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bigassheart · 4 years

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I’ve seen a couple posts about how everyone was wildly out of character and totally inconsistent this season and I’m just like... were you guys paying attention?

1. Luther

Arguably the biggest shift in character between the two seasons, but it makes sense. Luther spent a year fending for himself and thinking his entire family was dead.

This is the first time in his life that he had to hold down a job and actually live on his own. It was literally his first time living out in the world among anyone other than his family, and you can see in his reactions with the other characters from that life (the boss, his landlord, those kids that idolize him, and the waitress) that it has really mellowed him out. It has allowed him to be more normal, despite being very much not normal. You can see the way he’s so much more comfortable in his skin. Literally the only times he looks uncomfortable is when he’s fighting people, shirt off and body on full display. He’s still not comfortable with that, but he’s not trying to hide under huge overcoats anymore. He has people in his life who accept him for being a little weird, but really do treat him normal.

So is he a little less uptight and mission focused? Yeah. Because he can finally see another life, and it’s the life that he honestly did want in season 1 but felt like he couldn’t have because he was number 1 and he had a responsibility to his dad, his family, and the academy to be the leader. Having a year on his own frees him of all that.

But he also spent all that time thinking his family was dead and feeling so guilty about it. You can see in his very first interaction with Vanya, where he suddenly feels that responsibility again. He brings a gun, not knowing what’s going to happen and, despite what he told Five, he absolutely does still have that lingering feeling of responsibility. But then he sees Vanya and she’s not a threat and everything he has been holding in for the last year comes out. Because he does feel guilty as hell for what he did to Vanya, but also for the fact that his actions pushed her into causing the apocalypse. He spent a year with the knowledge that he did that and thinking that his family was dead because of his actions.

He’s willing to listen now because he spent a year living in a world where his actions killed his whole family. And now he finds out that that didn’t happen and he has a second chance. Of course he’s going to take it!

2. Diego

In the first season, Diego finally admitted that he wanted to be close to his family and that he cared about them and wouldn’t leave them again. He confronted the guilt about leaving, which he had previously denied. He realized the difference between revenge and honoring someone’s memory. But despite all that, he never confronted the reason why he, a grown-ass-man, wandered around the city as a leather clad, mask wearing vigilante.

So when we see Diego show up in 1963, that’s still who he is. He wants to be that hero and he finds an answer for how to be that hero in the first several minutes that he’s there. So he takes it. I mean, what else is he going to do? His family is gone. Maybe they’ll show up again. Maybe this is it. Either way, he’s on his own like he was before, so he’s got a duty to be the hero he has chosen to be.

And then he meets his dad again. Everyone keeps telling him he has daddy issues, and they’re right. He absolutely has daddy issues. He’s still trying to simultaneously prove that he’s good enough for his dad, but also doesn’t need Daddy’s approval. Except he does need it. He still desperately craves it and he feels gutted when his dad denies him that approval, even falling back into the stutter he had as a kid.

Now, despite the way we joke, Diego is not dumb. He is so observant and he makes some of the most poignant statements about his siblings and the way they see the world. He sees the people around them and he understands them, but he has never been able to completely turn that gift inwards and see those same things in himself. In this season, Lila breaks through all that and he finally sees himself in her at the end.

“Do you know how hard it is to trust people when your whole childhood was bullshit manipulation? Then why would you do that to me?”

Diego sees himself in Lila, in her failure to break away from her mother despite the fact that he knows she wants to. In the final episode, he sees that she is just like the rest of the siblings, but she doesn’t have to be. None of them have to be stuck with their daddy issues, because they have each other. They can support and care for each other. It’s the last step of the growth he started in season 1, moving beyond his tendency to define his life and his family through their father.

3. Allison

Throughout season 1, Allison struggled with whether or not to use her powers, but it was all centered around getting back to her daughter. When she appears in 1961, that motivation is effectively removed. She thinks everyone else is dead. She thinks that she is stranded in the past and that she will never get back. She finds a group of people to support her and before long... she finds her voice again.

It’s no coincidence that Allison’s first spoken words in the series come right after she gives Ray that pamphlet with a bunch of added notes. She finds her voice in the civil rights movement. She finds her power there. She finds a way to help change the world, to change reality, and she does it without her powers.

This is something she struggled with through the entirety of season 1, feeling inadequate for using her powers to get what she wanted, not knowing if anything was real or earned. Now she has the chance to earn everything without those powers and she is thriving.

And then she is forced to use her powers again. It all turns out fine, but now she’s showing off and experiencing all over again how good it feels to have power. She spent two years in a world where she was denied equal treatment, where she could be arrested and assaulted for any reason those with more power came up with. And now she feels that power... She doesn’t have to wait for people to give her respect. She can demand it. But the pain is still there, and it’s not enough to just be respected, because these people have hurt her. They almost killed her husband. They have used their power to cause pain to her and all those who look like her time and time again and now it’s time to understand what it’s like to be powerless, to be hurt and to be unable to stop it and...

And it’s scary. It’s scary to have that much power, to see how you could become the kind of person who uses your power to hurt others. And she knows that her power has hurt people she loves and suddenly she’s right back where she started.

Only not entirely.

She doesn’t shy away from her powers in the final fight. She is obviously still finding that balance and I would expect this struggle to continue for her in future seasons. Power can be addicting and Allison’s power is so strong. She knows the danger there, but she also knows that sometimes it’s needed despite the danger.

4. Klaus

Klaus is an addict. He finds obsessions to bury himself in to avoid dealing with reality. In season 1, he buried himself in drugs and booze. When he shows up in the 60′s, he finds a new drug to bury himself in: adoration.

Klaus is so impulsive and it’s not difficult to connect the dots of how one thing leads to another until suddenly everything is out of his control. Honestly, that’s the story of Klaus’s life, no matter where he goes. And then something changes. He gets tired of his cult and leaves. Except... that’s not really the reason.

After all this time, Dave is still the love of his life, and he knows he has an opportunity. He knows where Dave will be at this one time and he knows exactly what he has to change to keep Dave alive.

He also knows that Ben is going to have thoughts about this.

I know some people were disappointed that there wasn’t more Klaus and Ben bonding this season, but it makes sense that there is tension there. I think a lot of that tension comes from Ben’s circumstances, which I’ll discuss later, but Klaus is also not responding to that tension well.

They are fighting more than ever (not that they ever didn’t fight in season 1, where they spent much of their time being snarky to each other and Ben literally punching Klaus in the face for being an asshole), but the fighting is about something new this season. Ben wants his own life and Klaus is not in a position to give Ben what he really wants. We also learn that he has been carrying around this guilt for the last 17 years about forcing Ben to stick around as a ghost. He forced this half-life on his brother and now that it’s not enough for Ben, Klaus doesn’t want to deal with it. So he avoids and deflects and snarks and we see the toll on their relationship. We see it in the way he tries to deal with his plans around Dave entirely on his own. He focuses so much into that last ditch effort. He’s already in such a low place before this, so when that fails, we see him snap. We see him give up and crumble. And Ben falls back to his old role, trying to save Klaus from himself.

But the tension isn’t gone and Klaus’s guilt isn’t gone. We see it again when Klaus finally agrees to let Ben possess him. Klaus has always been afraid of his powers and being possessed is just as terrifying a thought as being surrounded by the dead. And yet he gives Ben that chance. It’s the last good thing he can do at that point.

I do wish we had gotten more closure for Klaus and Ben’s story. I think Vanya’s reveal could have been given a little more time, but that’s not really a problem with inconsistent characterization, so we’ll save that for another post.

5. Five

OK, who would argue that Five was out of character or inconsistent? He’s obsessed with stopping the apocalypse, is willing to cross a lot of lines to save his family, and constantly frustrated by his family’s failure to go along with his plans. This is textbook Five.

What I loved about this season was that we got to see Five finally meeting his father again. They interact as two adults, not as a child trying to find away to become his own person, frustrated by a lack of trust from his father. It allows Reggie to see Five in a different light and to actually provide advice in a constructive way, something he has almost never been able to do when viewing them as his children. But despite outward appearances and despite the fact that Five is a grown man, he still sees his father the same way he always has. He doesn’t register Reggie’s advice as advice. He hears that he’s striving beyond his abilities and that maybe he can only travel in seconds. He hears his father telling him he can’t handle time travel. That’s why he doesn’t try to actually take the very good advice until the very end.

An old dog can still occasionally learn a new trick and Five proves that true.

6. Ben

As I mentioned earlier, Ben is chaffing at his ghosthood. Maybe it’s because Klaus has been sober enough to keep Ben around solidly for 3 years. Maybe it’s because Ben is no longer spending all his time trying to keep Klaus alive and sober. Or maybe it’s the fact that he has finally found someone that he actually wants to spend time with. Whatever the reason, Ben wants to be alive this season.

Again, as I mentioned, that’s causing some tension. Ben doesn’t want to be tied to Klaus, but Klaus is ignoring that because he feels so guilty about it. Ben doesn’t want to admit that he was too scared to go into the light on his own, so they’re at a bit of a standstill.

And then Ben gets the opportunity to be alive again, if only for a while. And in a lot of ways, it’s wonderful! But it’s not the same as being truly alive.

So when the time comes, when he’s faced with that light again... he’s not afraid. He knows that it’s time to move on. He knows this isn’t where he should be, but he also got the chance to be there for his family. He misses them, but he got to talk to Diego and Vanya. He got to save Vanya. He got to save Allison and Diego and Klaus and Luther and Five and the whole world! So while he would have stayed, he’s not sad about leaving anymore, and he’s not afraid.

7. Vanya

OK, she was a little out of character because... you know. She had amnesia.

But aside from erasing her past, the amnesia allowed us to see Vanya without the anger and resentment that plagued her for all of season one. Vanya was always someone who was kind and loving, someone who cares enough to leave peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches out for a missing brother for years. Someone who knows the pain of not being seen and who will always take the time to truly see other people. She’s someone who wants to love and to be loved and to protect those she loves.

That was all here, with or without the memories. And as soon as the memories came back, so did the guilt and fear about what she had done, what she had become, terrified of what was inside her in a way that she was not when her powers first surfaced. But Ben is used to being afraid of what’s inside of him. He knows she’s not a monster and is the perfect person to explain that to her. And this time around, she has experienced the love and care and attention of her siblings (and Sissy) to back up those words. That’s how she finally accepts them as truth, how she finally accepts her power as a part of her.

Overall, there are things that I wish this season spent more time with, but there was nothing that I felt was out of character or wildly inconsistent. The characters still struggled with all the baggage from their shitty childhood, their fear of their powers, and the guilt in their past. Some struggled in new ways this season and some continued old struggles that had never fully been resolved. The season felt very different than the first, but it still felt like the Umbrella Academy. It was a good mix of new and old and a good mix of feel-good moments we have all been waiting for and frustrating and sad moments that just come with having a complicated family. I loved this season. And now, I’m going to go re-watch every episode.

#tua s2 spoilers #tua season 2 #tua analysis #The Umbrella Academy #tua #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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idga-buck · 3 years

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Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x reader fic #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan characters #idga fic #some and others

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1

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myqueenjudeduarte · 5 years

Text

Something Like Trust: Chapter 1

Here it is y’all... the fic you’ve been waiting your whole lives for... a 10k word first chapter of Jurdan BDSM.

Post-The Wicked King

Tags/Warnings: Slapping (in a sexual context), references to spanking, teasing, orgasm delay, uhh angst and emotional fuckery, BDSM obviously, alcohol, also alcoholism because Cardan is present, kind of exhibitionism, I can’t accurately prepare you guys for this fic so just don’t read it if you aren’t comfortable with BDSM relationships. The later chapters will have a lot more intense stuff so just... be warned. OH also warning for them both being COMPLETELY out of character like honestly y’all this is DISGRACEFUL.

Summary: “I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

Word Count: 9,426 I’m sO SORRY

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my fics!

Everyone who knew Jude Duarte came quickly to realize that what she sought, above all else, was power. Control. Influence. That she had long felt powerless, and that she remedied this through a combination of scheming and working to rise to the top.

And rise to the top Jude had.

There were few higher places for an 18-year-old mortal girl to be than by the side of the High King of Elfhame, ruling a kingdom with him. And there were few people more profitable to be close to than the High King himself.

There were times, though, when Jude — though she would never admit it — craved above all else a respite from the power. The control. The influence. Craved, in fact, a moment of return to that place of powerlessness, when the worries of the kingdom had been anyone’s but hers and she was free to rest and roam rather than reign.

And there were moments, now, after nearing 6 months since Jude’s return to Elfhame and eventual semi-reconciliation with Cardan, when Jude imagined herself as powerless once more and still imagined Cardan by her side, not ruling together, but simply being together.

When these thoughts struck Jude she would roughly and with decisiveness shove them to the back of her mind and pretend she had never experienced them. Jude could no more afford a break from her power than she could afford to become emotionally involved with her fellow ruler. These were thoughts she had no choice but to keep to herself, as she did most of her thoughts and all of her feelings.

Until tonight, when Jude was drunk.

Jude was, to be quite transparent, far past drunk. Jude was heavily intoxicated, and, she reasoned, through no fault of her own. She had overheard several subjects of Elfhame debating how, exactly, they were expected to take seriously a queen who was not only mortal, but didn’t even drink. The King, of course, drank his fill — why was the queen so serious all the time? How could she ever expect to fit in with faeries if she wouldn’t even let loose at a revel?

Jude, of course, wanted nothing more than power, and power was a child, born of respect and fear. She rationalized, then, that to fit in in Elfhame more fully would be to earn respect, and with respect, power. She gained from this the idea that she had no choice but to drink.

And drink she did.

Cardan looked on from his throne in bewilderment and something akin to amusement as Jude danced and drank with the people of Elfhame. He wanted nothing more than to join her in her drunken fun, but felt that this was something, strange as it was, she needed to do on her own.

When Cardan was falling asleep on the throne and the sun was beginning to make the day known, Jude finally approached the dais, stumbling and smiling and so, so stunning — at least, that was all Cardan could think of as she draped herself over her throne, positioned beside his.

“Cardan, I danced,” she said. Cardan made a most concerted effort to school his face into seriousness, or at least not to laugh at her. He didn’t want to ruin this.

“Yes, Jude. I watched,” he said in a low voice.

To Cardan’s surprise, he saw a faint blush spread over Jude’s cheeks.

“Did you?” she said, and pushed herself with some difficulty closer to him. “Would you like to watch me further? Perhaps in my chambers, and perhaps wearing less than we are now?” Jude whispered the words, but Cardan was still taken aback. It was rare — unheard of, really — of Jude to be so forward, or forward at all.

Cardan and Jude were no strangers to sleeping together, but Cardan usually initiated it, delivering smirks and pointed remarks until Jude rolled her eyes and almost admitted to having desire of her own. Now, though, Jude was too drunk to care that her want could be used against her as a weakness.

As strongly, though, as Jude’s words and posture affected Cardan, he was loathe to do anything with Jude that she would regret in the morning, or that he would regret as taking advantage of the woman he had begun to admit to himself that he had feelings for.

“I think, my dear Jude, that you have had too much to drink for me to consider your admittedly delightful proposal.”

Jude merely smiled and closed her eyes, swaying slightly. “I love it when you call me dear,” she said softly.

Cardan felt a pressure on his chest, the sensation that his ribs might break and puncture his heart and end his immortal life right here and now.

“And I love that you’ve told me that, but I think I should return you to your chambers before you say anything else you will hate yourself for in the morning.” The words were sad, and so was Cardan as he considered what Jude would likely do to herself for even that small admission.

Jude and Cardan didn’t share chambers, and certainly not for Cardan’s lack of trying. Jude refused to become closer with Cardan than sex and a rare moment of shared silence afterward, than discussing the workings of the kingdom. Cardan had asked — near begged, really — Jude to move in, but she had steadfastly refused to assent.

“Your chambers, today, I think,” said Jude, her voice low. Cardan felt his blood heating despite himself, but pushed the thoughts away — now was not the time to lose himself in his passion for her.

“My chambers, then, but to sleep.”

Jude positively pouted. “You’re no fun. Why are you no fun? I’m supposed to be the no fun one.”

Cardan smiled at that. “Yes, those are our usual roles, aren’t they? But tonight, you’ve had a little too much fun, so I am saddled with the role of the serious.”

Jude continued to pout. “Are you gonna take care of me?” she asked, brightening slightly at the thought.

“For the night,” Cardan said quietly, before standing and offering Jude his hand. “On any other, you would run me through for the barest implication that you needed caring for.”

Jude laughed. “I wouldn’t run you through. You’re Cardan!”

“So I am,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t run Cardan through. I’d miss him.”

Realizing that Jude seemed to have forgotten with whom she was speaking, Cardan led her in silence to his chambers, still mulling over her words. It was nice, at the basest level, to hear that she had no desire to kill him. Even that small mercy took him by surprise. “My ruthless girl,” he thought, and then corrected himself. She was not his girl, after all.

When they arrived in his chambers, Cardan helped Jude into bed before lying down beside her. He may have been unwilling to engage in anything sexual while she was in her present state, but he had no qualms about taking advantage of it to be close to her. The morality of his behavior had improved over the past months ruling with Jude, but he adopted no pretense of being perfect.

To his shocked delight, Jude snuggled close to him, tucking her head against his chest when he rolled toward her. He tentatively placed an arm over her side, and she hummed happily. Jude and Cardan had shared time, shared kisses, shared rule of a kingdom, but they had not shared true intimacy since the night they were married. Until, that is, this moment, a moment Cardan placed quietly into his heart to cherish in the days, weeks, months of cold that were sure to follow this night.

He thought this was the end of the happy moments, that Jude would drift off to sleep and that he would face an angry, hungover mortal the next day, but instead, Jude spoke.

“I know I’ll be too afraid to say this tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’m not so drunk as to forget my own nature.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—“

“I’m cruel to you anyway, Cardan, wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say now and face my wrath tomorrow?”

