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rouiyan · 3 years

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𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘕 𝘐 𝘍𝘈𝘓𝘓 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the fourth volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: and when i fall, will you be there to catch me by the waist?

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : angst, fluff ✧ word count : 7.4k ✧ disclaimers : disclaimers — violence in the form of attempted assassination/murder, bloody/gory scenes, mentions and allusions to character death, malintent

✧ author’s note — this is the one where i romanticize everything.

read volume three here: dearly departed.

prince donghyuck is running. he's sprinting almost, and his strapped bow and quiver hits his back with each of his coming strides. his hands are furious in breaking away the tall grasses that surround him on all sides with a blunt blade. cutting through them with swift flicks of his wrist. the dirt beneath his feet crunch and the blades of grass he's cut sway to the ground with slow and deliberate motions, avoiding the drag of gravity like paper in the wind. donghyuck is aware that he's leaving an obvious trail but there isn't time to spare if he doesn't want to meet death at his destination. he wished he'd been smart enough to take a horse, though he knows he would have had to abandon it as he drew close.

the skies are clear today, rare for the winter that has made itself evident in the past few weeks. there are no clouds to stir up a storm, and no threat of rain to muddle his sight. donghyuck pulls a compass from beneath his armored chest. his feet are still moving fast though his arms are now pulled in to read the display on the device. the grass that's no longer pushed back springs up and brushes the skin of his forehead, the skin under the cut of his hair, obtrusively. the needle points south albeit a tad east. he continues forth. the sun is just about setting, flakes of purple beginning to bleed into the blue and donghyuck swears he can hear the ocean. he swears it's near.

he breaks out into an open expanse, sudden in the way the grass stops short, but he sees soon enough that it stops short at the curb of a trodden dirt path. his hand against the ground, he feels the soil fine in between his fingers, sifting almost as finely as sand does. donghyuck's face tinges with the slightest annoyance in the realization that thin soil meant that tracks were covered up all the more easily, something that'd indeed be in his favor, if only there were tracks left to follow in the first place. the compass resurfaces again, the fine chain on which it hangs sloshing in the wind in conjunction with his hurried movements. lee donghyuck bites the bullet and recedes back into the mass of grassland, this time hurrying along the edge of the road whilst ducking once again in the cover of the reeds.

the sun is fast in waning and it's as if the prince is chasing it. he is on the descent of the hill himself when he begins to hear it clearly, the sounds of waves crashing against rocks, sputtering along the shore. he wishes he had time to go down and relish in the feeling of the water lapping between his toes, the salt and sand it carries shrugging off his dead skin. the sight he's first met with is the thatching of the roof, worn down and sodden through days of heavy rainfall. it sits like a weight upon the rest of the structure that soon forms in his line of vision. a decrepit shack, almost, or a sizable shack. the shiplack that holds the siding in place is doing the exact opposite, lifting off of its holds and fraying downwards into the ground, carrying pieces of the inner insulation of the walls with it. the shutters are absent in barricading the gaping holes the windows have abated to, the awning of the porch creases earthwards, blocking most of the front door. the visage reads, 'seaside home succumbs to the inexorable confines of loneliness and lack of care.' there is no other way to describe the forces that keep the assembly upright except the willfulness of a wicked hand.

donghyuck pauses and crouches to the roots of the turf. he peers between the strands to see a guard, no, two placed just before the widest cavity in the side of the house, the only way in he supposes. his fingers are quick to pluck the end of an arrow, to slot it in its place, to draw and arm back, an eye squinting. he's quick to duck under the cover of the grass once again when the arrow pierces the left of a guards' eye. he's quick to avoid ruffling the grass that would otherwise be giving away the whereabouts of his presence away to the other, frantic, guard. prince donghyuck is crouched at the foot of a tree when he draws another arrow, slots it, draws back, releases. he knows that death meets wherever the point of his arrows land, he's accustomed to it, he feels pride in knowing that one shot is all he needs to become the greater version of him, to decide who lives and who doesn't. one shot is all he needs to play god. at least, that is what you had told him on a lonely day of his fifth summer, the first summer he had spent at the northern palace but definitely not the last.

