 20. Puzzles so far in the first 15 minutes don’t look sketchy. I almost miss the nonsensical ones that scream “Hi, I was built by a madman!” MD: I’m not sure if I should feel safer, or less safe about having an adversary that might actually be sane for once. 21. MD: Place could use a garderner. Victor was a pretty good garderner-- MD: Can you not please Sorry, force of habit. 22. Pazu: Can you see the robot television man? Really? Oh boy that doesn’t bode well-- *Another robot falls from the above* AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH MD: WHERE IS MY BUGGY LET ME OUT OF HERE. 23. TV head: Welcome to the Zenith Museum-- MD: WHY DO YOU SOUND LIKE THE TV MAN FROM ALL THE OTHER PLACES??? Maybe they mass produce them-- MD: YOU TELLING ME CHARLES HAS A FACTORY FOR BUILDING THEM SOMEWHERE??? If so, hey at least that’s one more place for you to indulge in being a pyromaniac. 24. I just realized, all those people probably came here for the missing case files. If so, um, MD, you guys honestly have got to have the worst kept secret files ever in history. MD: I mean, when entire buildings are burning down, it’s hard to keep people from talking... 25. This letter to open the door screams TRAP, MD. MD: Look, if I quit now, my pension’s done for, so I might as well die trying. ...You have a pension? MD: ...No, I’m just making up excuses for why I’m entering the building of a murderer... You could just say you have a murderer to stop... 26. Ah, found the files, obvious in a mysterious box-- Um, MD. MD: ..... They... those three were also.... Master Detectives....... MD: *cracks knuckles* Ohhhhhhhhhh fuck they’ve done it, they’ve really pissed the MD off... 27. MD: That outline, it’s like the letter I got from the Queen-- *FOOL* MD: ....................................... Wow, I mean, it’s refreshing that someone just outright calls you an idiot for once. Um, please tell me you brought your immortality feather. MD: Oh bloody hell no, this is mortal combat, just you and me, pal! ...maybe the insult MIGHT be right in some ways... 28. MD: Hey MAC, what’s up? *RED ALERT, TV HEAD ATTACK* MD: I KNEW YOU GUYS WOULD TURN ON ME ONE DAY. TV head: Hey, maybe I can help you. Two heads is better than one! MD: Given that you JUST attacked me, how about GO GET GUILLOTINED BY THE DOOR. 29. MD: *picks up head* You, TALK. TV head: I don’t know what happened! MD: Oh, REALLY? If you want to punch the screen out, I’m not against it, for once. 30. Um, MD, I have to point out... MD: What? ...Mac disappeared. Like, YOUR BADGE literally disappeared. MD: ...NOOOOOOOOOOOOO I’m sure you’ll find it later, when you need it the most-- MD: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO STAB A HOROCRUX WITH SILVER IF I DON’T HAVE MY BADGE. If it’s any consolation, at least you have the other badges, though they are a bit fused together, and huh, this statue here says badges only-- *Contraptions swallows up badge* *Spits out.... Dalimar portrait chain.* ... MD: ... MD: *TURNS TO BANG ON DOOR FUTILELY* LET US OUT OF HERE, EIPEX WE WANT OFF THIS RIDE LET US OUT PLEASE MD: I FORGOT MY FEATHER PLEASE LET ME GO GET IT AT LEAST SO I CAN CHEAT MY WAY OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!

[To be continued in part two...]

#Mystery Case files #Moths to a Flame #Big Fish Case #Kitty for once doesn't like the fact that the Dalimars might be back #well okay she is but she's also screaming in fear

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mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker · 5 years

Text

Sometime in the first few months of 2000, I dropped Stan Lee a line saying I’d love to do some work for Stan Lee Media, Stan’s well-publicized and multi-staffed dot-com company, if he could ever use me. He replied that, while he’d like to work with me again, I would’ve had to be around L.A. to work for SLM, but that, by coincidence, he really needed a writer to work with him on the SPIDER-MAN comic strip… to plot out and do the first-draft script of the seven-days-a-week King Features strip. I said that sounded fine to me (even though I’d never really been wild about writing Spidey compared to the F.F., Avengers, Conan, etc.). He replied with a chuckle that maybe I should wait till I heard his offer, because the money was so minuscule… just $300 a week. I laughed, and told him that he had no idea how little money it cost me to live on my 40-acre place in the middle of South Carolina. The mortgage and both our vehicles were paid off, so Dann and I had no expenses except what we spent month-to-month. So a deal was quickly struck, and I went to work, with my first strip (a Monday, of course) appearing on July 17, 2000.

As it turned out, although I never got a raise in 18 1/2 years I basically ghost-wrote the strip (though, until recent years, with his often hands-on editing), it was a great gig. I spent maybe two days a month writing four weeks’ worth of strips, and another day 2 or 3 times a year doing outlines for upcoming storylines.

After Stan cut back his activities a few years ago, following installation of his pacemaker, etc., I worked primarily with his longtime assistant, Michael Kelly, with some indirect verbal input from Stan, and in some ways I liked that even better, since Stan and I were only about 80% on the same page as to what made a good comic strip. Despite his well-known (and correct) views on how important the writing was to the success of Marvel Comics from 1961 on, he would often talk about how it was the artwork that sold the strip. I didn’t think that reflected the realities of the situation, particularly after John Romita left the strip a few years after it began, and as the printing of the strips grew smaller and smaller. Stan’s brother Larry Lieber was a good journeyman penciler (and Alex Saviuk considerably better), but the artists didn’t really have the scope, especially in the dailies, to do the kind of artwork that was going to excite readers the way, say, Milt Caniff once had in Terry and the Pirates. The sight of Spidey or Dr. Octopus in a strip might draw people in, but the writing had to bring people back, day after day, since Spidey and Peter and MJ and Doc Ock would always look basically the same, squeezed into small panels–with no “full-page spreads” like in the comicbooks. And yes, I wrote a bit more text and dialogue than he did… but that was partly because, otherwise, I wasn’t sure people could really follow the strip from day to day… or at least, no new readers would be brought in if it was hard to start reading the strip at any given point.