Cardan remained silent.

“Sometimes I don’t want this power,” Jude spoke, slowly, softly. “Sometimes I want to feel powerless again, to feel like the weight of a kingdom doesn’t rest on our shared shoulders. Like we’re kids again, like you’re treating me badly during lessons on warm evenings in the gardens. Or like we’re older, and you’re kinder, and we have time to be away from all of this. Can you imagine if we had the space and time to be powerless, even for a second?”

Jude sighed. “I know it makes no sense,” she said, “I know you think that everything I am seeks power, but there’s something else there, inside me. Don’t forget that there’s something else, ok?”

Her words grew more desperate, and with the desperation, more slurred, as she continued speaking. But Cardan barely noticed her fading — an idea had come to his mind, one he could not release despite its insanity, despite the fact that all would be lost when they woke.

“It makes perfect sense, Jude,” he spoke as she drifted off to sleep. “And I know exactly what you need.”

—

“What is it?” These were the first words Cardan heard upon waking. He had slept until nightfall, they both had, and he could see the rays of the setting sun outside the window, the pink and purple hues of the night-turning sky. For a moment, he didn’t even process the question.

“What?” he asked sleepily, beginning to sit up only to find a hand on his chest pinning him to the bed.

“I asked you what it is,” Jude said, voice nothing more than mildly annoyed despite the harshness of her actions. “What is it that I need?”

“You remember that?”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I may have been mildly intoxicated, but I still remember the morning, Cardan.”

Cardan smiled at what she termed “mild” intoxication. “Do you truly want to know?”

“Yes.” Her voice was solemn now, almost nervous, as if she could sense that his answer would not be an easy one.

It wouldn’t.

Cardan’s smile turned to a smirk as he looked up at her, hair and clothes rumpled from sleep, eyes wide with anticipation. She was beautiful, and he was glad to be telling her this, despite how she would surely react.

“I was thinking, my Jude, of an arrangement of sorts.”

“What kind of—“

“Let me finish, Jude.”

She was quiet.

“I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

“You would take charge of the kingdom?”

“I would take charge of you, Jude.”

There was silence for several moments, utter, complete silence as Jude studied him. He expected at any second for her to yell, hurt him, get up and leave, or in some other way snap. It would be worth it. But, to his surprise, she merely said,

“Explain.”

And explain he did.

“I would take charge of you — specifically of your body, and specifically sexually, but your mind would follow, I expect. My every command you would follow, or risk punishment. This could be situational or constant, depending on your level of comfort. That means that we could either have assigned stretches under which these conditions are met — you obey me, I care for you, and the focus is on the sexual — and the rest of the time we would be the same Jude and Cardan we are now, bickering and never once obeying the other, unless forced to do so” (this he said with a pointed look, reminding Jude of their past arrangement). “Alternatively, we could have a constant arrangement, one in which you always obey my commands or you are punished. In this way, you could both have power and powerlessness simultaneously, depending on the situation. Both of these, I assume, sound far outside your comfort, but Jude, I implore you to at least consider what I suggest, even if you do no more. Consider what it would mean for you.” With this last desperate plea, Cardan fell silent, awaiting the stormy anger he expected from Jude. This time, his expectations were met.

“Do you think,” she said in the deadly calm he had learned to fear in their time together, “that I trust you, Cardan?”

“No, but I think that you need to.”

“For this? For your deranged sex idea?”

“For this, for our ruling together, for our marriage, for your health.”

“Our marriage has been a sham since you exiled me,” she spat, bringing up wounds Cardan had never been so bold as to think healed.

“I should like it not to be.”

There was a moment of silence before Jude spoke once more.

“What kind of punishments?”

Cardan felt acutely the whiplash of this conversation.

“Some physical, some lack of privileges, depending on the intensity of the relationship. Some pleasant and playful and some less so.”

“Would you ever hit me?”

“Only with your explicit permission and desire.”

“Hit me. I desire it.”

Concentrating on the effort not to let his shock and his own desire show on his face, Cardan brought a hand up from where it had rested on the bed, reached to where Jude still hovered over him, and slapped her thigh, hard. She still wore her dress from the revel of the night before, allowing his hand to connect with bare skin.

Jude gasped in surprise, then rolled onto her back beside him.

“And what if I did obey?” was her next question, asked tentatively.

“I would reward you.”

“What kind of rewards?”

“Would you like me to demonstrate those, as well?”

Jude’s silence served as assent, and Cardan rolled onto his elbow to hover over Jude’s frame.

“I might start like this,” he said, trailing his hand across the high neckline of Jude’s dress, over her throat.

“And move lower,” he added, running his hand over her chest to cup her breast gently. “Like this.”

Jude bit her lip, rubbed her missing fingertip against her thumb, the tell-tale sign of her nervousness. Cardan continued.

“I might tease you a bit, even when you had been good, because the important aspect of this is that you are subject to my desires. No matter how good you’ve been, if I want to punish you, I may, and if I want to reward you, I will do so at my leisure.” As he spoke, he grazed his fingertips over her breast, studiously avoiding her nipple. She wasn’t wearing a bra — she must have removed it in her drunken sleep, and he could see the peak of her nipple under the thin fabric of her dress.

When, after several long minutes, he finally brushed her nipple with his knuckle, Jude breathed a sigh of pleasure.

“Here,” Cardan said, pausing his ministrations, “I might give you an order. I might tell you to be quiet, or not to move, or both, and if you break the rules...” he slapped her thigh hard once again. “You might find you rather dislike the results.”

Cardan could see the effect he was having on Jude and pushed forward, wanting nothing more than to convince her that this was what she needed. He had never expected to get this far on a subject he expected her to shut down immediately, and he would not sacrifice the opportunity.

“Next, I might move lower...” he slid his hand down over her stomach, felt the softness there that covered hard muscle.

“Down to here, perhaps,” he said as he reached the junction of her thighs. “And since this is a reward, I would likely not make you wait too terribly long for what you would so desperately, desperately want.”

As Cardan’s hand slipped under Jude’s dress, he felt the wetness between her thighs and knew his words and actions had their desired effect.

“I see that this is already what you desperately, desperately want, my dear Jude?”

Jude’s hand darted out and clasped Cardan’s wrist, pulling it out from under her dress. He could never hope to be stronger than her, so he waited in anticipation for what she would say.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and Cardan relaxed slightly. “Alright, Cardan. Let’s try. You have tonight to convince me that this is anything other than a horrible idea.” Here she paused, and he saw a shadow come over her face, knew that whatever she was about to say was hard for her.

“I don’t trust you, Cardan, and maybe I never will—“

“Jude—“

“But,” she said emphatically, “I’m willing to try. To see how it goes. And besides, I suppose that I trust you more than most people in my life, okay? That’s something.”

Cardan felt the familiar chest-crushing feeling as he gazed at her in the wake of that admission, one that would have been small had she been anyone but Jude Duarte.

“Does my time start now?” was all he replied, not wanting to get emotional and ruin this moment.

“I suppose,” she said, feigning a lack of care when Cardan could tell she was still flustered from his actions.

Cardan leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Jude’s lips. To his continual surprise, she didn’t pull away- instead, she reciprocated, deepening the kiss slightly. This, if nothing else, revealed how aroused she was, and Cardan couldn’t help but smile at her willingness and desperation.

When he finally pulled away, it was because Cardan had business to attend to before they could truly begin the day that might change everything.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, and they happen to be the type of things that are best gone over with paper and pen.” He moved to retrieve both of those items, and to his delight Jude remained still on the bed, awaiting his return. Perhaps, he mused, she would be more obedient during this whole endeavor than he ever expected.

When he returned, Cardan sat cross-legged on the bed as Jude drew a knee up on which to rest her chin.

“The first item we need to discuss is your limits. These are the things I am absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to do to you or to order you to do. These can be sexual or not, and this list can be edited at any time as you think of more.”

“I don’t...” and here Jude paused, taking a moment to overcome embarrassment over what she was about to say. “I don’t think I know enough about the things we might be doing to know what my limits would be.”

“And that is utterly acceptable,” Cardan said, rushing to reassure her. “They can be anything. For example,” and with this, he ran a hand down the side of her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no qualms about being slapped. If you did, we would add it to the list. But if it helps you, I can list some things I may do and you can enlighten me as to how you would respond to them.”

Jude nodded, and Cardan steeled himself against his arousal, driven higher by the prospect of listing potential acts, to focus on the task at hand.

“How would you feel,” Cardan asked, “if I made you wait to orgasm for, say, 2 hours as I teased you?”

Cardan could see, feel the change in Jude’s posture as she became more aroused.

“I’m sure I would not feel good about that in the moment,” she replied, eyebrows raised, “but hearing about it, it sounds... appealing.”

“And if I made you wait for a day?”

Jude snorted. “As if you have the time as High King to take an entire day to tease me.”

“Nothing would be stopping me from ordering you to tease yourself when I was otherwise occupied.”

Jude flushed now. Cardan had been trying, to little avail, to help Jude become more comfortable talking about sex. They were doing it, after all, but outside of the act itself when Cardan brought it up Jude often became irate or uncomfortable.

Maybe, Cardan mused, some part of that was to do with the fact that he, as frequently as possible, brought it up loudly and in public.

Still. This conversation was a significant step towards growing Jude’s comfort in the topic, and Cardan planned to milk the opportunity for all he could.

“And if I didn’t have the time?” Jude asked at length, returning to the conversation.

“You might be surprised,” Cardan said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Jude’s ear, “how easily you can slip out of a meeting and into a closet when the threat of my hand on your beautiful ass looms over you.”

Jude tried to jerk away from Cardan, but he held her chin tightly and pulled her back.

“You forget, I think, that we have already begun. You will not pull away from me, do you understand?”

Jude flushed hotter and grumbled something that resembled, “okay.”

“That was your first and only warning. Back, now, to the limits. Answer my last question.”

“Yes, I think I would accept waiting a day.”

“And a week?”

Jude’s eyes grew wide. “I... would prefer not to, but it isn’t a limit.”

Cardan, alert to the smallest minutiae of Jude’s actions, noticed as she shifted near imperceptibly closer to him. He smiled inwardly. What this small action conveyed to him was that his plan to make Jude desperate for his attentions, both sexual and non, before they even began was beginning to work.

“And if I wanted to brand you?”

“Limit.”

Cardan grinned, having known, of course, that this would be the answer.

“And there, my dear, is an example.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry that I needed to make clear that ‘permanent disfigurement’ is off the table.”

“You need to make everything clear, Jude, to reduce the possibility of my doing something that genuinely distresses you. And,” he said, growing serious, “I will allow it for now, but when we are done with writing and discussions and begin in earnest, I will expect a more respectful tone from you than that.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll punish me?”

Cardan could hear in Jude’s voice that her reply was no form of backtalk, but one of apprehension and excitement.

“Yes, Jude,” Cardan said, leaning closer once more. “I will punish you, and you will not enjoy it.”

“And if I do?”

Cardan frowned. “It is... a complicated line, to answer you with honesty. I want you to enjoy all that we do, because that is the main purpose of all of this. My role, above all else, is to protect and care for you while putting you in positions of vulnerability, and to make sure that the things we do while I am in control serve you well. However, a part of your enjoyment and powerlessness will be the knowledge that when you transgress, you will be corrected, and that the correction will make you want to avoid repeating the offense. So while I want you to enjoy the process, I do not expect you always to enjoy the particular instance of punishment. Confirm whether or not that makes sense to you.” This was Cardan’s attempt to help Jude grow used to following orders, and it succeeded as she obeyed without question on this small matter.

“Yes, it makes sense.”

Cardan saw Jude rub her legs together, almost too lightly to be noticeable, and smiled.

“Growing a bit desperate, are we?”

Jude scowled, then realized herself and schooled her face into neutrality. Cardan smiled wider at this indication that she was beginning to behave.

“Are you trying the teasing thing now? Trying to make me desperate?”

“Oh, Jude. If and when I tease you, I strongly suspect you shall know. No, when we finish this,” and he waved the paper and pen, “I will make sure your desperation is alleviated.”

“Then let’s get back to work.”

“Begging?”

Jude scoffed again, then looked guiltily at Cardan. It would take some time to break her of these habits, and Cardan fully expected to enjoy every moment of doing so.

“You are free to try to make me beg,” she replied, opting for a neutral statement that still conveyed her derisiveness.

Cardan smiled. “I love a challenge,” he retorted, “thought I doubt that it will be one after I have brought you to the appropriate headspace.”

“What does that mean?”

Cardan set down the paper and turned toward her for this section of the explanation.

“Sometimes, during arrangements such as the one we’re forming-“ At this, Jude raised her eyebrows, reminding him that this arrangement was far from settled.

“The one I hope to form,” he corrected himself. “During these arrangements, there is a certain state of mind you can enter. I have done it at the hands of others- it is a most wondrous, delightful feeling, as though everything in the world is taken care of and the person in control can do no wrong. I tell you this in advance of its happening because I want you to know that I in no way am provoking this state in you for my own gain, or so that you will think more highly of me. I do it because I want you to feel that incredible feeling, and to feel that you are safe and cherished. Do you understand?”

Jude nodded, but then a shadow passed over her face, as though thinking of something she would rather not.

“How do you know all of this? Who made you feel that way? Have you made others feel that way before?”

The jealousy present in her tone was uncharacteristic, and Cardan couldn’t help experiencing a rush of pleasure as he heard it.

“I have a good deal of experience with the topic, and a good deal of knowledge in how it can go poorly,” he answered with a sad smile. “There was a time when, in search of that feeling, I would entrust myself to anyone willing to help me. Many of them took advantage of the situation to cause me pain, not that I can say I didn’t often deserve it. But this is my promise to you, Jude - I will cause you pain, but it will never be more than you can tolerate, it will never be emotional pain, if I can prevent it, and it will never be for the reason that I want you to genuinely suffer. If I punish you, it is to correct you, and if I hurt you because I want to, it is for both of our pleasures.”

“But to your other question. Yes, I have made others feel this way, but never one who I... cared for, as I care for you. It will be entirely different. I hope you can believe that.”

“Nicasia?” was all she replied, unwilling, of course, to acknowledge the depth of feeling in his statement.

“Among others.”

Jude nodded, apparently satisfied for now with his answers.

“I think I understand the limits now. I would not like to be permanently disfigured,” she said with a pointed look, “nor would I like to be overly disgusted by anything we should do.”

“Elaborate.” He knew this would be a challenge for Jude, to speak explicitly about her likes and dislikes.

“I would not like... spit,” she said, “if that was even an option. Nor would I appreciate an excess of any fluid to touch me. I would like to remain relatively clean. Is that—“ Jude caught herself about to ask if that was acceptable and stopped there, frowning as it came to her attention that she had already begun to enter a place of asking his approval.

“Yes,” Cardan answered, as if she had finished the question. “Very good. Lie on your back.”

Jude tentatively did as instructed.

Cardan leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her breast and pressing light kisses along its top, still working through the fabric of her dress. His tongue moved lower to circle her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, hard. Jude gasped in pleasure and Cardan hummed against her tender flesh.

He pulled back, but left a hand lingering on her cheek. “When you do as you are instructed, you are rewarded,” he said lightly, before returning to the paper. Jude tried to sit up with him, but he held up a hand.

“I want you in that position until I indicate otherwise.”

Jude lay back down.

“Good,” said Cardan with a smile. “Now. Any other limits you can think of currently? It is completely understandable if not, and we can add more at any time.”

Jude shook her head.

“Then we will move on to apprehensions. What are you apprehensive about going into this?”

Jude thought for a moment before replying.

“Vulnerability,” she said slowly. “Putting faith in someone other than myself, not that I even have too much of that in myself lately.” She turned her head away after speaking, realizing she had shared more than she meant to.

Cardan reached over to take her hand gently. “Keep going.”

“Being without weapons, without defenses. Being in a situation where I need to be protected. Being in a situation where I can’t protect you.” The apprehensions came out of her in a rush now, to Cardan’s relief.

“I’m also apprehensive that I will be bad at this, that I won’t be able to bring myself to be obedient and that you will quickly tire of trying to correct me.”

“Oh, Jude. I will never tire of correcting you, and you never need worry that you will be too disobedient. You have already shown me, given your actions of tonight alone, that you will be good at this, not that there is even a way you could be bad.”

Jude shot Cardan a quick grateful look before continuing.

“I’m apprehensive that this is going to make me seem weak.”

“To me?”

“To you, to the kingdom. To anyone who knows.”

“No one will know without your express permission, Jude. Besides, who would I tell?” Cardan spoke the words with some bitterness, reminding Jude that he had few people in his life besides her. The thought crossed her mind that she should endeavor to treat him slightly more kindly, as he had her.

“Those are all of my apprehensions for now,” was all she said. “What else do you need to write down?”

“You need two words - one which stops everything we are doing completely, and one which signals me to make sure you are okay before we continue.”

“Nicasia and Locke.” She answered without hesitation.

“Fitting,” Cardan said, amused. “Our ex lovers.” He hurriedly wrote down her answers before continuing.

“What shall you call me?”

“Cardan, perhaps?” she answered sarcastically.

Cardan frowned at her.

“A name which denotes respect, Jude. May I suggest ‘My Lord’ or ‘My King’? I won’t make you go so far as to call me master.”

“My Lord,” Jude replied after a brief moment of consideration.

“Good. For the rest of the night and day, from this moment on, you will address me as ‘My Lord’. You will respond to my questions with answers like ‘Yes, My Lord’ and ‘No, My Lord.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Jude said quietly. Cardan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Good. That concludes the information I need to gather for now. I will store this sheet safely for future use.”

“You seem quite confident that there will be future use.”

Cardan raised an eyebrow but let the disrespect in her tone slide. “I think you need this, Jude, and I think you will come to realize that by the end of the time you’ve allotted me. Another thing to note is that from this moment forward, I will not take your disrespect quite so lightly.”