"and you'll keep staring from afar, will you? you in the creepers," you turned your head in exact to where he'd been crouching, "as if i wouldn't know." young donghyuck removed himself effectively from the brush, dusting off bracts from his trousers in effort to present himself with a little more ease. sheepily, he treaded across to a few yards behind where you were stood, stance rigid and facial muscles pulled taut when staring into the bullseye. you plucked an arrow, turned it over in your hands, fingers running along the ridges to inspect. prince donghyuck knew that you were the same age as him, he'd been taught of the four, of which he was one, who were birthed in the same year, in each of the kingdoms. he knew this, yet with the aura you're giving off, he couldn't help but think that you've been around for much longer. the arrow split the previous arrow in a clean half. both lodged into the red-marked center, fifty or so meters away and barely visible to the eye at such distance.

prince donghyuck stumbled to take a bow from the stand beside you. he placed an arrow clumsily between his fingers, strangely he felt the need to prove himself though he does just the opposite by fumbling. the arrow launched after his third try, but rather than taking on a straight course, it gave a feeble arc and lodged itself into the soil before him. the prince was a sight of vexation at this point, "my instructor said- he said…"

you crossed your arms over your chest, bow tucked neatly in between. "oh, i bet he said a whole bunch."

you taught him all you know and he learned with a newfound respect, though he was unwilling to admit to himself. you had him practice on a bird first, a bigger target than the red dot, so tiny that frustrations would surely be easy to come if he'd started there. donghyuck gave you an apprehensive glance behind his shoulders but you nudged him along with a nod of your head. it's the first time he hasn't missed. he never misses a shot after that. "is- is it dead?" donghyuck didn't dare peer over, afraid of what he might see.

"of course it is."

the five-year old boy was rendered a stuttering mess at this point, "d- did i just commit a felony?" shrugging, you plucked a stone from the shore of the creek, tossing it light across the water, "hunting is legal, if that's what you're asking."

"but i just killed a- a living thing!" he exclaims as if you hadn't said what you had said moments before. sighing, the next thing that comes from you left the boy in confoundment and annoyance at how curt you were, like an grown up he thought. "well, there are times where we are left with no choice but to comply with the blurred lines of right and wrong. there are times where we are left with no choice but to play god.”

his snappy attitude is all too quick to arise, no clue as to even what you were referring to and only in the knowledge that he disliked talking to you. "you're only five, just like me. what do you know?"

"i know a great deal," you turned abruptly to face the boy. you stepped in slow, paced motions, eyes strong and unwavering. he gulps as you spoke though unsure of why. "i know because i look for all my answers from what's put before me, not from my instructors."

prince donghyuck bites down on his lip, he wasn't nearly done with you yet, "so you're saying that you've learned all you know? then when will you learn that you don't have to act all high and mighty when you're already crown princess."

"i don't act. i am not an entertainer." he could not count the amount of times you've rendered him unable to process his thoughts. donghyuck can only retort back, "then what are you?"

"i am crown princess y/n, just as you've said it."

it's years later when he realizes why the earth seems to quiver beneath you, it's years later when he understands that it's because unlike the earth, soil that is bound by the pull of gravity, you've never allowed yourself to be limited to what something, someone, anything else subjects you to. you are a subject to no one, and that is why you will be queen one day.

he thinks this even as the second of the guards drop dead. he thinks this because he has never had less of a reason to carry out a task, yet he finds himself doing so with attentiveness to detail. donghyuck by no means could categorize you as manipulative, nor persuasive. he simply understands the way you work, the things you desire, the people you need by your side. even he, as much as he disagrees with the likes of prince jeno, he knows that only he can be your king.

the dust settles thick as he crosses through the threshold, one leg after another. he doesn't need to breathe to know that the air could suffocate if he didn't have his arm sleeve pressed into his nose. the inside of the cottage, the wreck that it is, seemed to be intact, for the most part. donghyuck even thinks that if you were to run a thick duster across the tapestries, the carpet, the counters, the armoire, most everything, that the place could live up to the coziness of just about a decade ago, minus the blatant hole in the wall and the condition of the walls itself.