Mostly, though, Stan and I got along fine. For the most part, he liked what I submitted, accepted most (not all) of my ideas for stories… and until a few years ago often “suggested” (or insisted upon) alterations in them. For some years, he would rewrite a panel or balloon here and there, or even more… while other dailies or Sundays would sail through without a single word change.

The major change I tried to effect, after the first “Spider-Man” movie, was to go back to a time when MJ and Peter weren’t married. Stan agreed, and seemed halfway enthusiastic about the change at first, and we did one whole storyline (involving Electro) that way. But then Stan changed his mind, and I saw at once that I wouldn’t be able to change it back. So I wrote a “Dallas”-type scene in which Peter woke up (after going to sleep in Aunt May’s apartment as a single young man) to find himself married (again) to Mary Jane… and that’s the way we kept it from then on. Actually, I was increasingly happy with that, as an alternative to the bouncing around of the comicbooks, in which MJ and Peter totally forgot each other and their marriage, and who-knows-what occurred. Left increasingly to my own devices, and building on MJ’s modeling career in the comicbooks, I gradually took her from working in a computer store to becoming a Broadway star and movie actress, playing a super-heroine called “Marvella” (before the female Captain Marvel was a big deal, or maybe even was around at all)…but I kept her and Peter, somewhat incongruously, in their relatively small Manhattan apartment (except when they were in L.A., of course)… although they occasionally shopped around for something bigger.

In recent years, I had taken increasingly to using guest stars: Wolverine, Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Ant-Man, most recently Iron Fist and Luke Cage. We never bothered to try to follow the current Marvel continuity, which Stan didn’t want to do… the more so, I suppose, as from time to time it was given increasingly to violent wrenches and re-starts, such as when MJ and Peter were abruptly uncoupled. If there were eventually several Spider-Man universes in the comics (with different Spider-Men, a Spider-Girl, whatever), well, our comic strip universe was yet another one… just about the only one, in recent years, in which Peter and MJ were a married couple, continuing the original direction of decades of the comicbooks. We were all kind of proud of that.

When the strip died (i.e., was killed), the Mammon Theatre where MJ’s hit play was running was shuttered by damage (in a Spidey-related fight, of course), and “Marvella II” had flopped, so the two of them took off to Australia for a vacation, and I wrote a couple of weeks of a continuity (along with a full outline approved by Michael Kelly) involving the villain the Kangaroo. Then Marvel decided to kill the strip and not print the final couple of weeks, and I declined to rewrite the last published strip or two to turn it into a “goodbye” strip. My feeling was that I had accepted the snuffing of the strip, and didn’t take it personally… it was just a business move (although when I was told the strip was being killed I wasn’t told—perhaps because those who informed me didn’t know–that Marvel was planning to either revive the strip with a new team or to start a new strip that might not be a Spidey strip per se, but more the equivalent of DC’s latter-day successor to its Superman strip, The World’s Greatest Heroes, which had featured the whole panoply of DC heroes). I felt that I had written what I had written for the strip, and they were welcome to do whatever they wanted to with the script (as long as I was paid for what I had done, naturally), but I preferred never to touch it again. When I’m done with something, I’m done with something.

Alex Saviuk, bless him, graciously reworked the final strip to show the two of us in it, and to add a “‘Nuff Said!” headline on the Daily Bugle. He was perhaps a better sport about things than I was… and I admire him for that, since he had spent well over two decades penciling the Sunday Spider-Man and then had only recently been promoted to seven-days-a-week penciler… only to see the strip almost immediately canceled so that he was out of a regular gig. I hope he finds one. He deserves it.

Naturally, I was sorry to see the strip end (the more so because it signaled the finale of the only long-lasting adventure strip launched in the past half century), just at the time when I could finally have begun to receive on-strip credit for the work I did… although of course I did have that for two years on the Conan the Barbarian comic strip at the end of the 1970s. But at least, once Stan wrote vaguely, maybe a decade ago, in his introduction to the hardcover volume Marvel Visionaries: Roy Thomas, that I “help[ed]” him with the Spidey strip, everybody with half a brain knew what I was contributing to the strip anyway. That didn’t bother Stan, and it didn’t bother me. The strip was Stan’s, and I was happy to co-write or write it under his name… although I wouldn’t have been willing to go on writing it anonymously once he had passed on, had that alternative been suggested to me.

Working with Stan and Michael Kelly (as well as with Larry, Alex, and the ever-amiable Joe Sinnott–with Joe spelled occasionally by Jim Amash or Terry Austin) on the Spider-Man strip was an enjoyable experience, and I’m grateful to Stan for offering me that “pittance” back in 2000. The strip became the last of our many collaborations of one sort or other, which began when, in early July of 1965, I inherited a Modeling with Millie story that he had previously talked over (I suppose) with penciler Stan Goldberg.