Jude nodded once, and Cardan seized her chin in his hand once more.

“Say, ‘yes, My Lord’.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude replied, averting her eyes, still unable to believe she had put herself in this position.

Cardan smiled. “So far, you have been fairly obedient, and completed all that I’ve asked of you with a minimum of complaint. Frankly, I’m impressed, and I do plan to reward you.”

Jude shivered.

“But first, I want to address something you said earlier, about my viewing you as weak. Jude, to submit to my control will be the ultimate show of strength. I know what it would take from you, and how bold you will have to be in order to do so. I will never, never think you weak for giving up a small piece of your power. I will see you as all the more powerful for it, do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said quietly.

“Good. Then let us begin.” With that, Cardan returned his mouth to Jude’s breast, licking and sucking over the fabric of her dress as his hands inched the bottom upward, baring her upper thighs. He finally pulled back to remove her dress entirely and stayed hovering above her, gazing down at her near-naked form.

“Tell me what you think of your body, Jude.”

Jude blanched, and Cardan could see the panic in her eyes, wondered if he had gone too far. Then, though, she reminded herself of his prior words - that this was strength, power, not weakness and defeat.

“I think it is strong, and serves its purpose, but is out of place among those of the faeries. You are all so... well, thin, and I am not. I have always wished to look as you do, despite knowing I never can.”

Cardan nodded, having suspected exactly this response.

“And would you like to know what I think of your body, Jude?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I think your body far surpasses the beauty of that of any faerie I have ever seen. I think there is nothing more attractive to me than your muscles and flesh. I think that the more of you there is for me to touch,” and he touched her, “kiss,” and he kissed her, “and caress the more I will be satisfied. And I think that your body gives you life, and that is the most beautiful thing of all. After the undersea, when you had so little flesh on your bones, I was terrified. I would never want to see you like that again. I am grateful for every day that you have enough to eat, and I count myself lucky to share the bed of someone strong enough to snap my body in a heartbeat.”

Jude laughed at this. “I meant what I said, though. I wouldn’t kill you.”

Cardan put his hand over his chest and said with mock sincerity, “and you have no idea what that means to me,” but they both knew it was far from sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Jude said softly, “my lord, for what you said.”

“I speak only the truth, unlike some,” he replied, touching her face lightly. “Anyway, Jude, would you like me to return to the task at hand?”

“Very much so — my lord.” He heard her stumble, forget herself for a moment, and resolved to push her deeper into the headspace she so desperately needed to enter.

He started by kissing his way down her stomach, running his tongue along the bones of her hips, the line of her pelvis. He nipped the skin of her inner thigh gently, causing her to yelp, and grinned against her.

Finally — finally — he attended to her burning need, pulling her remaining underwear down her legs and situating himself between them. He heard her give a sharp intake of breath as she realized what he was going to do, as she did every time they did this, and smiled once more at the familiarity of the situation.

With one hand, Cardan spread Jude before him, as he pressed his tongue against her folds.

“Spread your legs for me, Jude, dear,” he muttered against her, and she squirmed even as she did as he asked. Demanded.

When she had obeyed, he resumed his actions in earnest, licking and sucking with vigor, trying to bring her to the edge as quickly as possible. He entered her with two fingers so suddenly that she gasped in surprise, and he pulled back to grin up at her and gaze at her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Your nipples. Touch them,” he commanded, and she did as instructed, pulling and rolling them between her fingers, moaning lightly at the sensation and more loudly as he curled his fingers inside her, still watching.

“You are stunning,” he said simply, before resuming the work of his mouth against her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, slowly at first, but increased speed with his tongue and fingers until she was on the edge, crying out that she was about to go over it.

He stopped all motions, pulled back, and said, “hands at your sides.”

“I thought this was a reward,” she said, anger flashing in her eyes even as she obeyed.

“It is,” he replied. “The reward is the fact that I’m touching you at all. And I don’t appreciate your attitude. Spread your legs.”

She had snapped them closed in the wake of his motions ceasing, but opened them again now. Cardan pushed them farther apart roughly.

“In the future, know that it is my right to stop touching you at any time, and that you have no leave to contest my decision. I won’t fully punish you now, because this is a first infraction, but I will give you a small reminder of your place.”

With those words, he slapped her directly on the junction between her legs, one of his many rings hitting her clit. While he congratulated himself on his excellent aim, Jude cried out in shock and pain.

“Car— My—“ she sputtered, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t provoke another slap. Cardan merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for her decision.

She stayed silent, biting her lip against the desire to protest and the residual stinging between her legs.

Cardan looked down at her. “Next time, your punishment will not be so easy to bear. And before I forget, there is a rule I want to set for the future- you ask me, rather than tell me, when you are close to orgasm. Do you understand?”

Jude closed her eyes briefly before responding. “Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan could see the struggle in Jude, sense the way she worked to control the impulse to resist him, and found himself impossibly proud.

He lay down beside her and began steadily stroking a finger in circles around her clit, so slowly that there was no risk of her coming from the stimulation. Jude bit her lip and moaned.

“Normally, at a time like this, I would be waiting for you to beg,” Cardan said conversationally, as if discussing the weather in Elfhame. “But, as circumstance has it, begging will do nothing for you here. I plan to let you come—“ with those words, Jude’s wide eyes shot to his, but he continued with a small smile “but not for some time.”

Jude’s face fell, but lacked the spark of anger it had earlier held. Good. That meant she was beginning to accept that she had no choice but to allow Cardan to do what he would with her pleasure.

He continued his gentle ministrations on her clit, listening for small moans and breathy sighs as she wished for more stimulation, for several minutes. Then, without warning, he rose.

“Get dressed,” he ordered.

“Why?” she asked, even as she stood from the bed.

Cardan raised an eyebrow by way of answer, and Jude paled.

“I will, My Lord.”

Cardan knew that Jude was likely still allowing this sort of behavior from herself by rationalizing that it was only for the night, but it still pleased him to see signs of her growing obedience.

Jude had dresses in one of the many closets contained by Cardan’s chambers, for those times when hers became rumpled and dirty and she didn’t want anyone to know what she had been doing or with whom. She pulled one on now, not bothering to search for a bra, knowing Cardan would likely stop her anyway. She did, however, pick her underwear back up from where Cardan had carelessly discarded it earlier, but he tsked and plucked it from her hands.

“Not tonight,” he said decisively, and she had no choice but to obey.

When she was dressed and had smoothed down her hair enough to be presentable to... wherever it was they were going, Cardan led Jude from the chambers and into the halls of the palace. When they reached the throne room, a horrible thought occurred to Jude. Surely, surely, Cardan didn’t expect her to spend hours on the throne as she usually did at night, watching revelers and hearing complaints from the citizens of Elfhame. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel, when she could still feel the wetness between her thighs and knew her clit remained as swollen as ever.

But he was so cruel, and in they went to settle on the twin thrones, side by side, perhaps an inch of space between the two seats.

“Bring a table,” he ordered loudly to the room, “with a cloth.”

Cardan was quickly obeyed, and a table was set before their thrones on the dais, covered in a white cloth that reached to the floor. To Jude’s shock, Cardan actually thanked the faeries that delivered the table. He was clearly on his best behavior in an attempt to convince her that this was a worthy arrangement.

Jude had no idea why Cardan would request a table when, again to her shock, he did not appear to be drinking. His reason soon became apparent, though, as his hand slipped across the space between their thrones and under her dress once more, blocked from the sight of the room’s revelers by the cloth on the table.

She realized at that moment that Cardan planned to keep her on the edge of orgasm for the entire duration of their time in the throne room, and closed her eyes as a flush began to rise on her face.

“My lord,” she said, too quietly for anyone but Cardan to hear her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” he responded, “because I know your limits, and because I am telling you that you can, and because you want to please me.”

Jude was surprised to find that she did, indeed want to please him.

“My lord,” she started again, “you aren’t drinking. I was just wondering why.”

Cardan’s face grew serious. “As greatly as it pains me to go a night sober, I don’t believe in engaging in this sort of... activity while intoxicated. One of my main responsibilities is to ensure that I can read you well enough to know your limits, and I can’t easily do so with an alcohol addled mind.”

Jude nodded, touched and realizing for the first time that Cardan’s role in this was as difficult, if not more so, as hers.

“So, in the hypothetical and far from plausible situation that we made this arrangement permanent...”

“I would still drink on occasion, but any rewards, punishments, commands, or otherwise would wait until my sobriety.”

Jude found herself slightly disappointed. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she worried about his drinking, about the fact that his drunken state seemed the only time he even bordered on happiness. Not that she did much to help with the misery he experienced in life.

All thoughts shattered in Jude’s mind as Cardan brought her nearly over the edge once more.

“My Lord, can I-“

He pulled away.

Had they not been in the middle of a room full of faeries, Jude might have cried out in frustration.

They passed the next hour in silence, Cardan bringing Jude to the edge again every time she got far enough from it to be comfortable. She spent the hour in misery, near writhing in her seat from the arousal. She knew she would have a damp spot on the back of her dress when they finally left the throne room, and couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t even care, in fact, that all of this was happening publicly, and that someone could rise too high on the dais and see what Cardan’s hand occupied itself with at any moment.

“Alright, Jude,” Cardan said loudly, finally taking pity on her. “Let us retire for the rest of the night.”

Jude sighed in relief and stood, following Cardan out of the throne room. When they reached his chambers, Jude had no time to react as Cardan pinned her to the wall, holding her wrists above her head.

“You’re mine, Jude,” he said, stroking her wrists with his thumbs. “I love having you as my own, to do what I will with. You have no idea how deliciously appealing you looked on the dais, sitting in your throne and letting me touch you like the slut you are quickly, beautifully becoming. Tell me - are you enjoying yourself?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan smiled. “It’s not nice to lie, Jude.” He slapped her in the face, hard enough to sting and take her by surprise but softly enough not to leave a mark. Jude exclaimed in surprise.

Cardan knew he had taken a risk, that face slapping was something they had not discussed and something with which Jude might be wholly uncomfortable, but she said nothing, merely looked at the floor in guilt.

And she did feel guilty — guilty for lying to him about her enjoyment in one last, desperate attempt to pretend this wasn’t exactly what she needed, that she couldn’t already feel a glimmer of the feeling Cardan had described, that she wasn’t close to total surrender.

“Look at me,” Cardan said softly.

Jude looked at him, biting her lip gently, willing him to forgive.

“There’s something important which I neglected to tell you.” He continued stroking her wrists in small, reassuring circles. “After I have punished you for whatever infraction you’ve committed, it’s over. I harbor no more negative feelings about it, and you have no more repentance to do unless I explicitly tell you otherwise. A punishment is an absolution.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude said, lifting her head in an attempt to push the conflict from her mind. “I will not lie again.” She meant the promise.

Cardan bowed his head. “Noted and appreciated,” he said, before looking up at her, sternly but with mischief on his face.

“Now. Get on your knees.”

Jude dropped to her knees immediately, growing more and more eager to please, and reached up to undo the buttons of his breeches.

“No,” he said, and stilled her hands. “Take off your dress.”

She obeyed, sliding it over her head eagerly and casting it aside, leaving herself naked before him once more.

Cardan cast his own shirt over his head and undid his breeches himself, much to Jude’s disappointment, before sliding off the remainder of his clothes.

“Start slowly, and using only your mouth.”

Jude obeyed, leaning forward to kiss her way up and down the length of him, pausing to give particular attention to the head before moving back down. Cardan braced a hand against the wall behind her.

“Lick me. Stay slow, but be thorough.”

Jude did as instructed once more, licking and gently sucking her way around his cock, over the head, pausing to swirl her tongue around his balls.

After several minutes, Cardan gave his next order.

“Pull as much of me as you can into your mouth. You may use your hands now, and do go a bit more quickly.”

Jude smiled, hearing the effect she had on him in his voice, and proceeded to do as told, sucking him into her mouth and blowing him in earnest.

Cardan’s sounds were like a reward, as they always were on the rare occasions that she did this, and she smiled as she worked on him, desperately wanting to bring him over the edge, desperately wanting to please.

“Jude,” he groaned, “yes, yes, like that.”

Quickly, Cardan went over the edge, spilling come into Jude’s mouth which she swallowed diligently before wiping her face with her hand. She smiled up at him when she finished, a mixture of sweetness and wicked pleasure on her face.

“Evil, talented girl,” was all he said before pulling her to her feet and pushing her across the room, onto the bed. “It’s my turn now.”

Jude did not point out that Cardan had, in fact, taken many turns already, merely lay on her back awaiting him. When he arrived, he quickly got back to the task at hand, spreading her legs and using his tongue to work her clit, alternating speeds to keep her from coming to the edge too quickly.

Still— after hours of torment, it was a matter of moments before she was at the edge, legs trembling hard beneath Cardan’s hands.

“May I come, My Lord, may I come?” she pleaded, close to begging, desperation evident in her voice.

“Yes,” he paused just long enough to say before resuming his ministrations.

He didn’t stop, nor even slow down, as she came, crying out and tangling her hands in his hair, chanting his name and “my lord” and “god, god, god” intermittently. Nor did he slow down when she came a second time, writhing beneath him. By the time she neared a third orgasm without a break, Jude had tears of pleasure and overstimulation in her eyes and was pleading with Cardan alternately to stop and keep going. He chose to continue, and she came four times before Cardan finally slowed to a stop and pulled back to look at her.

Cardan moved to the top of the bed and pulled Jude into his arms, head resting on his chest. She let out a slight whimper of protest, a part of her uncomfortable with this level of intimacy, but was too spent and needed to be held too badly to resist.

“Are you in a space where you can listen to me, my darling Jude?” Cardan asked, so heartbreakingly gentle in voice and touch that she felt as though her chest was cracking.

“Mm hmm,” she said in assent.

“Another important thing to remember about what we’re doing is that you must allow me to care for you. This is undeniably important. This sort of... play, if we might call it that, can only happen with the knowledge that I will care for you afterward. You cannot protest when I pull you into my arms after whatever we’ve been doing, whether punishment or pleasure. You cannot prevent me from tending to any injuries I may have caused or ensuring your safety, health, and wellbeing. If it is my responsibility to correct you, and to keep safely your power, then it is also my responsibility to care for you, and I take it quite seriously. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord, I understand,” Jude tried to say, but it came out more like “hmmlord derstand.”

Cardan smiled tenderly down at Jude, and knew in that moment that he was much farther gone than he had ever suspected when it came to his feelings for the woman he held.

Jude, for her part, was terrified. Since her return from exile, she had never allowed herself this kind of intimacy with Cardan, and she was shocked by how desperately she desired it. She was mentally and bodily exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms, but her mind would not allow her that, setting off all the warning bells of the danger she could be getting herself into by allowing this, and with him.

But she had promised to be honest, and knew that he would consider keeping her thoughts a secret when they needed to be shared a lie of omission, so she spoke.

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, and for a moment they were silent. “I don’t want to put pressure on you, but if you’ll give me the time to do this right, I’ll prove to you that you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Jude opened her eyes. “I want to,” she whispered, as though saying something shameful. “I don’t want this to end, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I do. I know.”

“Where did this resounding faith in my strength come from?” Jude’s words were teasing, but her sentiment was genuine.

“I’ve had it for a long time, I think. Since I’ve known you. I was cruel to you in part because it was easier than acknowledging my feelings and in part because I saw strength in you where in myself there was only weakness, and I hated you for that.”

For reasons Jude could not understand, the reminder that Cardan had ever hated her nearly brought tears to her eyes at this moment, but she remained silent as he continued.

“I now see that hating you for your strength was the solution of a child. You have my apologies and my regret.”

They both were silent, unspoken emotion crackling between them, for several minutes.

“Why can’t this be easy?” Jude said at last.

“It’s not too late,” Cardan whispered, and kissed the top of Jude’s head, the mortal curve of her ear, the tip of her nose. “Jude, admit that you need this.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I get to have it when it feels like giving up all that I’ve worked for.”

Cardan closed his eyes in frustration. “You’re giving up nothing, Jude! You would only be gaining a new form of freedom. You lose nothing by surrendering.”

“I lose the war between us.”

“What war!” Cardan exclaimed, raking his hands through his hair. “The war of children? The war of two people who have been horrible to each other and now have a chance to be good? There is no war for me, Jude - not any more.”

Jude was choking back tears now, impossibly distressed at having gone from the sweetness of a few moments ago to the harsh reality of their situation and of Cardan’s frustration with her.

“I’m sorry,” she started, but then Cardan was there and he was holding her again and comforting her and kissing her temples and oh god, Jude had never been so overwhelmed by emotion and sensation and desire.

“No, Jude, do not apologize. It was my responsibility to keep myself calm after putting you into that emotional place and I failed. The responsibility is mine, and I am truly sorry.”

Jude didn’t cry, not any more, but she came close now, squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears, and finally, finally assented.

“I don’t know what I can commit to, and I don’t know that I won’t back out at any moment, because I’m terribly, terribly afraid. What I do know is that I want this, and I’m willing to try.”

“That’s more than I expected from you, Jude,” and she could hear the grateful tone behind his words.

“We can try it all the time, if you still want to.” The words came out of Jude in a rush of nervousness, and Cardan took her trembling hands in his own.

“I would love to, Jude. Go get the paper and pen from earlier.”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said, already relieved to be back to this, showing her just how badly she did need this arrangement.

She returned with the paper, which Cardan quickly signed at the bottom.

“Sign this when you’re truly ready to begin,” he said. “I won’t rush you. You can take all the time you—“

With decisiveness, Jude signed the document.

#my fic #my posts #there we FUCKING GO #jurdan fic #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #judecardan #the cruel prince #tcp #the wicked king #twk #post-the wicked king

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pluckyredhead · 4 years

Text

Daredevil 101: Eurotrip!

This is going to be a long one, folks. I tried to trim it down as much as I could, since I don’t want these sort of intermediary stories to be taking as long to cover as they have, but I was left with cutting it up into two short chunks or giving you one hefty meal. I chose hefty meal, so loosen your belts and tuck that napkin into your collars, kids!