donghyuck does his best, he's sure, but the halls twist in ways meant to confuse and he ends up at the same stairwell all too many times to count. he finds it soon enough, just as the sun regresses into night. the one stairwell that led down in the midst of all the ups. the absence of light is the only noticeable thing by sight, the moon isn’t nearly upon the horizon, but he uses all that he knows to make out the shine of the door at the foot of the steps.

skipping the last few steps, he rams into it with all his body weight. the brass, weakened through weather and age, cripples beneath him revealing the darker of night.

the first thing donghyuck does is cough, there is no way around that. his arm is back by his nose but this time his mouth also clamps tight onto the roughened fabric of his sleeve. he has a short blade in hand, his least favorite weapon of choice but a sword would have been too inefficient and a single arrow too thin. besides the heavy air that hangs, the room is also dead silent. four paces in and his foot hits a solid, a clang, a metal. he drags it along in the same direction, clang, clang, clang. bars. metal bars. a cage, an imprisonment of sorts.

the last bar he's hit escapes him, it swings open. the door, he supposes though he wonders why it hadn't been locked, why the door to the very basement hadn't been locked, why the whole vicinity was put under the supervision of two, poorly trained guards. donghyuck understands when his eyes do their part in adjusting to the dimness of the room and he sees the prince, slumped and unconscious, out cold.

perhaps, death really was waiting for him at his destination.

time is running thin as donghyuck dismisses his urge to check for a pulse, he figures he'd have to bring the body back anyways, alive or dead, and furthermore he has a deadline. long gone is the dagger, tucked away on the side of his left thigh, replaced with a metal arrow that clangs itself with each time it strikes the wall adjacent to it. to prince donghyuck, picking a lock with a sharpened point of an arrow is second nature; he's done it as many times as little boy scouts practice their square knots and soprano's run through their warmups. but even then, he hates the feeling of picking a lock that binds two wrists, he hates the feeling of how the wrists fall when they are no longer bound, and he hates the feeling of the chains as they clatter and clump at his feet. more than that, the dead weight of a man on his shoulders, void of all vicarious pretenses, is the worst among all feelings.

the sun carries with it shadows as it sets. it draws them like a coachman and his horses, a dog on its leash, a flock of baby geese and their mother. the shadow of the cottage, in particular, is seven feet from where it was when donghyuck entered. he doubts he'll have much time to get back into town on foot, running wouldn't work well with his already depleted stamina and the hunk of a man on his shoulders. he plays it safe with a jog and his compass in hand, the shine of the needle becoming harder to decipher in the fast-coming shadows that drown out his sight.

the first break he takes under a tree a little ways down from the cottage, shoving the weight of jeno under the cover of a few tendrils of vines. he almost wants to kick his figure in annoyance but under the guise that he was trying to wake him. prince jeno is very poor company when he's knocked out, or dead, he supposes now is as good of a time as any to check. fingers against his wrist, he feels the faintest of a pulse and is relieved in the most concealed way, though there is no one around for him to be concealing from. donghyuck thinks, with sureness, that if he were to let the boy wilt in his arms, to deliver him dead when he might as well have been alive, he himself would be dead in your eyes. he shakes his head and brings his flask to the lips of the older, slightly older.

the first few drops of water do nothing except sit in his dry mouth but the rest is gurgled, choked, swallowed. the prince, and soon to be king, lunges at donghyuck with his eyes still shut closed. he has his fingers tight around the eastern prince's neck when he finally regains the will to peel open his lids. the sun is long gone at this point and the moon has still yet to appear over the horizon. jeno is startled when he realizes that the ground his knees are rubbing against isn't dusted concrete but thick soil and stones. he draws back at that though his arms wind back as well, as if to drive into his unknown captor's cheek, to knock him out. donghyuck is a whirlwind of coughs as he barely registers the fist that's approaching fast, he's glad he still has it in him to roll to the side and croak out an, "it's me."

two princes are panting under the span of a tree, the roots that jut out slashing the backs of one of them and the twigs that litter the ground cutting into the kneecaps of the other. their breaths alternate, loud sighs and sharp inhales, as they regain their bearings enough to acknowledge each other. two princes sit side by side under the span of a tree, glancing at each other, or what they believe to be each other, in the shroud of darkness that envelops them. they wait for the moon.