Best wishes,

Roy Thomas

The LAST SPIDER-MAN Daily newspaper strip! It’s been a fabulous time for me being part of such an iconic character for so long. I’ve drawn Spider-Man in comics and newspapers for 32 years in a row and unless I get another crack at him NEXT year that run will come to an end. But I am digressing a bit; I’m here to talk about the newspaper strip which for me OFFICIALLY started in the spring of 1977 probably around April-May. I say OFFICIALLY because back in 1980 , John Romita, Sr. who was still drawing the entire strip at that time called me and asked if I had the time to ghost lay out some Sunday strips for him since he was incredibly busy with everything else he had on his plate for Marvel. John lived ( and still lives, I believe ) in the town next to mine on Long Island when I was there and I actually met him about 10 years earlier since I was in high school with his sons. ( that’s right, I went to high school with JR, Jr.— he IS four years younger than me to the day and when I was a senior he was a freshman and today looks 20 years younger than me!) I was in a club in school with the older son Victor who over time found out I was interested in drawing comics and came to me one day and said “… my father draws comics — would you like to meet him?” Of course I knew that but I would never impose. We met soon after that. What happened after that is another story!

BACK TO THE STRIP: I did at least 4 Sunday layouts for John on vellum tracing paper and he took it to the next level and beyond yet saving him a ton of time. I was really happy and excited just to be called to assist him , first of all, and then get the privilege and honor of working with one of my comic book artist “heroes”. IDW just recently published that volume of reprints and it was fun to see our collaborations again.

FORWARD to 1997: Ralph Macchio at Marvel calls me up and asks if I would be interested in penciling the Spider-Man Sunday strip since fill-in penciler old time artist Fred Kida wanted to leave. Of course I agreed — i would get to work directly with Stan Lee and Joe Sinnott! I put a package together of my Web Of Spider-Man and Spider-Man Adventures books and sent them to Stan. His assistant Mike Kelly called a few days later and said Stan liked the work but wanted to see how I would handle a “horizontal” strip in a six panel grid format. I admit I was a bit surprised by that request since with my 20 years of experience at that time I figured i showed what I can do in just the comic books. But I went ahead and penciled a six panel episode of an encounter with Spider-Man saving JJonah Jameson from a few muggers with the end panel having an ungrateful JJJ waving his fist at Spidey as he swung away from the scene. I sent that in and a few days days after returning home from running errands I found a message from Stan Lee on my answering machine. “ Hi, Alex… this is Stan Lee. I LOVE your work and I’d love to work with you. It doesn’t pay that much but think of the GLORY!” Actually the page rate was as much as I was making at the time so i couldn’t complain. No raise in 22 years ( but from what I understand things havent changed that much for mainstream freelancers even today. ) I got my first script a few days later and in May 1977 I penciled a Sunday in the middle of a Kingpin storyline which was inked by Joe Sinnott , lettered by Stan Sakai and was published in August 1977. Sundays were always drawn 3 months ahead of publication. What a rush to see those preview Xeroxes and then the colored version in the newspaper( which I had to hunt down ! There were no papers in Florida where I lived carrying the strip but the local Barnes & Noble sold out of town newspapers so I managed to find one that published the Sundays )

FORWARD to Feb 2003: Got a call asking me if I could ink a week of Dailies drawn by Larry Lieber because inker John Tartaglione needed to go to the hospital for a procedure. John ended up being OK after that week but I had a blast inking Larry’s pencils since I really never inked anybody else other my own pencils for my Web Of Spider-Man covers. Sadly that November , I got a call that John Tartaglione has passed away at 82 because he lost the fight with his particular illness. At the same time I was asked if I would be able to take over the inking of the Dailies. Affirmative….

FORWARD to July 2018: Larry Lieber wants to retire at 87 after 25+ years ( maybe 30+? ) and I inherit the penciling duties! Pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I thought the Stan Lee would live forever especially since a few years ago when he got his pacemaker he felt he was the next Tony Stark and felt stronger than ever. Unfortunately and sadly as we all know , that didnt happen and Marvel decided the strip shouldn’t go on without STAN LEE at the helm. But I am forever in Stan Lee’s debt for having me join him, Joe Sinnott, Roy Thomas and letterers Stan Sakai, Kenny Lopez, and Janice Chiang for all these years in bringing our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to our readers each and every day for these months and years! It’s been a joy, an honor and privilege which I will never forget!

( I do want to add that since since the Sundays were done so far in advance there are TWO more Sundays that followed March 17 that we did together that are now considered to be officially UNPUBLISHED! )”

-Alex Saviuk

P.S. Putting aside how Roy got his timeline mixed up because the back int ime stuff happened in 2008 not 2002, and just so you heard it louder at the back, Stan Lee and Roy Thomas 100% didn’t care fro OMD and actively sought to keep the marriage in the comics.

#Spider-Man newspaper Strip #Amazing Spider-Man Newspaper Strip #Roy Thomas #Alex Saviuk #Stan Lee #spider-man #peter parker #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker

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witharthurkirkland · 7 years

Text

Something Lost Something Found

Summary: Who would ever steal form the living legend himself? That no good Yuuri Katsuki, that’s who! …Or not?

Notes: This is based on a prompt I got on ao3. I am always happy to get more prompts!

Pairing: Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov (in the Bad Apple AU, so featuring Bad Boy Yuuri and Innocent Victor Nikiforov)

Read it here or on ao3

Yuuri Katsuki, 5-time world silver medalist, walked into the change room angry with himself, angry with the world, but mostly angry with the 5-time world champion who…

…who was going through his stuff.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

Victor Nikiforov, said 5-tme champion and thorn in Yuuri’s side, jumped up in embarrassment, clutching something in his hand. He stuttered something incoherent for several minutes before drawing himself up to his full height, which, although impressive, wasn’t enough to intimidate anyone. Cute little puppies could do a better job of being intimidating than Victor Angel-of-Figure-Skating Nikiforov.