...This metaphor may have gotten away from me.

Last time, Matt escaped from jail and headed to Monaco to track down Alton Lennox, the elusive lawyer who, for some mysterious reason, hired the convict who killed Foggy - who the reader (but not Matt) has just found out is actually alive! We’re picking up with more of the Brubaker/Lark run, DD v2 88-93. The official storyline name is “The Devil Takes a Ride.”

Content Warning: Image of a dead body, mention of murder made to look like suicide.

We start with Foggy, who is trapped in Witness Protection, unable to contact Ben or Dakota or anyone else who might be able to get through to Matt:

It’s not actually clear who the FBI is claiming to be Witness Protecting Foggy from, at this point? All they know is that he was stabbed by a guy at Riker’s, who is now dead, and also Foggy isn’t in Riker’s anymore. Matt’s enemies in general, maybe?

Anyway, this issue is called “The Secret Life of Foggy Nelson” and it’s basically a love letter to Matt. Foggy's narration boxes are all directed at Matt (who can’t hear him, of course), as he explains that he’s always wanted to do the right thing, but he’s been so afraid, especially with the dangerous life they lead:

I’M CRYING. Also, I’ve always loved that Foggy envisions Matt saving him, not Daredevil. Even after he learns that the two are one and the same, Matt is always the part he loves.

Foggy eventually gets so desperate to escape Witness Protection and talk to Matt that he sneaks out of the house he’s being held in and hails a cab that is...idling around this remote suburban neighborhood...suspiciously...

Hmm, yeah, that’s not good.

Luckily, Foggy is rescued! By ninjas!

Foggy’s face in that first panel is amazing.

Anyway, I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Elektra is leading the Hand at this particular point in time, and she has ordered them to keep Foggy safe. Matt has no idea she’s doing this, of course - he doesn’t even know Foggy’s alive - but she knows what Foggy means to him. Also, she has a demonstrated soft spot for Foggy. I just love everything this says about all of them so much, even if I don’t know why the mafia wanted to kill Foggy. I guess they just be like that.

Thwarted in his escape, Foggy settles in to essentially wait for Matt to settle things in Europe and come rescue him. Meanwhile, Matt is being tormented by dreams of a bucolic Silver Age life with a living Foggy (and Karen!):

Aw, baby.

You can see that as is traditional for when Matt goes to Europe (or imagines going to Europe), he has dyed his hair black.

Matt is in Monte Carlo, because the only client he can find for Alton Lennox in Monaco, a mob boss named Tybold Lucca, runs a casino there:

Matt and his ill-fitting suit - I’m sorry, “Ray Mallory” and his ill-fitting suit - have been using his powers to win like crazy and thus draw Lucca’s attention. It works, as Lucca’s daughter Lily herself shows up to invite him to an exclusive party at the Lucca estate:

When Matt gets to the party, Lily doesn’t seem to be having a great time:

The scent thing is important. Lily reminds Matt of something, and he’s conscious of it enough to realize it’s making him want to bend over backwards to help her, without realizing exactly what - or who - she reminds him of.

The centerpiece of the event is a bullfight. After the bull is killed (Matt doesn’t enjoy that), Lucca announces the aforementioned deal with his “Spanish associate,” i.e. the bullfighter, Juan: Lily’s hand in marriage!

Matt’s moralizing over these strange cultures in the first panel makes me laugh. I know it’s another continent, Matthew, but it’s the same century.

Anyway, yikes! Juan has just killed Tybold Lucca! Also I don’t know how Matt knows the guy with the gray temples is Alton Lennox but whatever!

Matt Daredevils up, but Juan kidnaps Lily and Lennox and escapes in a helicopter. And that’s when something clicks into place, nose-wise:

I love this page. Why does Lily smell like Karen? Who is the mysterious mastermind behind, uh...a matador stabbing a gangster and said gangster’s daughter being kidnapped? What does this have to do with Foggy’s death? It’s a bonkers and extremely extra way of "explaining” this plotline, Brubaker, and I salute you.

Matt pursues Lily and Lennox, because they’re his only lead and because, well, it would be shitty not to. Lily’s scent haunts his dreams:

I love that all of Matt’s sweaty shirtless dreams about his conflicted feelings towards his love interests have Foggy in them, too. Just bro stuff!

Matt tracks the kidnapping victims to another opulent European mansion and finally catches up with Alton Lennox...but too late:

The man who hired Foggy’s killer has taken his secrets to the grave. But Lily is still out there. In fact, not only is her scent all over Lennox’s room, she’s actively being re-kidnapped:

This is Tombstone, who I don’t think has shown up in these recaps before? He’s a mob guy, gray skin, very strong, basically made of stone. A better sparring partner for Luke Cage than Matt “The World’s Most Breakable Bones” Murdock.

Tombstone gets away with Lily. Matt goes on the hunt:

This just makes me laugh. (In the first panel, I believe he’s saying “I can’t promise that you will land in the river.”)

Finally, one of the people Matt beats up mentions seeing Tombstone - and the woman he’s working for. And the whole plot flips over in Matt’s mind:

Yeah, Lily’s not the victim here - she’s the mastermind, or at least she thinks she is. Tombstone is working for her. She killed Lennox, or at least was there when he was killed. And that dude is Juan, the bullfighter, who killed her father so that they could be together and have all her father’s ill-gotten gangster money.

But how can she smell like both Juan’s mother and Karen? IS KAREN JUAN’S MOTHER??? (No.)

Matt finally catches up with Lily and her “kidnappers”:

Matt, you absolute tart.

Matt manages, rather ingeniously, to take down Tombstone, and the powerless Juan absolutely panics - like, to the point of something chemical going weird on him:

Juan kind of collapses after slicing Lily with the sword (not too badly; also wasn’t it a rapier before?) and Matt knocks him out. Matt then tells Lily he knows she’s been playing him, and demands that she come clean:

And so Matt finally confronts the mastermind behind all of this, the person who had Foggy Nelson killed, who hired Danny Rand to pretend to be Daredevil, who hired Lily and Juan and Tombstone, and who has had at least four loose ends murdered by now:

VANESSA FISK???

But why? Well, as far as she sees it, her life was destroyed by Fisk and Matt’s endless battle, in which she was essentially a pawn. (They don’t mention it directly, but it’s very worth noting that Matt once essentially held her hostage, after she had spent god knows how long as a presumably sexually abused prisoner, in order to manipulate Fisk. Matt didn’t, like, promise not to be a gangster and then marry her and then go back to being a gangster, but he’s not exactly innocent here either.) She is now dying of Killedherownsonitis - seriously, she’s like “the doctors don’t know why all my organs are failing, but it’s because I killed Richard” - and before she goes, she has a deal to offer Matt:

She has enough pull to get the charges against Matt dropped, meaning he can resume his normal life. In exchange, he will get Fisk out of jail. And from then, he’ll know that every time Fisk kills, it will be on his conscience. This is the kind of tortured logic superhero comics end up with, in a world where no one except civilians stays dead and jails have revolving doors, but trust me when I say that this reveal and all of Vanessa’s supervillain explanations absolutely work in context.

Matt’s like “YOU USED TO BE COOL, MAN”:

He refuses to take the deal and storms out. Vanessa tells her minions to put everything into motion anyway, because as she sees it, Matt is essentially selfish, and will ultimately act in his own self-interest.

And so, the FBI Guy who has been trying to bring Matt down for issues and issues and issues is found dead in his apparent from apparent suicide (killing people and making it look like suicide is Vanessa’s signature move, it’s the third one in the Brubaker run so far), along with a note saying he framed Matt who is totally super duper not Daredevil. And Really Incredibly Blind Matt Murdock is found wandering a road back in the States, having “escaped” from being “held captive.”

Matt being Matt, he decides to hold a press conference to explain his kidnapping/disappearance/reappearance, because Matt fucking loves holding press conferences:

Fratt shippers, please take Ben’s line as the gift it is.

Rather than spin the erotic tale Ben is clearly angling for (and that Frank, watching his on his Murder Van TV, is dreaming of), Matt spins some bullshit about Frank hating defense attorneys for putting criminals back on the streets and wanting information on Matt’s clients and yadda yadda. Basically no one actually believes him but everyone likes Daredevil so they’re all like “Welcome home, Regular Matt Murdock Who Isn’t Daredevil!” and then they wink a lot.

Matt is back home, reunited with Milla and Becky and Dakota, when he senses something impossible in the hall:

I will never be over this hug, or those tears, or Foggy’s joyous face in the fourth panel.

Anyway yeah, now that Matt’s officially Not Daredevil, Foggy I guess no longer needs to be protected from Daredevil’s enemies? Or more accurately, the only reason the FBI was really holding him was because of Vanessa’s machinations, and she’s now released him.

What I find really interesting is that she basically justifies it to her minion by saying she’s showing Matt how sweet life can be so that it will hurt more when he inevitably ends up bleeding out in the trash again, but Matt sees it as proof that the Vanessa he knew, the good person she once was, wasn’t totally gone. I think he’s closer to correct.

In return, even though he got what he wanted from her and never promised her anything, Matt gets Fisk out of jail. (Which is, again, the tortured bullshit morality of comics, where you have to get the villain out of jail to do more villain stuff.) The FBI case is so hopelessly compromised that it’s not even hard. But he makes Fisk promise to renounce his American citizenship and leave the country forever, AND he waits until after Vanessa has died so that Fisk can’t bury her, which is pretty vicious. (Matt’s, like...not a nice person, guys.)

And thus this storyline’s all over but the rooftop heart to heart with Foggy!

They are textually talking about Fisk here. They are also textually talking about Karen, who Matt admits that he’s still not over.

But Karen’s death didn’t change Matt so much that the freaking Punisher had to get himself arrested to remind him who he was. Matt has acted erratically since Karen’s death, but Matt has always acted erratically. Foggy’s “death” made him go feral.

So yeah, I think Foggy is talking about two people here (and I think Brubaker wrote the conversation to be about two people). But Matt is talking about three.

Next Up: Lily Lucca comes to New York! It doesn’t end well for anyone!

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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sickandtideeeee · 4 years

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Rise with Me - Chapter 1???

A/N: I came up with a title!!! I’m also post a night shift!! Maybe I’ll write installments or I’ll write blurbs. A little different from By Bast since it’s more OCs and less fanfic. Tell me what you think!

Approximately 746 years ago, without warning, it was proclaimed in the stars that the Heavenly Empire to the East had lost its sole male heir.

The official story was as simple as it was tragic: the youthful prince had contracted a grave illness during one of his many expeditions through the uncharted lands between the main dominions. A truly terrible affliction, the curse had slowly eaten through his internal essence over decades, making his corporeal form increasingly unstable until he was entirely consumed and faded into the wind.

A short mourning period of 10 years was instituted and thereafter, to merely utter the name of the perished would-be King was a crime punishable by death. And this execution would not be a short-lived mortal death, but the shredding of your soul into thousands of pieces, each sliver doomed to try desperately to reunite over the millenia to come.

Despite the intensity of this punishment, there were many rumors outside the lands that could not be quashed. They essentially boiled down to the following:

The prince had been poisoned not by a celestial beast but by a woman.

The prince could only been subjected to such an attack because he had been actively seduced by her.

The woman he was so enamored with was a foreigner.

The last point was the greatest scandal for two reasons: not only was she a foreigner, she was rumored to hail from the Southern chiefdoms, which almost certainly meant she was a political spy sent to destabilize the Eastern realm.

These rumors were both surprisingly close and alarmingly far from the truth.

Unfortunately, this version of events was what the Golden Emperor, the prince’s cherished father, decided to believe.

The only caveat was that his son was very much alive.

However, this did not matter so long as the Emperor had decided that as he was, his favored son Jin was now a liability to the throne and dead to him.

To further the dismay of the rest of the royal family and the empyrean palace, the crown prince had long since returned the sentiment and absconded from Heaven without a word.

—

Jin…

Yes, my love?

Do you think we can be like this, together, forever?

Why wouldn’t we?

Our love is… a little bit strange, don’t you think?

Maybe, but we’ve always been a little bit strange.

She is satisfied by this answer and she snuggles into the crook of my neck and I kiss the top of her forehead. She smells earthy and sweet as though she too sprouted from the meadow we lay in, as if she’s one of the many wildflowers that dot this landscape. The sun’s rays are soft and gentle and we drink deeply of each other. I wrap my arms around her and she smiles and rolls over so that she is on top of me. She pecks at my face playfully, and I am entranced by her smiling face.

Then, a harsh wind picks up and like dandelion fuzz, her form disperses into the air. I wake up with a start.

——

“Mimi? Mimi!” Jin’s voice called out. Then his eyes opened to partial darkness and cold, damp sheets. Moonlight streamed in rays into the room and he realized it was still nighttime.

He turned over several times in his oversized bed to squint at his digital alarm clock. A few minutes past 3. Fantastic.

His head throbbed as he sat up. These headaches were getting all too frequent, he thought, rubbing the sides of his temples. He’d get his agent to buy a humidifier… or maybe some essential oils. Whatever would work. He’d let Annie figure it out later in the day. There was a busy schedule ahead and he was not going to even entertain the wish of getting any more sleep.

For the young immortal who went by the alias Lin Xiao Jin, stylized as ‘jin’ professionally (always in lowercase for flair), this lifetime had already proven to be his most challenging one yet. While Jin had played the role of feudal lords, military generals, and mortal emperors, this time he had wanted a change, and decided to try his hand at a life with a different type of power. The power of fame and celebrity.

It was truly taxing, and this week in particular his schedule had been almost impossible to manage. Sometimes he considered disappearing in a freak accident and becoming a ‘gone too soon’ story, forever immortalizing himself in the course of human history and starting anew as a chaebol kid. But he had to admit, he liked this model/singer/actor triple threat he had going on. The constant attention and adoration was nice, and the steady stream of women who came in and out of his lavish high-rise was nicer. He wasn’t exactly being worshipped as a god, but it was pretty damn close.

Jin, for once, was less worried about how he was going to fit in hours of filming, two meet and greets and a bulking session with a physical trainer into the mere 24 hours a day. Instead, he relaxed his tense muscles and closed his eyes, focusing on tracing the pearl of energy he had parted with several hours earlier.

Moments passed… and nothing. He sighed, letting his body fall back into his messy bed in defeat. He hated the feeling of powerlessness he had in this muted mortal body, and no amount of physical fitness would change that. She was probably too far now to sense. His heart ached to reunite with her, but he had to bide his time. If there was something he always had more of, it was time.

He rolled over to the side and picked up his phone laying on the countertop. 12 missed messages from three hours ago, 6 of them from the same person.

He didn’t bother to open the messages from his not-quite-girlfriend Faye, knowing she’d probably already seen the tabloids, as well as the other girls he was casually dating. Instead of explaining himself, he deleted all her recent messages, gave it a moment of thought, and then proceeded to delete her number too.

——

For the first time in her life, Mya dreamt about a man she had just met.

She sprang up in bed with her heart racing and face warm with shame as the X-rated images ran through her mind like a fast forwarded cassette. She threw off her covers and held her face in her hands.

When did I become so thirsty?!!!

Her whole body burned with embarrassment. She had a boyfriend! Okay, she had to admit calling boyfriend was a stretch. Rather, she had a longstanding crush on a family friend who had finally acknowledged her enough to go on a couple dates.

No matter what her situation was, she could NOT be dreaming about strangers. Even if they were hot and apparently really damn famous.

Speaking of fame, what was she supposed to do now in a foreign country, now that she essentially lost all anonymity and benefits thereof? What is the etiquette in a situation like this?

Not only she had decided to order in and barricade herself in her room for safety to come up with a plan, she had also decided to avoid the internet lest she find unflattering pictures of herself on Baidu or worse. However, now that it was early morning and she was feeling brave, she pulled out her laptop, took a deep breath and opened it up. She placed her fingers on the keys, then froze.

What was she looking for exactly? She did not even know this man’s name. And no one knew her name. What would she even search up?

Instead, she turned on her vpn to access Facebook and sent a short message to her friend.

Just letting you know I’m alive lol… something weird happened, i’ll call you a little later to give you deets, it’s still super early here.

She then went through her feed and when she got bored of that, looked up her not-quite-man on Instagram. Christian still hadn’t posted any pictures from their dates, nothing to suggest they were together. This nagged at her a bit but she sighed and turned off her computer. She had enough to worry about in the morning, no need to get anxious about anyone overnight. He was just a man, after all.

She turned over and went back to sleep.

#rise with me #original work #immortals #star-crossed lovers #xianxia with african flavor #fantasy #ambw #supernatural #inspired by ashes of love

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whump-my-dear-watson · 5 years

Text

Whumptober day no.14, 16, 17 +20

Pinned down, tear-stained, stay with me, Trembling

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Smallville

Word Count: 1,880

Summary: Clark is pinned by a boulder that is infused with Kryptonite, unable to move it off of him and being continually weakened, Clark faces the longest day of his life.

A/N: this takes place around the earlier seasons of Smallville, idek, and boy howdy I sure did combine a lot of prompts for this one lol, also there’s a ton of perspective switches because I love so many dynamics of caretakers with Clark, and I couldn’t choose...

Pete’s truck sputtered and spit with black smoke, giving out with one last spurt. Pete sighed as he did his best to steer off the road as to not block any other cars, with a shudder the truck halted. Peter looked around. What could he do now?

Before Pete was even able to make a decision on what he should do, the ever familiar blur of Clark came streaking towards him.

“Need a hand?” Clark asked with his typical face-wide grin.

“Yeah, she gave out again. Think you can push it down the hill, or should I call a truck?”

Clark’s hands were already on the bumper of the truck, “I got this.”

Pete took a step back as Clark started to push the truck over the little hill before the road started to plateau.

Good thing Clark came when he did, it was starting to get dark and the rock side of the road towered high, hiding them from view.