jeno finds himself reaching for the flask that lays discarded a few feet away. he chugs and donghyuck eyes him in disgust, feeling how his own throat is clenching up with the same thirst. jeno must sense this because he holds it out for him when he's had his fill, "how much time has passed?" donghyuck throws back the rest of the water. they are bound to come across a freshwater stream on the long way back, he's sure and he swallows, "a week in approximation."

a week, he's sure a lot of things could've happened in the week he was gone. possibly, you'd know of his absence. surely, you know of the death of your father. no doubt were you in mourning and he was halfway across the region and in no state to comfort you. his brows furrow, "anything notable that's happened?"

there are many things donghyuck could say in response. he hasn't left your side since the day after your father's body was found, the day he'd arrived at the palace, ready to comfort. he'd never have expected you to lash out in rage with no one to blame. he'd been there when the maid had delivered news of the anonymous tip that'd made your knees go weak in an instant. a hell of a week it had been, indeed. he prefaces with the general. "the coronation has been moved up, three days from now you will be crowned king."

jeno nods in understanding. it's all his parents have ever wanted from him, to marry off into golden blood, to become golden blood, for their immediate family to bathe in golden blood. he sighs knowing that he feels it's fine if it's with you, that your presence in his life simply mocks that of his parents. but he needs answers, the yearning to see you is set alight in the pits of his stomach. "and how is she holding up?"

disgruntled, prince donghyuck answers curt and vague, the exact opposite of what jeno needs to soothe his worries, "she's holding up just fine." neither of them are in high spirits when they set off into the night. they suffice with the silence and when they come across the expected stream, donghyuck fills the flask, they bathe. the moon is kind that night, outshining all nights before and illuminating the compass needle, the guide into the outskirts of the southern kingdom.

the sun is on the rise when the two princes are met with the sight of buildings in the distance, small shacks, roofs thatched but unkempt and messy unlike that of the seaside cottage for royalty. the people bustling about are donned in the plainest of clothing and donghyuck is sure that his combat gear and jeno's days old and crinkle suit would draw unwanted attention from the commoners, after all, he's almost sure that they wouldn't recognize the faces of two royalty if they were dressed down, not here in the southern kingdom where the prospects of royalty are told like a fairy tale.

like how any disguise is gained, donghyuck sneaks through the bushels of the nearest house and snatches two pairs of trousers, two plain cotton tops, and a tweed satchel, leaving four golden coins under the back awning. they change before the sun arrives to clear the air of fog and mist and they bustle and weave within the crowd with ease when the sun peeks over diagonal, mid-morning.

they don't make it far on foot, there is still a ways to go before they can safely make it past jeno's homeland without being noticed. the farther they delve into the heart of the kingdom, the closer they mingle with the nobles, the higher-ranking families, those who would recognize them almost immediately.

a first of many close calls come when they are at the back end of a manor, a huge estate, spanning about half the palace itself. whoever the owner was, the individual jeno was rambling on about, wouldn't suffer the loss of two horses. that is, if they could be stolen in the first place. the stables were a mile into the plot of land from the back and though donghyuck could be so efficient in simply shooting dead all the guards that lined the outer premises, he really did not wish to cause a ruckus, not when he's sure the officials of the southern kingdom are aware of the escape of their second prince. and if jeno is correct in labeling this very estate as the abode of the capital governor, he wouldn't be keen in taking chances where it could hurt most.

night falls for a second time and, under the cover of darkness, jeno slashes the calves of two of the guards, a stroke that could easily be mistaken to be of a running and wild badger if timed correctly. he ducks between the electrical cords of the fencing, donghyuck just behind him, as he gets on all fours to survey the grounds. the guards that are left mill around the stables, the only structure that'll provide them light during their break. they are jolly and big-bellied when they laugh and jeno finds it all too easy to slip past the commotion to the back of the stables where the gates open onto the track. donghyuck moves with practiced stealth to the opposite end, foot looping on the edge of a table where kegs of beer are stood tall. he steadies himself, centering his movements around his breaths and not his impulses. retrieving his compass, he doesn't stop to crack it open this time, angling the sleek alloy cover in such a way that it glints in accordance with the glass of the window, left side of the stables that's illuminated inside out.