Yuuri suppressed a laugh.

“Just taking back what you stole from me!” Victor exclaimed.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This!” He held out a photo he’d stolen from Yuuri’s wallet of his dog, Vicchan.

“That’s my dog,” Yuuri said.

“No, it’s not! That’s my dog!” Victor protested.

“No, it’s mine.” Yuuri crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of lockers. He could pull out his phone and show proof that he had a dog just like Victor’s, but he didn’t feel like it. Besides, that could lead to the dangerous question of why he had a dog identical to Victor’s and with Victor’s name in the first place.

But, for some reason, this was persuasive enough for Victor. He gave a sad sigh and his head dropped. “I’m sorry. They-they keep saying that you’re a terrible person without morals who will do things just to mess with people and when I saw it was gone I thought maybe… maybe you stole it to get back at me for… for always beating you…” He gave another sigh as Yuuri suppressed the urge to say something nasty. “I guess that means he took it. I hoped it wasn’t him. I… I’d rather it was you, to be honest.” He raised his head and gave Yuuri a sad smile, handing the photo back to him.

“Who the hell are you going on about?”

“I have a fan,” Victor began, “well, a lot, actually, but there is this one fan who won’t leave me alone. He keeps following me around and asking me to go out with him.”

“And you won’t go out with him?” Hell, I’d break the guy’s arm if he tried something like that with me, but don’t you just do anything people tell you?

“Why should I?” Victor exclaimed and Yuuri found himself respecting the man, even if only a little bit. “I…” He blushed deeply and turned away. “I… I like someone else.”

Yuuri shrugged. Obviously this someone else, if they actually existed, was someone who Victor hadn’t confessed their feelings to. “Then why don’t you tell this guy to screw off?” He said dismissively. “Or,” he imagined how Victor would phrase it, “or “my good sir, why don’t you please get lost?” Something like that, anyway.”

“I tried. I told him I’m not interested. I asked him to go away…” Victor lowered his eyes and fidgeted.

“Then tell him you have a boyfriend.” Surely even you can tell a little white lie!

“I can’t lie about that!” Victor exclaimed. “I’m Victor Nikiforov! Everyone follows my life on every single social media network available!”

“Of course they do. How could I possibly forget?” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

It was a stupid idea, but Yuuri had gone beyond caring what others would think or say a long time ago. It was probably also the least original idea in the world.

“I’ll deal with him. Come with me,” he ordered and headed out of the change room.

Victor rushed after him. “What-what will you do?”

“Tell him to back off.”

“But it won’t work! I already tried that.” And then Victor stepped in front of him. “I-I won’t let you hurt him or… or threaten to hurt him!”

Yeah, as if you can actually prevent me from doing that. I can break most of the bones in your body, if I wanted to. “Who said anything about hurting anyone?”

“I know about you,” Victor stammered out. “Bad Yuuri, they all call you. Y-you’re no good and you…”

Yuuri watched with mild amusement as the most innocent man he’d ever met tried to tell him off, acting as if he’d put “kick me” signs on people’s backs and left thumbtacks on the teacher’s chair.

Oh, I won’t deny what you’re saying, but you have no idea how bad I really am. And because I’m a real bastard I will do something extremely nasty. “You done yet, teach?”

“Yuuri! Promise me you won’t hurt him!”

“Alright, alright, and I’ll go to church on Sundays and all that crap.” He saw the confused look on Victor’s face and sighed. “I promise I won’t hurt him. Now take me to him.”

He let Victor lead the way out to where all the press was and the screaming fans were in a big group, chanting something stupid as usual.

“That’s him,” Victor said quietly.

Exhibit A, as Yuuri would’ve called him, if he’d been a cop, was your standard disgusting I-wish-I’d-never-met-fans-like-you kind of fan. He made Yuuri’s screaming fans who threw their underwear to him look like a dream come true. It was impossible to like a fan like him even if he had a great personality. He was gross and creepy and probably had every single merchandise with Victor on it ever made.

Yuuri let his face twist in disgust as he headed straight for him. “Hey, you! Yeah, you ugly! Back away from my boyfriend!”

“Y-your boyfriend?” the fan repeated, stepping back. “Who on Earth are you talking about?” He looked around, as if trying to find someone with a giant “Yuuri’s boyfriend” sign in their hands.

“Victor Nikiforov! Ever heard of him?” Which was a stupid question in any other circumstances: the man had a shirt with Victor’s picture on it, as well as his name in case he ever forgot who to cheer for in a competition.

“What?” the fan exclaimed in something approaching a squeal. “As if Victor Nikiforov would ever go out with you!”

Right back at you, moron. “Well, he is!” Yuuri insisted. He turned to look at the living legend. “Isn’t that right, babe?” You deny this, I swear to god, I’m walking straight out of here and you can deal with Sleazy on your own.

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed, blushing. “Yes, he is!” It sounded a little too desperate to be convincing, but that didn’t matter.

“See?” Yuuri said, eyeing Victor out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to apologize for lying.

“I don’t believe you!” the fan insisted, spluttering. God, the man didn’t so much say his words as spray them!