They had gotten over twenty feet before Clark stopped.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

Clark twisted his head towards the side of the road. “Do you hear that?”

“What? No.”

“It's like a rumbling, it doesn't sound good…” Clark studied the wall of rock beside them, with the squint that Pete could recognize as using his x-ray vision.

“Everything okay?” Pete could barely get out before Clark let go of the truck and turned to him.

“Watch out!” Clark screamed, tackling into him, throwing Pete out of the way just as a giant boulder broke out and landed with a heavy thud.

“Clark? Are you okay?” Pete asked, standing up.

Clark's voice came from under the newly made to pile. “I'm good. Maybe,” he added much softer.

“Can't you lift it?" Pete asked, observing the large Boulder pinning Clark down.

Clark groaned with effort, "I- I don't know, it's not," Clark pushed against the rock again. "It's not working!" his voice broke, "my powers, they're not working!"

Pete's head spun, how were Clark's powers suddenly not working?

"It's okay, I'll help."

Pete looked at his phone, no signal. He wouldn't be able to call for help. Pocketing his phone Pete went to stand by Clark, what was visible of him at least. His head, shoulders, and his right arm could move freely, everything else trapped.

"Okay, let's get you out of this."

Pete braced his hands against the rock, pushing with all of his might he attempted to free him, but all the time he spent working out and at football, it didn't matter. The boulder didn't move an inch.

Clark started to be visibly distressed, Pete sat next to him, at his eye level. He wasn't looking good. That's when Pete noticed, "Clark, Clark, you're bleeding!"

He did his best not to freak out or to freak Clark out, but in all their years of friendship, never once has he seen him bleed. He was supposed to be indestructible, right?

Clark's worried eyes found Pete's. "What's happening to me?" He asked, but Pete had no real answer.

After a while Pete started to notice Clark’s skin, it was a weird green tint, Pete had seen that before.

"Clark, doesn't the meteor rock make you lose your powers and become weak and all that?"

Clark got out a nod. "You think?"

"Yeah," Pete nodded. "This boulder is meteor rock."

They sat like that for a while, every so often Pete would get an idea, leveraging a big branch against the boulder, or digging Clark out, nothing would work.

Pete didn’t leave Clark’s side, his worry growing more tense every second. Clark’s breathing became more erratic and his pain more audible.

The evening sun was setting on them, the trees covering them from night.

Pete wondered if anyone would ever find them if his truck was working he could drive for help, but he couldn’t do that, and he didn’t dare leave Clark alone anyway.

It must have been an hour before they heard anything, a low rumble of an engine, the headlights of an oncoming car shown on the accident.

Pete ran to get their help but froze in his tracks when he saw who the driver was.

“Lex?”

Lex Luthor stepped out of his car, rushing towards Pete.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asked, concern etched on his face as he observed the abandoned truck and pile of rocks scattered on the road.

“Uh, not exactly. My truck broke down and then...there must have been an earthquake or something because the rocks got loose,” Pete walked Lex over to the side where Clark lay, a heavy layer of sweat mixed with blood covering him.

“Oh my god, Clark?” Are you okay?” he asked squatting down to his eye level.

Clark’s distant gaze drifted over him, “Hmmm,”

“We can’t lift it. I tried everything and I can’t get a hold of anybody, no service.”

Lex nodded and tossed his own personal cell to Pete, “This should work, you should call the Kent’s.”

Pete dialed Johnathan, no answer. He left a quick voicemail just out of Clark and Lex’s earshot, “Clark’s in trouble, his powers aren’t working, I think we need help.” Pete spared another worried glance at his friend before filling him in on their location.

“Went to voicemail.” Pete informed Lex approaching the two of them.

“Well, let’s hope he checks that soon. In the meantime let’s get an ambulance up here, and, I don’t know the procedure, but a really big truck too? We have to get Clark out from there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, it’s just- it wasn’t supposed to be him… It was supposed to be me, Clark saw the rocks starting to fall and pushed me out of the way, it was supposed to be me,” he repeated.

Lex came up to Pete and looked him straight in the eyes, “You can’t control what Clark does, it wasn’t your fault. You know Clark, he’s always the first to jump to save somebody.”

Pete nodded, but still feeling the overwhelming sense of guilt mixed with regrets.

Clark’s face was drained of all life, the meteor rock not helping the tint. Lex returned to Clark’s side, trying to think of something to say to encourage the kid. “You’re doing good Clark, help’s coming shortly. You’re getting out of this.”

Clark swallowed and nodded, hardly able to hear Lex over his rapid heartbeat. He never knew so much pain existed, without his skin like steel- he was open quite literally to a world of pain. Lex was unable to hide his concern, it was obvious Clark’s mental state was deteriorating, and he looked sick, like really sick. Then again the boulder was bigger than a truck, part of Lex wondered how Clark was even still alive, but he knew that as with everything surrounding Clark, there was a mystery, but quite frankly the mystery of Clark Kent was the furthest thing from Lex’s mind, only worry for his friend remained.

It wasn’t long before Pete emerged with Johnathan at his heels. He rushed to his son, unable to form any words.

“Dad?” Clark asked in between deep breaths, a calming trick Lex had shown him, it wasn’t helping much at the moment.

Johnathan smiled through his own pain of seeing his kid trapped, “I’m here.”

Clark began to break down, it had been hours since he’d been powerless against the meteor rock laced boulder that was crushing him. With his loose arm, Clark tried to cover his tear-stained face, it was all too much. “It hurts, worse than anything I’ve ever felt,” he choked out a sob.

“I know son. I’m sorry.” Johnathan squeezed his eyes shut and took Clark’s hand in his, Clark leaned into the warm pressure.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

“I can’t move- Dad, I- I can’t move,” Clark’s shoulders trembled with fear, his mind racing, he would die here. Killed by a rock. Was that all that was meant for him?

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” Johnathan repeated until Clark’s breathing started to stabilize.

Johnathan did his best to comfort Clark as they awaited the emergency responders, everyone at the accident had tried to lift the boulder, but they were no match. They would just have to wait for a truck. As Johnathan lay holding his son he thought back to when he first found Clark, he was all alone. He wasn’t now. He would never be alone again, not if Johnathan had anything to say about it. He’s so young- he had so much life left to live.

“Hey! I think help’s here!” Pete shouted overlooking the hill.

Johnathan smiled down at his son, “Do you hear that? We’re gonna get you out, Clark. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Clark didn’t respond which made Lex and Johnathan’s stomach drop. “Come on Clark, stay with me,” Johnathan said trying to control his own breathing.

Lex took a step back, he couldn’t watch his friend die. He had seen so much in his life, so much pain, his own mother, he couldn’t are to witness another person he loved die in front of him.

It didn’t take long for the equipment to be set up to get Clark out, with all the people working and now the trucks, the boulder was moved.

Clark hissed in pain from the movement, now fully aware of what was happening. Relieved from the pressure and contact with the rock Clark’s mindfully focused on the toll that such long exposure to the meteor rock had taken on him, normally it didn’t even take minutes after separating with it for him to start to heal, but Clark continued to feel worse than ever before.

His head lolled in place as they loaded him onto a stretcher, Johnathan staying by his side. Pete and Lex stood dazed in place before Lex offered to take Pete to the hospital to see Clark later. Lex flagged down Johnathan before the ambulance took off, “Mr. Kent! I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about medical bills, Clark will get the best care that is offered. “

“You really don’t have to do that,”

“I insist.”

Johnathan nodded, appreciative of Lex’s offer, but now terrified about what the Doctor could find out about Clark, but he was still human now, so Johnathan hoped that he would stay that way until they would leave the hospital.

Pete apologized to Clark for the millionth time, but Clark just continued to tell him that it wasn’t needed.

“We need to get you to the hospital now Mr. Kent,” one of the paramedics told Clark, Pete took a step back to make room for Clark’s father to join his son. Johnathan nodded a thanks to him before loading in.

Clark was already starting to look marginally better, no longer on death’s door at least. “Thanks, Dad.” he smiled. “For being there,”

“Always son,” Johnathan kept his hand comforting on Clark’s shoulder, never would he have thought that he would have to witness his son so close to death, that was one of the perks of having an indestructible alien son, no danger. But that was never Clark’s style, and Johnathan had to accept that.

“Next time you need a ride, call me.”

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years

Text

Possessed: a Jacksepticeye Fan Fiction

Previous | Next

Part Three: Broken Homes

(Originally, this was going to be the last part, but it got much too long, so there should be one more)

Summary: The boys deal with the aftermath of Halloween night, and make a plan for the next day.

Warning, things get kinda upsetting in the first paragraph. Graphic description of stabbing and death. Skip if you’re sensitive.

The blood splattered on the floor, soaking easily into the rug. The victim choked, arms flailing weakly, trying to somehow staunch the flow from the wound on his neck. He’d only live a few moments more, but that was plenty of time to be in unimaginable pain. The killer dragged his knife along the victim’s stomach, splitting it open. The victim couldn’t scream, and only made a few small noises.The killer laughed hoarsely. He raised the knife and drove it into the victim’s chest. Then again. And again. Seven times he stabbed, the victim unable to stop him. But the killer was just as helpless. In his mind, he screamed over and over, silently begging the thing controlling him to stop, to put down the knife. But the thing only laughed, mocking him for being so weak, so powerless. He could do something, but instead he’s just watching it happen. If you want to stop it so badly, then do something. Cry out, call for help, scream in despair, say something, say anything, but you can’t, you can only watch...

Jameson jerked awake, breathing heavy. A nightmare. It was only a nightmare. But also a memory.

Sitting up, JJ tried to remember where he was. Sun was streaming through open windows. Everything was...clear. Much clearer than it had been for a long, long time. The events of the previous night suddenly came crashing down, bringing mixed emotions flooding with them. On the one hand, Jameson was free. Free from Anti’s influence, forever. On the other hand, decades had passed. Everyone he’d known and loved was probably dead. Friends, family, coworkers...

Jameson shook his head. He couldn’t bother these lovely people with all his troubles. What kind of repayment would that be, dumping all his trauma on the ones who’d rescued him? Actually...where were they?

JJ stood up. The screen from the night before—the TV—was turned off. A messy pile of blankets on the floor showed where Marvin had slept. The sound of friendly voices came from a nearby room. JJ wandered over and poked his head through the doorway.

It appeared to be the kitchen/dining room, though more advanced than the ones Jameson knew. The counter was covered in messy bowls and plates, jugs of milk and bottles of orange juice. A sliding glass door led outside to the backyard. Chase, Jackie, and Marvin—wearing the same outfits from the night before—were all present, Chase and Jackie arguing while Marvin sat at the dining table staring at a small black rectangle in his hand.

“I refuse to eat anything with blueberries in it,” Jackie said, folding his arms. “They’re fucking disgusting.”

“But you can’t take the chocolate chips!” Chase gasped. “The kids love them, and I’m almost out!”

“Alright, no chocolate, but keep those filthy little berries out of the batter. I’d rather eat the pancakes plain.”

“Or you could, you know, make two batches,” Marvin jumped in without looking up from the device in his hand.

“We didn’t make enough batter,” Chase explained. “And we don’t have ingredients for more.”

“Jesus Christ, Chase, what does it take to get you to go grocery shopping?” Jackie said, exasperated. “Any longer, and I’ll have to drag you to the shop by your toes.”

Jameson coughed, drawing the attention of everyone else. “Oh, you’re awake!” Jackie said, smiling cheerfully. “Great! Are you hungry? We made pancakes.”

JJ paused, taking in the mess on the kitchen counter. He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we made the batter, at least,” Jackie amended. “Now we’re trying to decide if we want anything in it? D’you have any preferences?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Chase rushed across the room, grabbed a notepad and pencil that was sitting on the table, and threw it to Jameson, who fumbled before catching it.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Jackie muttered, embarassed.

Jameson quickly wrote, No, it’s perfectly alright. We met each other just last night, after all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember,” Jackie assured him. “Now, d’you want anything with your pancakes?”

I’ll stick with the plain Jane variety, if you don’t mind.

“Got it.” Jackie turned to Chase and said triumphantly, “That’s two votes for no blueberries! That means we win!”

“I vote for blueberries,” Marvin said, waving his hand.

Jackie turned to him. “Oh, come on! We just reached a decision! Why do you always have to do this?”

“I like to fuck things up,” Marvin shrugged.

“Okay, you know what, we’re making both, we’ll figure it out,” Chase stepped in.

As Jackie and Chase set about making the pancakes, Jameson crossed the room and sat at the dining table, across from Marvin. “Hey, you ever seen a cell phone?” Marvin asked, waving the rectangular device he was holding. JJ shook his head. “It’s cool. Phones can do almost anything nowadays. And you can touch the screen. Check it out.”

Marvin handed the phone over, and watched as Jameson’s expression changed from puzzlement to wonder. “You can tap on the little icons to open shit,” Marvin said. “Not literally, of course. I dunno if that’s what you thought.” JJ tapped the screen a couple times, a small smile crossing his face. It lit up his face, and Marvin couldn’t help but smile back. When he wasn’t scared and traumatized, JJ was a right little ray of sunshine.

But in a split second, everything changed. Jameson’s smile fell, his face went white, and he dropped the phone on the table. “Whoa, what happened?” Marvin picked up the phone. He frowned. “It’s just glitching out a bit. My phone is kinda shitty like that. Are...are you okay?”

Jameson nodded, though he was still pale. Marvin wasn’t fooled at all, but he dropped it, changing the subject. “So, d’you have any idea where you want to stay?” he asked. “I mean, I guess you could crash with Chase for a couple days, but his kids come to visit on the weekends and I dunno if you want to meet them, or whatever. And Jackie’s apartment is pretty small. Have any ideas?”

A confused expression crossed JJ’s face. You didn’t suggest your own home in that list. Is it unavailable?

“No, ah, not exactly.” Marvin laughed nervously. “I guess if you wanna you could stay in my hotel room for a bit, but that’s not a, um, stable location. ‘Cause, you know, I don’t own it.”

If it’s not too rude to ask, why are you staying in a hotel and not your own home?

Before Marvin could answer—or think of a way to dodge the question—the other two provided a distraction. “Flip them now, Chase!” “I know how to make pancakes, discount Spider-Man!” “Not good pancakes! Flip ‘em!”

“Fucking hell, you two, why is cooking the thing that destroys your friendship?” Marvin said, exasperated.

“Who would’ve thought it came down to breakfast?” Chase sighed dramatically. Meanwhile, Jackie took advantage of his distraction to reach over and hurriedly flip the pancakes. “Hey! Don’t think I didn’t see that!” The two of them proceeded to wrestle over the spatula while standing next to a hot griddle.

“None of us are adults,” Marvin shook his head. “JJ, you better have some common sense, ‘cause this group really fucking needs it.”

I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘common sense.’

“Well, you can’t be any worse than the rest of us. Anyway, back to the question. Where d’you want to stay?”

Jameson hesitated, pencil frozen on paper. Then, slowly, This may sound absurd, but I would prefer to go home. My house, that is. I believe you know the place I am talking about.

Marvin frowned. “That...doesn’t sound like a good idea. Actually, it sounds like a terrible idea. A no-good, fucking horrible shitwreck of an idea, for so many reasons I’m gonna have to take a moment to process that you actually said it.”

“Pancakes are ready!” Chase said cheerfully, setting plates on the dining table. The buttery smell filled the room.

“And we got drinks, too,” Jackie added, carefully balancing a stack of glasses while holding a jug of milk and a bottle of orange juice.

“Be careful, Jackie,” Chase said, keeping an eye on the stack. “I don’t want to have broken glass on the floor when the kids come over.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re gonna leave any glass just on the floor for anyone to step on, for two whole days,” Jackie retorted. “Or, you know, like I’m gonna just not clean up my own mess. Anyway, there’s no need to worry, see?” He’d successfully set all four glasses on the table without dropping any.

“Oh hey, Jackie, can you explain to our new friend why it’s a fucking awful idea to go back and live in the old house where the evil creature is probably still lurking?” Marvin asked, overly polite.

Jackie looked at Jameson, puzzled. “Is that really true?”

JJ thought about it, then wrote, I don’t know where else I would go.

“Well, any of us would be happy to take you in,” Jackie assured him. “But if you really want to, I don’t think we can stop you.”

“Wha-what?” Marvin spluttered. “Okay, never mind the malicious, homicidal, supernatural entity. How about the fact that the place is a shithole that’s falling apart with holes in the floor? And there’s no food or place to sleep anywhere?”

“We can make it work,” Jackie said positively. “It can’t be too hard to fix up. And besides, it’s not like we can force Jameson to stay here, can we?”

Marvin looked like he very much wanted to do exactly that. Luckily, Chase saw the warning signs and jumped in with a solution, “Hey, how ‘bout we all go there together and check it out? Then we can see if there’s anything evil there, and how much of a fixer-upper it is.”

Recognizing the line Chase was throwing him, and not wanting to fight with Marvin, Jackie agreed, “That’s a great idea, Chase. And if anything goes wrong, we’ll have each others’ backs. You know, like a team. Eh, Marvin?”

The magician sighed. “Alright, I guess it can’t hurt. But let’s go after breakfast, okay?”

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jameson jackson #chase brody #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #possessed jj fic #brigid writes fanfiction

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paragon-vestra · 3 years

Note

1-13 for two characters of your choice!!