they count to three. the kegs meet the earth and while some roll, others simply spill. donghyuck leaves a mess in his wake. he'd like to stay back, admire his work, the looks of shock on their faces and the realization that'll come when they check the stables a little later. he gets this feeling each time he completes a mission, and very rarely is a prince allowed to do so. prince donghyuck loves the rush, the adrenaline, the anticipation and the satisfaction of completion. he knows that jeno feels the same. although as much as he would love to linger in the shadows to bathe in his victory, he knows that if he doesn't remove himself from the scene he will have a great deal more things to be worrying about. perhaps, his head on a stick.

with the horses accompanied by night, an ever-so-welcome friend, they are able to make haste. their course deviating the slightest to avoid the boundaries of the royal palace. jeno is familiar with the towns that lay just a little beyond and just a little before the middle glade. his familiarity means he knows where to book a rest for the night, where to get the needed replenishments for themselves and the horses and where to stock up for the coming day that will be spent entirely in the middle glade. his familiarity is helpful, but deemed futile when they arrive to see that each stall, selling food or goods, has a banner hung on the overhead. the prince's face is printed on each one, a lost prince, help needed! captioning each notice.

the pitstop, originally jotted to span a whole of two hours becomes a series of laborious tasks that involve intricate planning of thievery, indirect thievery as they make sure to leave, in their ructions, the rest of their gold coins, distributed evenly. they enter the middle glades with relieved and wearied hearts and sacks upon sacks of provisions.

the middle glade is the right place for any wearied heart. the grass is knee-length here, and it stays that way for a day's trip worth of land. the edges are crowded by a thick forest of trees with trunks too wide to hug and roots so big that traversing the land on foot is treacherous enough. but just beyond the thickets of trees and boughs that hang low is the glade itself. the four kingdoms were built to accommodate the livelihood of the grasses, wildflowers, gentle ponds that stretched only a few feet deep. the glade is a sight for sore eyes, and a marvel for all traveling through. it's where the four kingdoms diverge, and also where they meet.

rays of sun are harsh on their backs, it's been a little over an hour and though the looming threat of the southern kingdom has been left in the dust, the road ahead proves bleak, grasses the run along the horizon and, seemingly, endlessly beyond. jeno thinks of what he'll say when he sees you. he thinks of the smile that's sure to grace your features and he thinks of your warm embrace. jeno is patient when he thinks of you.

"she's been troubled."

jeno looks over in surprise at the sound of his companions voice, he notes the lilt and remains silent for him to go on.

"the princess and i, as i'm sure you know, we've been well-acquainted for a long time now." donghyuck steals a glance of his own and finds that jeno's sights are held to the front but his brows are drawn in consideration, deliberation. "and i've always known her the best, loved her the best, been the best for her. we've both been, for each other i mean. we both also knew that there would be a day where the same would be said for someone besides the other. i don't mean harm when i say that i didn't think it'd be this soon, not for her."

"why not for her, distinctly?"

prince donghyuck gives a moment to think of an answer that he knows all too well from being by your side for the good majority of his life, "because she's not one to talk. she prefers to listen." nudging his point along, jeno makes it known, "she talks to me."

"that's how i know you're the one for her." jeno smiles to himself. he lets himself relish in the feeling of your love, even indirectly. his lips stay turned upwards, even when he wills them back down. he can't help but feel a little silly so he disguises his countenance with another question, "did she ask this of you? to come for me?" a question that he already knows the answer to.

"of course," a playful grin spreads with ease across donghyuck's face. he supposes that the taut strings between them have loosened up ever so slightly, either that or the dreariness of traveling for days on end with only each other's company have done the trick, "i'd have never gone out of my way for you." jeno's expression is gruff but his tone is light when he quips back in agreement, "neither would i."

"i'll have you know though, she's beyond excited about the wedding preparations. the coronation as well but i can sense that she's more apprehensive to take the throne so early on. it's a relief to know that you'll be by her side when the time comes."