“Oh, you want proof, do you?” Yuuri demanded acidly. The fan was starting to really get on his nerves. He debated beating him up anyway. “You don’t believe my word, fine I get that, but not even goody-two-shoes over here? The man couldn’t lie, if his life depended on it!” Actually, Yuuri was a little surprised Victor had gone along with his little deception. Maybe he was very desperate, more desperate to get rid of Sleazy than Yuuri had initially thought. “I suppose you want me to tell you all about the sex we had last night. How we kept half the floor awake with our screams? Or how Victor kept begging for more? Is that what you want to hear?” He was inventing as he went, but that didn’t matter. He was good at inventing on the fly.

“A-as if Victor would have sex with you!” Sleazy shouted back.

Yuuri was almost insulted. Almost.

They looked at Victor and Yuuri waited for the inevitable denial. Here was the living legend’s reputation as an innocent angel at stake. What would he do next?

“I-it’s true!” Victor insisted. “He did! And he’s really good! That’s why I kept begging for more!” His face was so red it was almost purple.

“This is a trick!” Sleazy said, showing that, against all other available evidence, he had a functioning brain. “Isn’t it? You’re just pretending!”

Yuuri was really getting into his stride now. “Oh you want me to pull all of the used condoms out of my garbage can? Or, maybe, we should go and find the cleaning staff that was in my room this morning and ask them if they were traumatized by what they found?” Yuuri’s imagination was starting to run out on him. If the fan had asked him what the cleaning staff could’ve possibly found, he would’ve been forced to admit that he had absolutely no idea. “All just to prove it to you? You want to hear all the gory details? Well, screw you and all the people like you! You’re just a nasty, pathetic little man who knows he can’t get it on with anyone and picks a weak target to terrorize instead. We don’t owe you anything! You got that? Absolutely nothing and it doesn’t matter if we have someone or not!”

Yuuri paused, because breathing had to happen eventually. He took in the glow in Victor’s eyes and tried to keep back from snapping. Don’t look at me like that! You should be the one saying this, not me! Why do I have to stand up for you? Why can’t you –

His brain ground to a halt as Victor leaned forward, put his hands carefully on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

He pulled away almost as soon as his lips touched Yuuri’s face. “S-sorry, I… uh…”

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” Now what will you do?

Victor’s response was to do just that: he pressed his lips against Yuuri’s with all the enthusiasm of someone who’d heard that kissing was a thing people did, but had no idea how it worked. He managed to hit Yuuri’s nose with his own too.

Yuuri pulled away to get into a better starting position and lunged at the living legend, pulling him close with his arms.

And how long will you keep this up for?

“Oh my god! I don’t believe it! Everyone! Victor Nikiforov is dating Yuuri Katsuki!” the fan screamed and ran off.

Yuuri pulled away when it became obvious that Victor forgot how to do that. “Well?” he raised an eyebrow. “Now what?”

“Will you go out with me?” Victor asked.

“Might as well keep up pretences, huh?”

“No!” Victor protested. Yuuri released him, but Victor caught him by the arms. “I really want to go out with you! …Um… if you want to.” He lowered his eyes. “They keep telling me that you’re no good, but I can’t help it. I-if you want, we can just go out for a little while and… um… maybe you’ll like being with me. I know you must hate me…”

Yuuri watched Victor flail and avoid the main words, feeling his eyebrows rise higher on his forehead.

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Hold on. What are you saying?”

“I like you, Yuuri,” Victor admitted, blushing. “I’ve liked you for a while now…”

“Oh, so not for all of the last ten minutes?” Yuuri asked, only half-joking.

“What? N-no…”

“And here I thought you were just really turned on by my description of the sex we supposedly had last night.”

Victor blushed deeper. “I… uh… We can do that too, if-if you want.”

Yuuri burst out laughing. “What? Bad Yuuri go out with pure and innocent Victor? And then strip him of his innocence? Really?”

“I’m sorry… you probably hate me…”

Yuuri swung out and gave Victor a smack on his backside. “Hate? No, I don’t hate you. If anything, I find you annoying. As in: it’s annoying how perfect you are, how you keep beating me in every competition, how you actually are amazing at skating and it’s not just biased judging that gets you your gold medals.” Victor stared up into Yuuri’s face in surprise. “It’s annoying how, despite the fact that you’re a goody-two-shoes, which should disgust me, being against everything I believe in, I still can’t hate you.” He reached out and pinched Victor’s cheek. “It’s annoying that you’re so damn beautiful. No one has the right to be that beautiful.”

Victor put a hand over his cheek where Yuuri had pinched him.

“And I want to go out with you,” Yuuri said, “but…”

“But?”

“Only if you give me another kiss.”

Victor leaned forward, but Yuuri put a hand over his mouth, “Oh, and I pinched this from Sleazy’s pocket.” He held up the photo of Victor’s dog. “Do I deserve a kiss from the great god of figure skating himself now?”

Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands. “Yes.”

The press chose that moment to stop milling about uselessly on the side somewhere and circle the living legend and the runner up as their kiss really got going. Cameras were primed and aimed at the two skaters to document this historic event as well as any deep and meaningful words that would be said afterwards.

Yuuri, knowing full well the kind of crap newspapers loved writing about, waited until he got enough before pulling away and saying, “Well, babe? My room or yours this time?”

“I-I don’t know,” Victor admitted, his hands on his head, looking dizzy.

Yuuri laughed. “You might want to take your skates off first, though.”

And he knew that regardless of what the press wrote about them the near future was going to be full of innocent sappy dates. And probably ice cream.

He saw another skater coming down the hall towards them and tried to remember his name. Wasn’t he friends with Victor?

“Kiss me again,” Victor said, turning around to face him.

“What’s this I hear about you two going out?” the skater asked.