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with? Nethysa comes from a brood of four, in fact, with two sisters and one brother all sharing a birthday. She was very close with all of them, once upon a time, but in the years since she’s been home she hasn’t had any chance to interact with them. She sends messages, but she doubts they ever arrive, with her distance, and they have no real way to contact her back. She misses Hrevin, her brother, the most. He was the smallest of the brood, and almost as curious as Nethysa herself. Never had the practical skill for flying or mechanics, but had every ounce of the love. He wrote poems about travelling the stars. But it wasn’t to be. When Nethysa left, Hrevin was tied down by obligations to family, and chose not to join her, though he dearly hopes to see her again, despite the intensity of events surrounding her departure Isadora comes from a group of four as well, though her eldest brother, Byron, is 11 years older than her. The youngest brother, Alistair, was close in age to her, but honestly Isadora’s love never lied with her siblings. Alistair was an artist, and Isadora was an academic, and had no gift with a paintbrush, so they never had much in common. Isadora did, however, have a cousin, Amelie Carthwright-Lagarde, who she was very fond of, though they didn’t visit one another often. Amelie’s family raised horses in the countryside, and they often went out riding together. Isadora was a city rich kid, used to cars and cleanliness, and loved the feeling of freedom that came with riding a horse. Amelie taught her, and they were great friends for many years, though they haven’t had opportunity to see one another for almost a decade now.

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like? Nethysa had a difficult relationship with her mother, though it was a pale reflection of the animosity Nethysa held for her grandmother. It was, however, visits supervised and nights over organised by her mother that enabled her grandmother’s cruelty to affect her. Isadora’s relationship with her mother was distant at times, but overall pretty good. They looked out for one another as the only women in the household most of the time. They went on day trips together, visited cousins and salons and generally lived the life of rich socialites. Of course, she enforced the rigid societal constraints Isadora now expertly navigates, but she always did it with a gentle and sympathetic touch

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like? Nethysa loved her dad something serious. He was an engineer by trade and an artisan by hobby, delving for months at a time into various different skillsets and methods, from mechanics to coding to carpentry, and Nethysa enthusiastically followed along every step of the way, though starship engineering and robotics soon became her true love, with which Nethysa’s father supported her every step of the way Isadora wants to love her father. By the time Isadora was old enough to try to have a relationship with her father, he was hugely preoccupied with training Byron to be his heir. When he had time for her, he was kind, usually wanting to help and make her happy, but he rarely, if ever, knew how to do so. Isadora appreciates the effort, but she and her dad never had enough time to form much of a bond.

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know? The first time Nethysa saw a starship launch, her father bringing her along to see a project he’d had a hand in, it fascinated and entrapped her, and she set her ambition, even as a young child, build and fly on one of those one day. She obviously didn’t build her whole ship herself, but fly she certainly did. The first time Isadora saw ancient ruins within the earth, teasing their secrets, she was fascinated by the wealth of knowledge they implied and set her life’s ambition to understand all of it, which has led her to some interesting places indeed.

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets? Nethysa usually keeps her ID, credit chit and smart device with her at all times, along with a signal/key device for her ship and spare clips for the ray-gun she keeps strapped to a belt. Isadora carries a lot with her as she explores, and most days can be seen with a rucksack filled with camping supplies on her back. However, even when deprived of that she always keeps a stash of coins, a dagger for self defense, and an ancient, twisted magical wand she stole from the artifact hoarder Friedrich Moldenhauer.

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams? Nethysa doesn’t remember her dreams distinctly, just the emotions involved, a feeling of being adrift, lost, and comfortable in that fact. Isadora dreams of wolves and the smell of blood and the pulsing joy of the hunt. She dreams of the spiders that await her summons beneath her flesh and of the calling mysteries of ancient days

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares? Sometimes, when sleeping planetside, Nethysa dreams of a tomb, being buried alive. Whole burials are still common in her home culture, and the thought of being entombed in stone and dirt often wakes her in a cold sweat Isadora dreams of the hunt taking over her, of a wolf with her father’s face and the smell of her mother’s blood. She loses herself in freedom, her precious control forgotten, and it destroys her. She sleeps through them, and thinks of them calmly in the morning. She understands them as the threat and warning that they are.

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target? Nethysa learned to fire a gun early on in her journeys through human space, to end a fight for her life with her attacker’s weapon. The wound wasn’t lethal, but she kept the gun. Practiced with it until she understood, until it didn’t scare her any more. The weapon she currently wields is relatively low-power, however. She isn’t eager to kill, by any stretch, but she knows she might need to defend herself Isadora’s too rich for worrying about the idea of getting into fights with other people. She honestly never thought about it, and has never attempted it. Hunting was never her thing, though she’s been invited. And now that she does hunt for her food when out camping - well, she has other methods.

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up? Nethysa grew up in an upper-working class, lower-middle class sort of family, and now she’s something of an outcast to society, though that is partly due to her moving to a different society, so yeah. Isadora’s a complicated case. She still has the privilege and outlook of her family’s station, tries to keep up appearances, and is used to a certain degree of respect from those she thinks of as below her, and she certainly could return to her life in Andrealun and all the luxury that implies, however when on the road, while richer than most travellers, she is still very much limited by the resources she can carry with her and often eats, sleeps and bathes in much the same places and methods as the poorest in the country.

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing? At home, Nethysa would be the type to hang around a workshop in a tank top and short denim shorts when the atmosphere allows, but out in the world she is a lot more comfortable covered up. Her EVA suit is a constant comfort for the versatility and comfortable breathing it provides, and heavier drapings help her hide the parts of her that are least passable among humans Isadora feels more comfortable in less, but only when alone. In the deep forest she has spent days naked preparing for rituals and druidic meditation, partly to enhance her connection to nature but also just because it’s comfier to her. However, amongst other people, her clothing is her armour, layers of fine cloth setting her apart in dignity and class, a physical manifestation of her privilege that she weaponizes to protect herself every day

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? Nethysa was once left alone with her grandmother for a weekend, without even the buffer of her siblings to mitigate or dilute her abuses. Nethysa’s grandmother was cruel and vindictive, disapproving of her daughter’s choice of partner and taking it out on their children. She tore down every last crumbling brick of Nethysa’s self-worth, and left her physical scars to remember her by. Nethysa was completely powerless. It was the event that would eventually lead to Nethysa’s father splitting from her mother and taking the children with him. Isadora reached the height of her fear during the ritual that made her a skin-changer. The memories of being hunted across an infinite plain, the pain in her flesh as the wolf burst from her with claws red and bloody. The adrenaline in her system left her shaking and panicking for hours after the ritual ended.

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been? The first time Nethysa flew a spaceship, it had been stressful, sure. The pressure was on, after all. But as the pressure of her starting burn eased across her body she was hit with a sense of belonging stronger than any other feeling she could describe before or since Isadora has a distinct memory of riding along with Amelie one day in the summer of her sixteenth year. There was nothing particularly special about it, save that it was one of the last distinct memories she had of the fleeting innocence, before she finally had to accept becoming an adult was a looming prospect. Being on the saddle of a horse still evokes that memory, and comforts her deep in her heart.

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way? Nethysa gets really freaked out by the appearance of human blood, but that’s more out of a sort of uncanny valley. Red is a distinctly artificial colour in her species’ homeworld, and seeing it leak from a wounded creature makes her very uncomfortable. She’s not exceptionally squeamish about more familiar blood, however Isadora, meanwhile, hunts and eats animals without the politeness of cooking them as part of the process, so quite a resounding no.

Thanks so much Tabby! Good to be back!

#Forgot how much I enjoyed these #Gods above I need to stop doing them at 2am though

0 notes

davidmann95 · 7 years

Note

This Superman guy's pretty great, huh?

Okay. Figured I’d write this at somepoint, seems like as good a place as any to do it.

Yes: Superman is pretty great. The character’s great,the costume’s great, the cast is great, the powers are great, the scope of thekind of adventures you can tell with him is great, the mythology’s great, thepower he has to inspire on the page and in the real world is great. I’ve known that since I was…I dunno,three? Two? I’m told he was my first three-syllable word. I’m not sure what myfirst exposure would have been; Supermanthe Animated Series was airing when I was a kid, my dad had the Fleischercartoons on tape, we’d watch reruns of TheAdventures of Superman whenever they aired, I had some odd issues of Superman Adventures, I had picture bookslike The True Story of Superman, Superman: Slippery When Bad and I Hate Superman!, I even had an abridgedversion of John Byrne’s Man of Steel manyyears before I would change my tune on it. It was well past the whole nineyards of lunchboxes and Superman-themed birthday parties - mom and dad wereLois-Mom and Jimmy-Dad for a bit, who got a call one time from a teacher inpreschool that I had dramatically taken off my shirt to show the temporaryS-Shield tattoo I’d gotten on my chest. My dad ended up having to drive toevery Burger King in the area asking for any spare Superman toys because Icouldn’t stand that they had been discontinued before I could get them all andI was making life hell for everyone in the process. I couldn’t play Supermanwith other kids on the playground, because I’d demand we recreate the scriptsof adventures verbatim.

Around seven or thereabouts though,while I never developed any of the disdain towards him that so many seem tohave, I drifted away for a while towards Batman and Spider-Man. Purely bycoincidence, this is also the age I was diagnosed with Asperger’s.

It’s not something I talk about agreat deal these days. Not because of some sense of shame, to be as clear aspossible about that right upfront. It isn’t even a matter of my especiallybeing able to pass as neurotypical - take me out of my comfort zone into anynumber of common social circumstances and that illusion falls by the wayside.But I’ve carved out I feel a pretty decent niche where I’m typically fairlysatisfied and able to function at a level that meets my own standards, and as aresult it’s usually background radiation of my life, not something that comesup unbidden until a situation demands I start thinking about it again. Even when I do, thinking about it much often leaves me feeling self-conscious and self-indulgent, and convinced I’m either being stupidly self-aggrandizing or stupidly self-pitying about it.

So naturally, even once I reallystarted to get back into Superman in earnest at 13 alongsidecomics in general and he became my favorite character in earnest, there are some associations it took me awhile to make.

I’m not quite certain when Istarted to think about it, but the structure of how I thought about it I know came about thanks to @postcardsfromspace‘s (excellent) article I See Your Value Now on learningabout their own Asperger’s. I doubt it’s an association any creators for thecharacter have given any thought (aside from maybe Mark Waid, given that in an interview on Birthright he specifically noted how his idea for Martha Kentbecoming a UFO buff in response to her son was meant as a parallel to parentsof kids with autism having to become self-taught experts on the subject), andall a Google search immediately turns up is comparing a young Clark’s troubleswith his X-Ray vision in Man of Steelto sensory overload in children with autism. It’s not something that would havelikely even occurred to me if it wasn’t for that…well, that I have Asperger’s,and Superman’s a special interest, and as a default I’m always ready on somelevel to connect any input I get back to him.

Obviously, there’s Clark himself.He screams it, right? Likely just because of a general conflation of ‘nerd’traits with ‘Aspie’ traits, but it’s all there right on the surface: shy,awkward, naïve, can’t read a room to save his life, unaware of some generalsocial conventions given his penchant for drab suits, horn-rimmed glasses andfedoras well into the 21st century, either without many friends orlocked into a rigid and small social circle, by all appearances more alivebehind a screen than he ever is to anyone’s face. Even the more confident takeson him, such as in the Reeves TV show or the New 52 Action Comics, seem to lack a social grace or two, seem to grate onthe people around him. Precision-constructed by the greatest man to ever liveto be beneath the notice of his peers in every way imaginable, of course you end up with that guy.

…except even when Clark’s purely apost-Smallville construct on Superman’s part, he’s not made out of nothing, ishe? The Kansas boy who grew up reading ATale of Two Cities as a toddler and obsessively pouring over astronomytextbooks for clues can hazard a guess of what it feels like to be a nerd. Theguy who grew up on a farm who flies and can accidentally shatter steel in hisgrip is entirely familiar with how it feels to awkwardly maneuver around in acrowded city. The square who grew up in the middle of nowhere constantlygetting accused of not knowing how the world really works can probably express a little doubt over his ownself-awareness and naiveté if he absolutely has to. Clark Kent is historicallybuilt on Superman’s own worst image of himself.

(This incidentally, along withplenty of other storytelling-based reasons, is why I intensely dislikeit when Clark’s the ‘real guy’, and therefore confident and charming and on topof things; it’s Kryptonite to the ideas in play there.)

And the shyness? The sense of beingout of place? The - let’s get right to the heart of it - alien-ness?

Superman’s pretty cool. He’sfriendly; he’s understanding; he’s clever and kind and determined. He’s alsosomething of a loner who’s often surprisingly loathe to open up to people,and even once he’s married he still needs plenty of time to himself to thinkthings through. He’s someone who when he puts on the costume always engageswith the world in a very specific context: where his natural talents are mostobviously geared towards being helpful, where so long as he can pull off Sweetand Composed and make some speeches when he has to people will accept him withopen arms. Being Superman puts him in a situation where he can show his bestself, personally and socially and morally, and be accepted for his goodness ina way nerdy, quiet Clark Kent never can.

And god, does he need thatacceptance.

That’s often applied to painfullymaudlin stories of him hand-wringing over his social impact on humanity andwhether he can save all the little children of the world from cancer orwhatever, but it’s still something else that seems to be pretty consistentacross the various interpretations. Unless he’s barreling ahead with a degreeof self-confidence bordering on flat-out arrogance, he’s always worried abouthow he seems in the eyes of the world. Whether that means Red Kryptoniteexternalizing anxieties of old age or powerlessness or throwing him intodreamworlds of hate or irrelevance, or wondering whether he can justify one ofhis two identities, or pondering his alien nature, or questioning what Supermanmeans as a symbol to the world, or being flat-out replaced, or even protectinghis secret, it’s always the same question refracted through endless prisms: Can I belong here? Am I doing well enough,being useful enough, to deserve what I’ve been given? Will they find me out?Would they ever accept me if theyknew the truth?

For all the joy that comes with who he is, that’s his life too: it’s growing up inSmallville knowing there’s no one else who’ll ever know the distinct timbre ofair-pressure changes when a hummingbird slows down its wingbeat a fraction, noone he could talk about the sight of snowflakes assembling themselves out offreezing raindrops to without sounding as if he’s out of his mind, no one whocould fully empathize with having to practice normal human reactions to theworld. It’s spending half his life trying to be a normal guy among normalpeople and failing because of his own insecurities, the other half really beingable to do his best in his own element and being the person he wants to be, butnever being sure if it’s enough for those around him. It’s finally meeting other Kryptonians orsuperheroes but realizing even their own experiences diverge so sharply thatthe communication gap remains, that as a matter of circumstance he is and will alwaysremain fundamentally other in someways, no matter how deeply he connects with other people.

His relationships seem to fit the mold too - it works pretty dang well that histwo best friends are a coworker who’s simultaneously the cool dude who takeshim under his wing and the kid whouncritically looks up to him, and someone with the same ‘hobby’ who’s himselfpretty well-known for having issues opening up to people. Or that his wifefalling in love with him is framed in terms of her looking past him at his mostvulnerable and awkward and unable to fit in to see the person he actually iswhen no one else can, while a major part of his love for her is her being thekind of person who’s pushy enough to force him out of his shell and some of hismore self-defeating behaviors.

And that his worst enemy, in spite ofhis aura of smug self-regard, doesn’t seem able to relate to other people on afundamental level or manage to work with them very well when he’s not in fullcontrol of the situation, even as he needs them to accept and validate him. Lexfails because he’ll never work to bridge that gap in the same way as Superman,seeing that as a ridiculous and unrealistic imposition, and Superman as anintruder into his personal universe trying to force his unrealistic standardsof “acknowledge other people and whatthey think about things” on him while at the same time agonizingly,bafflingly succeeding where Lex fails. He’s the embodiment in that regard ofthe frustrated, shamed instinct of the isolated that you’re already great, sopeople should already love and understand you and it’s their fault for notgetting it (hence for instance how in All-Starhe overtly sees the world and the relationships that make it up in a coldly material manner where people naturally flock to only the most outwardly great aroundthem - colored by a sexist streak that’s taken on a whole new degree of toxic prominencewhen it comes to the socially awkward in the near-decade since the book’sconclusion).

(It also works that Superman’scharacter in All-Star is defined byhis disconnect from humanity, and that his big character arc is having tobecome emotionally honest enough to talk with the people who love him aboutwhat he’s going through.)

Again, clearly none of this is theintent on the part of those who’ve worked with him over the years. This is byno means the bedrock or secret key to what makes him tick; it’s at best a componentin a much larger machine. I’m sure if you dug into it enough you could find somethingproblematic in the proposition, and I won’t pretend there couldn’t becharacters closer in every sense to my own experiences.

But none of them would be Superman.

Sure, it helps that I grew up withhim, and that he’s a character with enough detail and weird ideas and characterwork that I can delve into the minutia of him in a way I can’t with anyone elseto the same extent other than Batman, but beyond all that, he’s Superman. He’s TheGuy, the best, and that I can see myself in him in *any* way means more than itever could with any other character, because that makes him being a role modelmean something else.

For all I talked about how lonelyhe is above he’s still an idealist, still has friends and a job and weirdpersonal hobbies at his personal ice-cave and a way to express his highest,best self in a way that’s loved by the people around him. The way he seesthings differently can be accepted and shared even as he understands and caresfor the people around him. He’s happy. And that he can start from a place of being the onlyone of his kind and end up a good person, the best person, in part because he knows better than anyone what it isto be alone and why others matter so much? That has more weight to people, andto me, than can be expressed.

I mentioned before I’m not wildabout Clark being the exclusive true identity in part because of how much itmesses with this. I’ve also said elsewhere that while both Clark and Supermanare inseparable and true parts of his identity that can’t be denied as importantaspects of who he is, if I absolutely had to choose one as being the ‘real’ one I’dgo with Superman. And I can pick apart any number of storytelling reasons forthat, but thinking about how I relate to Superman in the way I do made merealize something else. I have to see Superman as the truest self becauseSuperman’s who he is at his best, when he’s not afraid or ashamed and can showhimself in all his alienness to everyone and be accepted for it. That’s thedream, right? I’m no Superman, but I’ve gottabelieve in him, ‘cause I’ve gotta believe in me.

I’m pretty sure some of you canrelate.

#Superman #Asperger's #Autism #Clark Kent #Lex Luthor #Lois Lane #All Star Superman #Analysis #Opinion #Me

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sending-the-message · 6 years

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Someone Sent Me A Video Of My Best Friend's Girlfriend by thegeneralg

Hey guys, I am not really sure who to talk to about this, but I am really worried about my best friend. I normally wouldn't be posting anything like this online, but I guess that means I am really scared for him. I just hope I can sort this thing out. So here is what happened.

My friend Kris has been dating this girl for about 8 months. He and I have known each other since we were both kids in grade school and have been best friends ever since. The dude is the kindest, smartest, and most generous person you would ever want to meet. He is devoted to family and would do anything for you if he needed it. He's the kind of guy you would call in an emergency just as easily as you would just to hang out. We all have that one person like Kris in our lives.

But sadly as you all probably know, these people also tend to attract the wrong sort of people. It is the craziest thing isn't it? I guess it is just one of those things, because ruthless people and just flat out psychos flock to him like a moth to a flame. When you think about it, its no so different from what a mouse is to a snake. Predators tend to look for what they consider to be an easy target. If I had a nickel for every lowlife who tried to take advantage of Kris, I'd be a millionaire.

Fortunately, Kris has an excellent support system and I bust my ass to make sure he doesn't get hurt too badly. Let me tell you, it hasn't been easy. He's been cheated on, had one girl attempt to steal his credit card, and even proposed to a girlfriend who took the ring, pawned it, and tried to run for it. Probably used the money to buy drugs for her and some loser she was fucking or something. It was a gorgeous ring too, gold with a sapphire stone. Kris told me he spent months trying to pick out just the right one. That shit broke my heart to hear, and Kris was devastated for months after. He told me how much he loved Jenna, the ring stealer. I felt so powerless as he just sobbed on his bed. I mean come on? What exactly do you say when your best friend gets scammed for a ring?

Nothing, that's what you say. Because your presence is what is required more than anything else at that moment. Quiet, reassuring, steady. They don't need you to talk, they need you to listen and care. When it comes to close friends, sometimes words just aren't needed. But Kris got over it and life went on. Or at least it did until recently.

Kris, bless him, never stops looking for the good in others and always bounces right back. No matter what has happened, he keeps opening his heart to whomever he dates. I gotta give him credit for that. Most of us aren't that open to dating prospects under the best of circumstances, much less after four horrifying relationships. To make matters more complicated, he is one of those who falls in love quickly and deeply. I used to tease him that he believes in love, Disney style.

His parents are still married after 38 years, and not only are they still married, but happily married at that. No matter how much time passes, anyone who knows them can see how much his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Burton, deeply love each other. While he has never once said it, I can tell Kris wants a love like his parents. Deep down, who doesn't?

Kris most recent girlfriends have been; the cheater, the wanna be con artist, the drug dealer, and the ring thief. Each of them was attractive enough, and while I didn't hate them, I certainly didn't like them either. I made sure to keep an eye on Kris to make sure nothing too terrible happened, and I am proud to say I kept him physically healthy and mentally sane. But this time, I just don't know.

Kris met his most recent girlfriend Natalie at a Lana Del Ray concert. Kris loves her music, and I dig it too. Since I had to be out of town that week, I couldn't have gone. I can't help but wonder if things might have been different had I gone with him. Right after he left the concert, Kris called me all excited, saying he had met this beautiful woman and he got her number. I just smiled to myself as he told me.

"Good for you man, that's great," was all I said. I thought it was good that he met someone new because maybe this one would be good for him. Or maybe that was all just wishful thinking on my part, I don't know. Either way I knew Kris. If he wanted to date someone, he was gonna date someone.

They texted steadily after meeting and went on their first date soon after, I believe it was Starbucks. The movies and then dinner dates followed suit. After virtually every date, Kris either called or texted me to say how amazing Natalie was and how he couldn't wait to see her again. He sent me her picture and I agreed that she was gorgeous; long brown hair and stunning green eyes. I was happy for him. I also had a faint shred of hope, because Kris seemed happier than he had been in a long time. It didn't last long.

Kris's parents were having a Memorial Day cookout and as usual, I was invited. His parents always threw the best parties, there was always delicious food and plenty of it. I don't think I will ever forget that moment. I was standing there eating a hamburger, cheesy potato casserole, and macaroni salad. It is always fascinating to see what people put on a burger. It's kind of like the dining equivalent to seeing what people have on their playlist. My usual combination is cheddar cheese, pickles, mayo, and lettuce.

"There he is!" I heard Kris call out to me. Turning around I saw him, and right by his side was Natalie. "Natalie, this is Toby," he said as she extended her hand to shake. It was a firm handshake. I couldn't help but notice that her nails were immaculately done.

"Nice to meet you," she greeted me with a smile.

"Likewise." I responded. She was just as attractive in person. We chatted briefly and I got to know her a little bit. She was originally from Florida before moving up to Chicago for college. She stayed up here after graduation and works in Investment Banking. Kris looked so smitten with her as she spoke. I couldn't help but feel happy as I saw it. Quite frankly, I didn't care if she was a stripper so long as Kris was happy, safe, and she made him proud.

When I got home later that evening, I couldn't help but feel relieved. I texted Kris saying how happy I was for him and that she seemed lovely. He was thrilled I thought that and I thought that was the end of it. That was until Kris' mom called me a few days later.

Mrs. Burton is the sweetest woman you'd ever want to meet, but you don't want to mess with her. Despite being 5'2, she knows how to lay down the law. Being a former prosecutor, she has a keen eye for people and can spot a troublemaker a mile away. Being as she treats me like her own son and I regard her as an honorary mom, I immediately went to her house when she asked me to visit. My heart sank when she did, because I knew exactly what it was about. Mrs. Burton had always been the first one of us to spot the troublemakers her son was dating and what was wrong with them. I had agreed with her every time.

Sitting down with her in the kitchen with a glass of iced tea, she looked troubled. No, not troubled. Afraid. I immediately felt my heart sink. I have literally NEVER seen her look afraid. I braced myself for what she had to say.

"What do you think of Natalie?" she asked. She was clutching her own glass of tea in front of her. I paused, taking great care in choosing my words.

"She's," I began. "Very different from the others. She actually has a career."

"Yes," she answered, being equally cautious when speaking. "She certainly is different from the others." Ok, now I was really starting to get nervous. Usually when Mrs. Burton had something to say, she would come right out and said it, particularly when it was related to Kris' welfare. "Do you like her?" I had been waiting for that question.

"Honestly, I don't know her well enough to say. I like that she seems different from the others. Plus Kris seems very happy."

"That's what makes me uneasy," she said quietly while fidgeting with her wedding ring.

"What's wrong?" I practically whispered. She took a deep breath before answering.

"Natalie. Something isn't right with her."

"What is it?"

"The others before her. I knew the instant I met them all they were no good. Not only that, I knew immediately what was wrong with them and what to do about it. Do you know why?"

"No,"

"Because they were amateurs. Almost amusingly bad liars. Like the one little witch, the credit card scammer. I knew the moment she kept asking about our stuff and how much it cost she was a thief." I had to laugh at that. Diana was a loudmouth alright.

"You got that right,"

"I learned something many years ago. Dumb criminals and bad liars, they are not the ones who keep you up at night. They are so incompetent they might as well arrest themselves. It's the ones who know what they are doing you should be afraid of. Natalie isn't an amateur." Suddenly, my body felt colder than the tea I was drinking.

"Go on," was all I was able to say.

"This one, she is trouble. Big trouble. You haven't spent much time with her have you?"

"No,"

"I am not surprised. That is no coincidence. You are a good man Toby. Always have been. All of Kris' previous girlfriends didn't like you and you knew it. Because you were always onto them like I was. But they were too stupid to know it themselves. All they knew was they didn't like you. Deep down they could sense why, but didn't have the mental ability to understand it. This one is different. She knows." She took a deep gulp of tea before continuing.

"Natalie is always perfect. I do not mean in her appearance, but she is perfect in that way as well. It's her manner. It's like watching a career politician trying to work a room. Always making sure to be chummy, friendly, but at the same time not offend anyone. Like they are always on. I feel the exact same way about interacting with her. It feels like less a human interaction than a prescripted routine. The conversation doesn't feel natural, open, and flowing. Instead I always get the sense that she's rehearsed it or done it before." She paused again for another sip of tea.

"Not to mention when anyone is coming to meet the parents of their significant other for the first time, they are always nervous. A small bit a nerves, perhaps, but nervous all the same. Even Kris' poor tastes in girlfriends had the decency to be nervous. Not this one. She was as calm as could be." I sat there in silence. I had been having my quiet doubts about Natalie for some time, but had no idea what to think. I had been seeing my best friend choose the wrong women for so long I wasn't sure whether to trust Natalie or not. Seeing Mrs. Burton tense like this drove the point home that I was not alone.

"What do I need to do?"

"The thing we should all do in a moment of difficulty. Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. First we need to assess what is going on. Quietly observe. A snake needs to be comfortable to stick its head out. The more comfortable it feels, the farther it will stick it's head out. But whatever you do, do not try to keep him away from her or anything like that, unless she physically harms him or something of course. You know how Kris can be."

"Ok," and with that the conversation was over. What more could there really be said? I drove back home with my mind racing. There is nothing worse than the feeling of wanting to do everything when there is really nothing you can do. Especially when it involves the well being of someone you care about. Every time something happens or they say something, you find yourself biting your tongue. No matter what happens you must keep it to yourself. It sucks. For a while, I was constantly waiting for something to happen. But there is one benefit to silence; it gives you a terrific vantage point. Being quiet allows you to focus on the events and people around you. Since you aren't focusing on yourself, it frees up your attention for other things.

I had suddenly noticed that Kris seemed way more subdued than I had ever seen him. He never complained or gave the slightest hint that anything was up, but he was definitely quieter than I had seen him in a long time. It wasn't just what he said that was quiet. It was his entire demeanor, his body language and attitude. Kris just seemed so subdued. Which was most definitely not a good sign. I called Mrs. Burton up and told her what I noticed. She agreed and in a somber tone she said something that haunts me even now.

"You know those relationships where someone complains about their significant other all day? Saying what a horrible person they are and all that? You never have to worry about those. Sure, keep an eye on them, but they are not the ones in relationships you have to worry about. The most serious cases of an abusive relationship are just like depression, drug abuse, or any other personal crisis. The most serious cases where the person desperately needs help are when the person involved never says a word to anyone about it." I felt my skin crawl as she spoke. It was one of the most insightful things I can ever remember anyone saying.

I don't know how I managed to keep calm and not say a word to Kris, but I did. When we spent time together, I noticed he began to talk about Natalie less and less. I took this as a good omen. Maybe she would be gone sooner rather than later.

That hope promptly vanished three days ago. I had just woken up from a nap when I got a frantic call from Mrs. Burton.

"Toby, its me. Kris is in the hospital." I felt my entire body tense up as soon as she finished saying the last word.

"What happened?" I heard myself say.

"According to Natalie, she and him were just leaving a basketball game when a guy started following them. Kris could tell the guy was bad news, so they tried to get out of there ASAP. But he caught up to them and there was a fight. A quick, but nasty one. Kris managed to fight the guy off, but got a nasty concussion and other injuries in the fight. He's unconscious now, but according to the Doctor, Kris will be just fine."

"That's good to hear," I stood there for a full minute before I asked the question that my mind had practically been screaming me. "Do you believe what she says?" Mrs. Burton's silence was deafening. It was only a minute or so before she answered me, but it felt like an eternity.

"Something happened to my son, we know that. I just don't believe it happened like she says. She is the only witness and if this guy was some piece of shit like she says, why the hell didn't he do anything to her? When I got to the hospital she looked fine. A little disheveled and all that, but she was in fine shape." My hand balled itself into a fist at this.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Just keep being there for your friend. He leans on you more than you will ever know. Go see him when you can and keep your eye on the ball." I could do that.

"Sure,"

"And be careful," she added in a whisper. I had never heard her speak in a voice like that. She seemed genuinely afraid. "I don't know what happened, but I sure know something isn't right and that girl is up to something. Something bad."

"I will, you be careful too," I added and I hung up the phone. Sitting at my kitchen table, I didn't know what to think. All of this was insane. Remembering that I needed to send an email, I opened my laptop and logged in. Scanning my inbox, I saw a few notifications regarding work and a new Facebook friend request. I typed up the email and hit send. It felt good to be able to do something as routine as writing an email after getting bad news. I was just about to log out when I saw it. The email was from a user I didn't recognize. But it was the title that got my attention.

"Kris and Natalie's Real Night," in said in big bold letters. I felt my spine freeze up as I read it. According to the time, it had been sent at 3:42 am this morning. This had to be some obnoxious troll. An obnoxious troll who had sent an attachment. Probably spamware or something. I ran a quick security check and it came up safe to open. After staring at it and debating with myself for a full five minutes, I clicked on it.

It was one of those gritty security camera feeds. I could see the time and on the lower right hand side of the screen. 11:13 pm on May 17. Meaning it was from just last night. On the far left of the screen, I saw Kris and Natalie walking to their car. There was no sound, but I could see everything.

Out of nowhere, I saw some guy sneak up behind Kris when he was opening the door to the driver side of the car. His hoodie concealed his face but I saw him take Kris by surprise. In an instant, there was a flurry of movement. Kris tried to protect himself, but the guy had him cornered. I saw whoever was in the hoodie take a knife out of his pocket and lunge at Kris. Kris managed to dodge it, but what I saw next made me sick.

Natalie came from behind and held something up to Kris' mouth. It looked like a scarf or something. He thrashed around for a few moments before going limp. Seeing my best friend lie there helpless on the parking garage floor was the single most horrific thing I have ever seen. Natalie and the assailant looked at Kris for a moment before exchanging a nod. The assailant then turned around and walked away like it was the most routine thing imaginable. I felt my heart thud in my chest. That's when I saw the most terrifying part of the whole thing.

Natalie's expression. She was faintly smiling, not manically like some mental patient. Like someone who had just been faintly amused and was in a pleasant mood. I immediately grabbed the phone and called Kris' mom and told her what happened. She was stunned, but I forwarded her the email so she could see for herself. Even after she saw it, Mrs. Burton was speechless. I couldn't blame her. It's not everyday you see something like that. I immediately called the police and told them what happened and gave them the email too. They immediately looked for the guy in the hoodie and went after Natalie.

Well, it turns out that when the police went to Natalie's office, they found out pretty quick that there is no Natalie who works there. They are currently still looking for her, but I hope that the security footage is the last I ever see of her. There is one question none of us have been able to answer yet. What exactly happened between Kris and Natalie before the attack that made Kris so quiet?

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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dagenspear · 7 years

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Batman v Superman Rewrite

Open the movie with the end of MOS, show Bruce arriving, running into the rubble, seeing Superman, glaring, basically the same thing. OPENING TITLE. The same terrorist situation where Lois is captured. She sees some of the terrorist figures faces. Superman, without hurting people, saves Lois, but a bomb goes off in the terrorist bunker, burning everyone completely, killing everyone inside. Then cut to a senate hearing discussing Superman and how he still hasn't been held accountable for the destruction in Metropolis. And with the most recent unauthorized destruction of the terrorist group by Superman, as far as they think, which resulted in the deaths of 2 civilian hostages, they state that it's time they discuss what Superman should do and not what he can do. Show Clark watching the senator talking about how they're now officially calling Superman out to answer for what he's done, for Metropolis and the deaths of those civilian hostages. He's forlorn. Lois enters their apartment, seeing him watching the senator. She tries to reassure him, telling him that he's not responsible for what happened, he just has to tell the truth. Clark says that he is. He should have seen the bomb, but he wasn't focused enough. It's his fault, it all is.

Batman is a reckless, vicious vigilante. He pummels criminals like rapists and murderers into near comas. Alfred is deeply concerned about Bruce's growing viciousness, fearful that he'll cross the line. Have the scene where Alfred says that everything's changed also have him glance at Jason's costume just as he says it. Jason's death caused him to shut down as a superhero, but after the events of MOS, he's retaken his mission harder than ever. He has nightmares about his parents deaths and Jason's death intermingling into the same event.

Superman is very much playing with kid gloves. After the events of MOS, he's afraid of his powers, the destructive force he has. He doesn't break bones, he tries to avoid destroying property. He doesn't want anyone else to get hurt. He has ptsd-esque flashbacks about the events of MOS. He still works, he's begun a relationship with Lois, which is struggling because of his disconnected attitude. Clark is obsessed with keeping himself from being something that frightens people, so much so that he's formed a partnership with Metropolis' hometown billionaire to help the city...

Lex is paranoid, rich, ruthless and fearful. He's grown and constructed his entire life around being powerful, great and untouchable. And then comes Superman, a powerful creature that is better than, more special than and more powerful than him, something that he can't control, that he can't protect himself from and he can't stand it. He's basically Batman on steroids. The Bruce Wayne worst case scenario. Only in a more self-involved way. He views Superman as a threat in waiting to him personally, not just really the world. Keep Jesse Eisenberg if you must. But make him more physically fit, not overly muscular though.

Lex's birth father abandoned him to be adopted by a broke family in the slums. He was raised by unfit parents, an alcoholic mom and a controlling dad. When they died, he worked his way through college using the insurance money from their deaths and used it to buy stock in his real father's company. When he was discovered by his dad, Lex discovered that his dad had abandoned him to see how he could thrive on his own, to see if he would ever be worthy enough for his company, then telling him that he's seen that's the case and that he's left Lcorp to him in his will. Enraged at him, his entire life being a pawn under the thumb of his real father, Lex killed him. He then used all the knowledge he'd gained to completely change the face of Lcorp, even giving his name to it, along with doing away with the oil business and making Lexcorp a science and military contract based company, creating new medicines, cutting edge research in fringe sciences, along with DNA studies, and weapons. Not to mention all of the jobs Lex created for the city after one of Metropolis' worst financial fallouts, due to the Gotham earthquake that caused significant damage to a part of Metropolis, essentially pulling the city out a kind of depression situation. Lex helped the reconstruction of the city after the battle of Metropolis as well.