And then hell arrived in the shape of Victor’s coach. He barged past everyone, elbowing people out of his way until he was right in front of Yuuri. “You! Stay away from my pupil! You got that?”

“No, Yakov!” Victor stepped between them. “Yuuri is my boyfriend and I won’t let you hurt him!”

Everyone in the hallway suppressed the urge to burst out laughing. It was obvious from the expressions on their faces how much they wanted to laugh at the living legend at that moment.

“Really, Vitya? Why are you encouraging these silly rumours?”

“They’re not rumours! It’s true!” Victor protested.

Yuuri put an arm around him. “You got a problem with that, old man?”

Yakov had the look of someone who just discovered that the hurricane that he’d been hearing about was about to come and tear his own house apart. “Absolutely not!”

“Then I’m retiring from figure skating!” Victor exclaimed.

Everyone went absolutely silent. The words echoed down the hall.

“I’m retiring,” Victor repeated in a quieter tone of voice. “Let’s go, Yuuri.” He caught Yuuri’s hand in his own and smiled. “I can be your coach, if you want.”

They went inside the change room, still followed by the stunned crowd. Under several pairs of watchful eyes Yuuri lowered himself onto his knees in front of Victor and removed his skates. It wasn’t comfortable, because he was still in skates himself, but in that moment it didn’t matter: he’d just snatched the living legend away from the whole world and he was going to flaunt the fact as much as he could.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered, blushing.

“You can’t decide to retire just like that!” Yakov burst out, apparently remembering how to speak.

Victor ignored him, staring into Yuuri’s face. “I’m all yours, Yuuri,” he said with a big smile, taking Yuuri’s head in both hands.

Much later there was the backlash from the press. There were nasty rumours going around about Yuuri and his influence over Victor. People said it was blackmail, or that Yuuri had somehow bullied Victor into going out with him. Someone brought up abuse.

No one knew that that evening they sat outside on a bench, their arms around each other.

“I like the dark,” Victor whispered. “It’s so mysterious…” He looked into Yuuri’s face.

“You’re not really going to retire?” Yuuri asked.

“Of course not!” Victor said. He pulled the photo out of his pocket. “Do you really have a dog just like mine?”

“Yep.”

“What’s his name?”

“Victor.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “You didn’t…?”

“No,” Yuuri lied. “There was a boy named Victor I was in love with when I was younger. He had long blond hair and he was really good at figure skating.” Crap!

Victor chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” But you’re going to be smug about this, aren’t you?

“My dog’s name is Yuuri,” Victor said.

“Yeah, I always wondered about that…” Yuuri (not the dog Yuuri, but the skater Yuuri) admitted.

“There was this boy I was in love with when I was younger,” Victor went on. “He had short black hair and he was very good at figure skating.”

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds as the meaning of what they’d said to each other sunk in.

“Seriously?” Yuuri asked.

“Yep!” Victor beamed.

“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who acted like a moron all these years.”

Victor laughed and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck, reaching out for Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri?” he whispered after a while.

“Hmmm?” God! That feels really good!

“H-have you gone out with anyone before?”

“Nope.” And that was the absolute truth. He’d been too busy killing people to remember that apart from hate there were other emotions available (well, with Victor being the exception, as it turned out).

“S-so… um…” He paused and pulled his face away to look into Yuuri’s eyes. “D-do you know how to… um…?”

Yuuri laughed. “Not a clue.” He pinched Victor’s face again, laughing at his expression. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out. We can experiment and see what works and then write a paper into the medical journal of your choice.”

“Um…” there was that puzzled embarrassment again.

“I was kidding. You can worry about it, if you want, lose sleep and all that, but it doesn’t really matter. Not yet, anyway.” He released Victor and reclined against the back of the bench. “Besides, that’s what the Internet is for.”

How had they moved so fast? And with Victor Nikiforov of all people!

The world sure was full of odd surprises. He felt Victor rest his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes.

And there were probably more surprises in the future…

#Bad Apple #Bad Apple prompts #yuri on ice #fanfiction #AU #Victor Nikiforov #Yuri Katsuki #Yakov Feltsman #well a little bit

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lia-jones · 3 years

Text

Growing Together - Chapter Eight - Aftermath

Author’s note: This chapter has graphic descriptions of violence, as Andrea remembers a very specific episode of her abuse. If you sensitive to this kind of things, avoid the third part in italic.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were hers. They were red and puffy, almost unable to stay open. It was obvious that she had been crying for days. I tried to call for her, but only a raspy sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet.” I heard her instruct. “Your vocal cords must be sore from the tube.”

“She woke up?” I heard my father ask. “Andy, can you hear us?” He bolted to my mother’s side, allowing me to see his face.

“Andy, do you remember what happened to you?” My mother’s eyes shone again with tears.

I lied, shaking my head. I knew exactly what had happened. I wished that I didn’t.

“Do you need a blanket?” I felt Victor’s hand touching my shoulder. I turned my gaze from the jet window to face him, seeing concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok.” I quipped, turning to the window again. I could feel Victor watching me, but he didn’t speak another word.

“The pilot wants to let you know that we will be arriving in Loveland at 3 pm, local time.” We were informed by the flight attendant. “The duration of flight is estimated to be 11 hours. Should I prepare the bed?”

“Maybe for later.” Victor answered. “Put on some extra pillows for my wife as well.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as the flight attendant walked back to the booth.

“You have been very quiet since we left the clinic.” He held my hand. “Are you in pain? I’ll ask for a bottle of water so you can take an analgesic.” Victor motioned to press the CALL button.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I rubbed my forehead. Victor lovingly took my hand, lowering it to my lap.