Batman, after finding satellite footage from the world engine event of Superman being weakened, goes there to see if he can gather whatever weakened him, where he finds just particles, green dust left from crystalized rocks from the attempted terraforming effect of the world engine. But that's it. He investigates the area more and discovers that Lexcorp was there and took all the crystalized rocks.

Superman goes to the senate hearing where he's asked about his perception, his powers, what he plans to do about them and why he's doing what he's doing. Superman tells them that he just wants to help, that it's all he ever wanted. He's asked if he thinks the help that destroyed Metropolis by a mother of someone who was killed. Superman is visibly broken up and tries to explain that he made a mistake, he thought he could handle Zod, he didn't know it would cause as much destruction as it had.

The senators tell him that his powers aren't something that anyone can afford for him to make mistakes with. They ask him what gives him the right to do what he does when he can cause so much harm, when his mistakes do what they. Someone tries to say that if Superman had done nothing, the world would be destroyed. Someone then yells that it's because of him that they came in the first place. The other person then yells that they don't know that for sure. A fight breaks out and Superman, worriedly starts to try and stop it, but is told by the senators that they have officials who deal with that and the fight is broken up by the guards. Superman says that his powers give him the responsibility to try to something about what's happening in the world. They respond that responsibility doesn't give all say over the ways of the world. Superman's then asked that what makes him think that they need his help, that he has the power to fix all the problems of the world. Superman says, "Nothing. I just don't want anyone to be afraid of me anymore, when I'll I've ever wanted to do was keep as many people safe I could." They then say that he can't ever do enough. The hearing ends, them telling him that despite the good he's done, it doesn't matter what he can do, that doesn't give him the right to act on behalf of humanity, especially if the cost of that can be the lives of innocents, and finally that they'll reconvene the next day for a complete decision. Superman leaves. Lex uses the kryptonian ship, which was given to him as apart of his military contracts and a sample of Superman's DNA to create a clone, a mentally deficient clone, even a decaying one, something that he can control. He uses it to frame Superman for attacks. The first one being the senators from the hearing.

This shakes Superman. He sees the public and understands that no matter what he does, he won't be trusted by them, that he feels he shouldn't be, with everything he can do, everything he's done. He nearly quits because of this. It's really all about Superman's sense of inferiority. He's afraid that he can't help people now that they know he's out there. He's afraid that even though he knows the attacks happening aren't his fault he still fears that it's something he could be capable of. He doesn't see himself as helpful to the world, but as a negative force in it.

There's a running theme of a feeling of inferiority in this story. Lex feels inferior, because Superman's existence makes him feel powerless and inadequate. Batman feels helpless as ever to do good, to help people, because of such a destructive creature like Superman being around. This feeds into his already intense powerlessness at the loss of Jason Todd at the hands of the Joker due to his, as far as Batman's concerned, inaction.

Batman and Superman cross paths twice before the fight. Once during a bank robbery and another during an altercation where Superman does x-ray through Batman's cowl and tells him to stop his vigilantism. Batman rejects this and begins building his suit to combat Superman after he sees the stories about Superman's attacks, that are really Bizarro. Superman does some digging on Bruce Wayne, finding out about his parents deaths and the death of his ward, Jason Todd. He sees an escalation in Batman's viciousness ever since Jason Todd's death. When Alfred discovers that Batman's making preparations to kill Superman, he tries to stop him, to convince him not to, that there must be an explanation for what's happening.

Meanwhile Lex has been keeping tabs on Superman, tracking an energy signature that he gives off using his satelites and an understanding of kryptonian DNA that he got from Zod's body, leading him to discover his identity. He then kidnaps his mom, framing Batman for it, placing a batarang at the scene.

Lois investigates Superman attacks. She tracks them to Lexcorp and recognizes Lex's goons leaving the building from the opening terrorist confrontation, following them. Superman is basically winning the fight, until he stops himself and begins to realize that he and Batman have been manipulated by Lex. Batman capitalizes on Superman's stopping and uses his kryptonite weapons. And Batman begins beating Superman brutally, mercilessly, and we see flashes before Batman's eyes of Jason Todd being beaten half to death by the Joker with the crowbar. During the fight Alfred would try to convince Batman over the comm to stop, but Batman turns them off, saying that he has to. He would then tell Superman that he's let too much death happen because he wouldn't do what was necessary and that he won't let that happen again. But Superman would convince Batman that he doesn't have to do this, to cross this line, that he understands how he feels. That powerlessness can make you lose sight of what's right, it can make you make mistakes, big ones that you'll regret for the rest of your life. That you can feel like you can't save anyone. That doing this will make him lose what's good in him and he might never get it back and then, confirming that he knows who he is, says, "Bruce, this isn't who you are. You can be better than this. You have to make a choice about the kinda man you wanna be. Do you want to be this?" Batman flashes back to his father telling him that in life you have to make a choice about the kinda man you wanna be. And Bruce realizes what he was about to do, what he was about to become and crumbles to the ground under the weight of that realization. Lois tracks the goons to a building, sneaking in, where she finds Martha and unties her. She then calls Clark and tells him this and hearing the name Martha, Bruce is snapped out of his guilt stupor and realizes that he can still be a hero. Lois' then caught by Lex's men. Batman then hears from Alfred that Superman's attacking the city, or rather Bizarro is and tells Superman. Superman isn't sure what to do and Batman says that he'll go after his mom, that Martha won't die tonight, no one will.

Superman confronts Lex and tries to make Lex stop Bizarro. Lex tells him about Bizarro with, "Aliens, metahumans, magic, it's truly bizarre times we live in. Only fair that we make something just as bizarre to combat it." He says he thought Lex was his partner, a friend. Lex tells him, "With you? After demolishing a chunk of the city, you expect any human to be a friend to those terrifying hands. The hands that'll now be responsible for the city's destruction again."

Superman, angry now, asks Lex, "Why? I only wanted to help."

"Why? Good question... Ya know, I was the hero of the city before you got here, grew up in the slums with 2 poor thugs, abandoned by my real father, and when he died I saw my opportunity to take what was rightfully mine, I pulled the city out of mediocrity and made my company and it a shining beacon for the world, then your alien invasion obliterated everything I worked for. And I put it back together again and you know who everyone cheered for? Superman. You stole everything that I earned. It's what you're here to do, take away the power human's have, decide our fate for us. To stand above us all and lord your power so we all bow down and worship you. You don't get to do that. You hold humanity's destiny in your hands and I'm taking it back. The world will look at your corpse and see you for the monster here to take our fates out of our hands that you really are. And I'll be their hero. I guess I should thank you though. You helped me see that this world was larger than I thought." Lex then snaps his fingers and Superman's tackled by Bizarro. The fight leads through the city, Bizarro trying to endanger people, Superman working extra hard to save them.

Batman hears about the fight from Alfred about and goes to help. Him and Superman together fight Bizarro. Batman using his kryptonite weapons, as Superman helps people. Batman and Superman work together to defeat Bizarro. After Bizarro is subdued, Batman's about to use his kryptonite weapon to against him, considering killing him. But Superman stops him, saying that he promised that no one would die tonight, saying that there has to be another way, that he's learned that it will only cause more pain, that this creature is just something else Lex has manipulated. Superman and Batman go to arrest Lex. Superman tells Lex he's going to make him answer for everything he's done. Lex stabs Superman in the arm and sets off a kryptonite bomb to explode and kill them, then jumping for the elevator, but Batman saves Superman, protecting him with his lead suit and the aftershock of the firey kryptonite residue hits Lex.

Aferwards Superman and Batman talk, Batman deeply apologizing for what he nearly did and Superman responding that what he nearly isn't what's important now, but we did do and what he will do. He did what was right. And that's why he knows that he can trust him. Superman decides to trust Batman with the kryptonite, saying that if anything were to happen, he now trusts him to stop him. He says that he's tried to be perfect, to be above people, but he's not and that's why he's been tormented, he's held himself to an impossible standard. He's NOT God. Not a Savior. And he has no right to allow people to think that he is. He's only human. And it's time that he accept that and start accepting help, saying that he has Batman to thank for helping him see that. Batman says that it's time he does the same. Montage this with Lex in the hospital, the kryptonite having poisoined his DNA, making him lose his hair, it being publicly stated that there was no evidence to say he was behind Bizarro, due to the creature decaying, as all those associated with the ship defense projects are dead, and Superman confronting him, telling him that he'll put him away. Then Batman coming back to the batcave to see Alfred waiting for him. And he helps Bruce clean Joker's message off of Jason's costume, making it no longer a reminder of Batman's failure, but a memorial in Jason's memory. He then contacts Oracle, telling her to tell Dick that he's back. Alred, for the first time in the movie, smiles. And Clark proposes to Lois, saying that he's ready to let her in now. Please review and tell me what you think! Have a very great day!

God bless you all!

#anti dceu #anti batman v superman #anti bvs #superman #clois

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dani-camp · 3 years

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overall review of season 1 of panic on amazon prime. i haven't read the book (though i soon plan to), so i'm not sure how much of what i love about panic is from the book or show but seeing as how lauren oliver wrote both the book and the screenplay, we can assume a good majority of it came from her and i'd like to give credit to her for that.

that being said, i think the whole concept of panic could've been so much more thematic and deeper with just a different villain. word vomit below.

THE THEMES, VILLAINS, AND ENDING

all small towns are the same. filled with secrets and scandals that everyone finds out eventually, crowded, seemingly inescapable. removed from the reality and sanity of the wider more diverse world. that's what we know from all shows set in small towns.

carp, texas is a character. any good show about small towns should recognize that that town must be a character, and when the small town comes with a deadly game, it makes sense for the town to be an ominous villain.

i wish this had been a more consistent thing throughout the show. after more than a year of lockdown, financial complications, continuous conflict between younger and older generations, upper and working classes, and politicians and constituents, it would've made sense to me for the story to align all of those villainous stories together. panic (the game), is apparently something that has gone on at least as long as all of the locals can recall. it doesn't make sense that the parents of the kids, or the cops on the force would be clueless about how the game works if they were once players and judges themselves. especially since the oldest character on the show, anne, seemed to know enough about it that she didn't even have any questions. how could this game survive in a town full of players and spectators? how is it still a mystery? there's not much keeping others' mouths closed if they're not concerned with playing and spectating privileges anymore.

personally, i would've loved if the judges-slash-villains were like the "elders" of the town a la the secret circle. i would've loved for anne to be the benevolent mastermind of the whole thing, believing in keeping the tradition alive and testing the wills of these kids before they go off into the rest of the world. she's already shown to be a risk-taker, a believer in respecting the danger and courage of things. the sheriff could still be in on it and running the numbers, which he keeps from the other judges, and keeps the cops from catching on or stopping it while playing the grieving dad for all of them. one is spurlock, who pretends to be a territorial nutcase every year while knowing the contestants are crawling all around his property and grabbing whatever innocuous trinket he's planted around. one's a teacher at the high school, who can identify which theatrical charismatic students would make good emcees, which sneaky secret-genius students could be spies for them, etc.

maybe anne and melanie cortez are friends. maybe when melanie reveals that jimmy intentionally threw the game and killed himself due to cortez' influence, anne could sick the tiger on him personally (not that i endorse the mistreatment of wild animals ofc). heather getting the money would make more sense when ray and dodge also really needed it. where the money even comes from would make sense. how the game survives would make sense. maybe that's even more cliche than the hiram lodge expy. but at least it would've been a more cohesive story.

and imo, panic (the game) and the character studies were the best parts of the show. it didn't need the drug subplots, or the gambling red herrings, or constant mystery about who was crazy, who was a liar, and who was just desperate. it could've just been a show about teenagers trying to get ahead in a world that has told them they are powerless by literally risking everything they have (their futures, their bodies, their lives, their cars, their phones). teenagers don't have a lot. and $50,000 could be life-changing and life-saving for all of them in a world the renders you financially dependent on your parents, who hit you (bishop), lock you up (ray), steal from you (heather), control you (natalie), or manipulate you (dodge) for years and years and years after you're told you're an adult only in name. and this is only highlighted by the fact that most of the kids only have one parent or guardian to begin with.

like i said in a post before, the actual villain and the actual show ending kind of just felt like they were throwing conflict after conflict on the screen, pinned it on a character that the audience already didn't like, killed him, and then gave all the characters what they wanted anyways. it felt like hiram and riverdale and how he has a hand in politics, business, drugs, local gangs, and the mafia. and also a bad father and husband. and is also willing to kill teenagers and children for the lulz. cause he had a giant boner to pay off some debts? if you say so.

if what i read in the book is correct, this ending is not remotely in the book and was probably added to the show to give a surprise to people that already read the book. or just to beef it up. i think they could've come up with something better and more original, personally.

KUDOS

i love that it's set in texas. though the southern accents come and go with much struggle, i love that they mention the rodeo and take it seriously. i love that the cops wear cowboy hats. i love that they acknowledge the nature around the setting through all the farms and animals and insects. i love that there's a lot of anxiety around pay, employment, drugs, and reputation without completely losing the charm and beauty of the surroundings. being from a small town in south carolina, it really felt so familiar.

i loved the casting for heather, she was a very natural actress even though she always had me wondering what other wavy-haired blonde actress she was reminding me of (the answers were jessica rothe, kathryn newton, or angourie rice, by the way). jessica sula always kills it, and did a good job of not playing a character that gets killed off this time. the acting and characterization for dodge was good, though we lost his mysterious-spartan-ambitious bits at times and then he was just another white boy plotting and swinging at people. moira kelly is always great, but given very little to do. shame.

i loved the writing of the relationship between heather and her mom. i thought it was on point with french and his mom on the oa. reminded me quite a bit of jlaw's character and her mom in poker house. i see from a brief summary of the book that this was not heather's first motivation for joining the game in the book and kudos to them for fixing that. it looks like they tweaked dodge's goal from killing ray to hurt luke to instead be to arrest luke, which works so much better with dodge's character imo.

i loved some of the smaller characters and details. i loved loved loved both diggins and summer and the idea that these two were handpicked just to be emcees--maybe because i was such an insufferable talkative teacher's pet/go-getter/theatre kid that i know i probably would've been tapped for it had i grown up in carp. super small detail but i love how they just casually mention that sarah is ray and luke's half-sister. maybe because i was the kid with the huge complicated family in a small town and i know everyone would often look at me and my siblings and cousins and ask others how we were related. i loved that natalie was allowed to be really nasty and still a sympathetic character. i loved troy. you really do have to be a badass to be androgynous in a small town. i loved that they showed brief glances of their home life. i loved drew and how he was still involved even though he wasn't competing.

GRIEVANCES

on the other hand, some characters were just really unnecessary. why did adam and troy ever get storylines? why were natalie's dad and christine given so much to do when a lot of it was telling us things we already knew? i'm not sure why dayna had (very much well-deserved) angst about her family's ableism when there was no follow-up to it. why were there scenes between heather's mom's abusive sort-of boyfriend and ray's older brother? why did the photographer have multiple scenes? we barely know them!! all these scraggly white men look alike!! why were leela and hunt multi-scene characters? it was so quick and irrelevant that i didn't even get the actual explanation, but bishop and natalie were judges for some reason? and sarah found the money? heather made up stories and was teased to be a writer? there was an underground drug den and a bunker under spurlock's house? abby aborted a baby? some kid pulled a gambit and died on the spurlock farm? because of the game or because of drugs? and there were several mentions that one character used to date another character in the past, that one character had this occupation or this habit, and i honestly couldn't tell you why they wasted script paper on it, much less actual production and air time. feel free to let me know if there was more plot relevance to these things that i'm just missing, cause that's entirely possible.

also... why was little bill? he was only around to freak heather out, tell us that anne's nice, and remind everybody that hey, people in small towns do drugs!!! and they die from it!! and when he and/or his body are burned alive in a house all the main characters got out of, it's mentioned a couple times and then never again. and there's already plenty of other characters whose storylines and development completely revolve around drugs and anne being nice to them. so why. honestly, i found it kind of offensive and potentially racist, but i don't think it's my place to talk on it so i'm gonna take cues from others on that matter.

next, ray. i'm just gonna say it. the casting was not good there. ray nicholson acted the role well, don't get me wrong. but he looks at least a decade older than a high school senior. it was off-putting. it made the heather x ray scenes super uncomfortable, so much so that i can't ship them even though i truly love a good girl/bad boy, enemies to lovers, belligerent sexual tension ladykiller in love type of thing. but i just couldn't like ray. he could not appear to be some kind of impulsive manchild to me when he instead came off as an overgrown bully taking advantage of barely-legal girls and bullying high-schoolers and taking their money when he should be working a full-time job as a mechanic or something. yuck yuck yuck. and even if i can see the appeal of their relationship to the narrative, not sure why heather chose him over bishop other than he wasn't going off to college (even though I figured heather was going to college since she got the money?)

the pacing was really weird. i think they were trying too hard to end every episode on a cliffhanger or something, because it absolutely butchered the tension of every scene it happened in. they constantly revealed really big things off-screen while keeping the filler fluff i mentioned above on-screen.

can we, as a society, stop making cop characters anything but vague villains who get in the way? we really didn't need to know anything about their personal lives. like, at all.

also, why did cortez call his wife "caramel" in the first scene with her? had me confused af. thinking caramel was a cat i missed or if he was shaming her for eating candy or if she was drinking caramel-flavored wine or something. what kind of pet name is caramel? what the fuck.

CONCLUSION

honestly, between panic and the wilds, i think amazon prime could really benefit from bringing on some writing consultants or test audiences to prevent this kind of incohesive and inconsistent writing from happening in the future. it seems to be continuously holding back a great story from being an epic one.

that is all to say that only something i love a lot can inspire this many thoughts about it, and now that i've finished all ten episodes and am about to start the book, i will be diving straight into the fandom, thank you.

#panic amazon #panic lb #panic

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