“That doesn’t mean tired.” He quipped softly. “But maybe you should take a nap. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

I laid down beside my husband, letting him wrap a protective arm around me. His hand took mine, drawing soft lines on my skin.

“Are you comfortable?” I heard him whisper.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, trying to end the conversation.

“Do you need another pillow?”

“I’m sleepy.”

I felt his lips touch my hair.

“Good night.”

I got the pen and paper from my mother’s hand and placed it on my lap, writing furiously on it.

“The baby?” I wrote.

My mother sighed heavily, and took my hand.

“Andy…” She trailed off. I slapped the paper hard with my hand. Why couldn’t she tell me already? I knew he was dead, no embryo would survive that beating. But I needed to hear it.

“It’s incredibly rare, but it can happen to a woman to have a false positive pregnancy test.” My mother explained. “There was no baby. You weren’t pregnant.”

That was simply ridiculous. There was a baby, I was sure there was a baby. I had symptoms, my breasts were swollen, I was late, there was a positive test…

“I have something to tell you, Andrea.” My mother warned me, with tears in her eyes. “But you have to promise me you’ll be strong.”

I nodded, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, or what kind of strength would I need.

“You had severe uterine bleeding.” She held my hand tightly. “They had to perform a hysterectomy.”

I woke up, enjoying the soft sun and the earthy colors of our bedroom for the first time in a week. We were back in Loveland. I had left in Switzerland the dream of giving Victor a biological child.

What exactly does one do when one’s dream is gone? Until our trip to Switzerland, my infertility was a reality, but with the help of science, it could still be overcome. The dream was dormant, but still alive. Now, not even all the fighting in the world could make me have a child of my own. The dream was dead. The only thing left to do was to bury it, and move on.

Without much thought, I got up from bed and did what I did every morning, on a normal day: I went to the kitchen. And predictably enough, Victor was finishing cooking, the scrambled eggs and toast already on the table, a mug with coffee placed by my usual seat.

“Good morning.” He announced, as he added to the table some sliced fruit. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“The cramps seem to be gone.” I declared, making an effort to look perky. “ Will you give me a ride today? I need to go to LCG today, see how the remodeling is going. Any interesting news?”

My husband didn’t seem interested in the news, though.

“You’re going to work?” He frowned at me. “You had a procedure two days ago.”

I gently placed my forkful of eggs on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to think about Switzerland or my procedure. I just wanted to move on.

“Three days ago.” I corrected. “There’s a time difference. Besides, I’m fine, I’m just going to see the remodel, I’m not going to break any walls myself.”

I needed to sound as normal and healthy as possible if I was going to convince my husband. But the truth was, I was not only trying to convince Victor, I was also trying to convince myself. Except my body wasn’t in on my lie. I felt a painful cramp in my lower abdomen that almost made me double over, suppressing a whimper.

“I have to find my phone.” I got up from my seat carefully, before Victor could be any wiser. “I must have a hundred emails to return.”

Victor and I didn’t reveal what we were doing in Switzerland, just stating we had meetings with new clients there and would be extremely busy, so we kept communications to a bare minimum. When I went to the clinic for the procedure I turned off my phone, and because of all that happened after, I never remembered to turn it on again. The moment my device came to life, it started beeping non-stop.

I started skimming through the messages, already categorizing the most urgent ones to reply as soon as I got to my computer. My eyes lingered on one sent by Diane.

Aunty Andrea, I have arrived! I was born on August 19th, at 7 pm, weighing 6 pounds. I am a healthy and happy baby and I can’t wait to meet you. Mommy and Daddy say hi! Lots of love, Penny.

Below there was a picture of a sweet baby wrapped in a pink soft blanket, sleeping peacefully. I heard Victor speaking from behind me, leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to tell you after breakfast.”

I took a deep breath, afraid I might start to cry. Clearing my throat, I turned to him, trying to act as perky as possible.

“It’s ok, now I know.” I moved past him to the walking closet. “Penny looks absolutely precious.” I picked a shirt to wear. “I need to call Diane to know when it’s the most convenient to visit. They’re probably too tired to see people right now.”

“Just stop it already.” Victor scolded, making me start to get jittery. “I know you are unwell, you shouldn’t be going to work. You need time to recover.”

“No, what I need is a shower and to get back to my life. I can’t do that staying at home and moping.” I was desperate to get steaming water on my abdomen to ease the pain I was feeling. “Give me 20 minutes and we can leave.”

My wish to pretend everything was ok soon fell apart, as the dull pain I was feeling sharpened and made my knees buckle. The only reason I didn’t fall was Victor’s watchful stance, as he promptly gathered me in his arms.

“You’re not going to work today. Neither am I.” He sat me on the bed. “I’ll help you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, but no one is leaving the house today. You just had surgery, and you are still in pain.”

Despite my protests, Victor undressed me and took me to the bathroom, allowing me to shower by myself under the condition that he would sit outside the stall, waiting for me. I let the hot water dissolve the knots in my body, my mind reeling with thoughts of the recent events.

For the past two years, I had worked hard to get rid of all the marks Daniel left in me. I got my self-esteem back, fell in love, made a career for myself. But I couldn’t erase the mark that hurt me the most, my infertility. I had told everyone that I couldn’t remember what had happened, convincing them that my head injury or maybe shock had erased it from my mind. However, I was trying to spare their feelings. The truth was too cruel, I needed to keep it to myself, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. That day at the hospital, I swore to myself that what happened that night would die with me.

First, the memory came in flashes. I did my best to keep it hidden in the dark corner of my mind, but to no avail. It was overpowering me, to the point that I forgot where I was, and simply closed my eyes, finding myself on the cold floor of my old kitchen again.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Daniel circled me as I sat on the floor, wiping the blood from my nose. “Did you really think I would just let you walk away?”

He removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around my neck, tightening it as he kneeled behind me.

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go.” I fumbled uselessly to get the belt off my neck, almost passing out with the lack of oxygen. I was startled with his mouth whispering in my ear. “I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and suddenly smashed my head against the tile. After that, I couldn’t get up. The pain was so unbearable I was paralyzed and temporarily blind, my ears ringing loudly. The only thing I could feel was the blood pouring from my forehead and pooling on my hair and ears, and his voice, far away, like I was under water.

“I will let you live your pathetic miserable life.” He spoke with disdain. “But you will not have that child, or any other child.”

The first kick made the air suddenly leave my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe in anymore, before another kick followed. And another. And another. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry, I was helpless. The only thing I could do was hope he was wrong, and death would take me anyway.

The sound of the shower door opening startled me, my mind still somewhat fuzzy, stuck between memory and reality. The water stopped, I felt a towel wrapping around me, arms lifting me from the wet floor.

When I fully came to my senses, I was in Victor’s arms, his face close to mine, whispering. It was then that I realized I was gasping for air.

“Deep breaths.” I heard his voice in my ear, while he rocked me back and forth. “Take deep breaths, Andy.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that followed, making me shake violently. Victor held on tight to me, and I grabbed the fabric of his shirt like my life depended on it, wanting to escape the memory.

After seeing I was more relaxed, he helped me dress and laid me in bed.

“Talk to me.” He urged, as he pulled the comforter over me. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I just want to sleep.” My voice was weak as raspy, barely audible.

His hand rested on my back and lingered, as he seemed to ponder on what to do. After a moment, I felt the mattress rise as his weight left it, and I heard the sound of the door closing softly behind him. He came to the room numerous times, checking up on me. I pretended to be asleep in every single one of them, until he eventually grew tired of it and woke me up, stroking my curls.

“Your mother is on the phone, she wants to talk to you.” I opened my eyes, and his phone came into my line of sight.

“Tell her I’m sleeping.” I covered my head with the comforter.

“You need to talk to someone.” Victor’s voice had lost all his softness. “If not me, your mother. Take the phone.” He almost ordered.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her.” I turned my back. “Stop pressuring me.”

Victor unmuted his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m sorry, Mariana, she’s asleep. I’ll tell her to call you later.”

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to leave.

“You’re avoiding your mother now?” He scolded me.

“I’m not avoiding anyone, I just want to be left alone. Is that so difficult to understand?” I buried myself under the comforter.

“Yes, you are. You are avoiding your mother and you are avoiding me. Don’t think I don’t know you were pretending to be asleep every time I came to the room. You can’t deal with this all by yourself Andy, you need to speak up.”

I got up from the bed, running to the door, trying to avoid a discussion. I didn’t have it in me to fight. I was too weak. But before I could reach it, Victor pushed my back against the wall, resting his hands on it, blocking any exit for me. I was trapped.

“Victor, please, just let me go!” I begged, tears already forming in my eyes.

“I will not.” He spoke assertively. “Not until you talk to me.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. His forehead pressed on mine.

“Don’t hide from me, Andrea. Please.”

I felt the bad blood rising fast, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the frustration and the anguish of the past days came full force in one single wave, and before I could help it, it was spilling all over.

“What do you want me to tell you, Victor?” I felt so enraged I just wanted to scream at his face. “That I’m a horrible person that can’t even be happy for her friend? That I’m consumed by bitterness and jealousy? Or that I feel guilty for having let that piece of shit into my life, and take everything I held dear? Can you possibly understand what that’s like? He won, Victor. You are already paying the price for my bad decisions, I can’t let you pick up the pieces too.”

Victor grabbed my face with his hands, looking at me with piercing eyes.

“You are not a terrible person and you are not responsible for what happened to you. I understand this can be hard for you, but don’t avoid the people that love you. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk!” I yelled, frustrated. “I need normalcy, I need to feel like I’m not about to break, and I need space! I’ll figure it out by myself. Just let me figure it out by myself.”

Victor looked down, seemingly trying to hold himself back. After a moment, he let me go, walking away in frustration.

“What am I supposed to do then, sit idly as I watch you crumble to pieces? Pretend I don’t hear you cry? I will not see you like this and do nothing!“ He lifted his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. “I made a vow I have every intention to keep. In the good times and the bad, remember? It’s my duty as a husband to be at your side at all times, why won’t you let me?” He paused, looking down again. “Am I not good enough?”

His question felt like a bucket of ice dropping on me, freezing me to the core. In my mind’s eye, I could remember all the times I urged him to open up to me, worried about him. I could remember how I felt unwanted every time he pushed me back. Now, I was doing the same. I broke down sobbing, and immediately I felt my husband's arms around me, steadying me. Like they always did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” I pulled him tightly to me, taking the strength he was offering me. “You are more than enough, please don’t think otherwise. You are the man that I love, I need you.” I nudged his chest, letting all my anguish finally out, unrestrained. “I’m so sorry, Victor, please forgive me.”

“I’m here, my light, don’t cry.” He whispered softly in my ear, one hand holding the back of my head, the other running soothingly in my back. “All will be well, I promise. You are safe in my arms.”

#growingtogether #Growing Pains - Series #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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