"as i should be."

"you know, i've heard some rumors about you, just picked them up here and there. and while i have made sure of your sincerity by means of this," he gesticulates, "this trip of ours, i would like to confirm that you're not...after her for the throne, are you?"

"not i, but i wouldn't put it past you to see it as so. much of my family sees her for only her blood," he doesn't bother to palliate the resentment in his expression as he spits out the last half. the other in the conversation is thrown into thought, once again. the moments he gives himself to respond are filled with the sounds of horse hooves fast on the crimpling grass.

"the death of her father, were you aware that it was dawning upon us?" donghyuck airs prudently, "in the assumption that it was of your lineage's doing."

jeno replies dismissively, not in the context that he is avoiding the inquiry, but more so that he found the case scenario obvious, "i was not aware, no. it had certainly been staged so that i could not have been there to prevent it, unfortunately." his eyes slide from the grassy hills ahead to his friend beside him, he lets new information fall from his lips in the face of someone he has come to trust, "i'm also apprehensive about her taking the throne so young, and not because of her duties. i have an inkling that she might be stolen before her throne is."

"another scheme of your parents, the king and queen? or is that past my bounds to be asking?"

the dismissive tone laces his voice again, but only for a few cumulative seconds, "not at all, there are many times a day where even i find it hard to identify as one of them." a turning point is reached where he gazes grows stern and the dismissiveness is replaced with an air of officiality, "but yes, i believe it to be one of their schemes to place a crown atop my head."

donghyuck considers jeno's words with heavy thought and a heavily-ladened question, "would you take it if it was offered?" he takes his answer with an equally heavy understanding.

"at the cost of her, i would give it up in a heartbeat."

you've lost count of the nights you've spent staring at the same ceiling you were faced with now. even turning onto your sides you know that you'll be met with all too familiar scenes. your mind, instead of relenting to the rest it needs, replays the same track over and over of prince jeno asking for you not to stay up too late, ironic in the sense that that's simultaneously exactly what you've succumbed to. you miss the way his locks bunch in between your fingers, something you haven't quite grasped the reasonings behind your liking of. it's just hair, but it being his hair supposedly makes all the difference. would it be foolish for you to be thinking of his hair when he might as well be taking his last breaths in the same second? there wouldn't be a way to know, the wall that you've encountered each time you venture down the glum alleyways of 'what if.'

"acceptance disempowers fear, darkness, shame." (my co--star day at a glance 1119).

you wallow in acceptance because the fear, the darkness, the shame stands too tall against your thin spears of hope. they've dwindled with each day that you've spent circulating between those three emotions in a hopeless and never-ending circle of self-induced torture. somewhere in between your fourth and fifth hour of intermittent lapses between sleep and wakeful exhaustion, the inner door of your chamber is burst open and you swear under your breath. murder is in the night.

or rather, it's your lady-in-waiting, her eyes bugged out and a coat haphazardly thrown over her nightgown. "your highness!" that's when you see the smile on her face, that's when a similar one begins to light your own. "the guards down in the valley, they say they've seen them!"

legs kicking up the blankets that hold you down, you scramble out of bed, even slipping on a coat is deemed too much a time-consuming task when the raptures that have enveloped you for the past weeks are now coming to a close. your fingers barely catch onto the door frame just as you skid out, peering back in to get another word for your maid, "them, them as in two. both lively and well?"

"i've been told of two men, both on horseback."

a grin splits your cheeks wide as your bare feet clap down hard on the frigid marble flooring. it echoes unlike the sound of your nightgown flitting between your form with each step, the whistling of wind curling your insides with warmth and joy. your heart sings like a village girl, whose love has just returned safe from the battling seas. perhaps you were a juliet, in the pretense that 'star-crossed' meant that you and him were written in the stars, not torn apart by them. your lungs welcome the morning air as you inhale as much as you can, replenishing the depths of your spirit, invigorating you down to each cell that you were built of.

the guard at the foot of the steps implores you not to go any further, the crisp winds that sift through the orchard would be far too dangerous with how little you are wearing. he sends for your lady-in-waiting, who had just arrived behind you, panting with all her might, to head back in to retrieve a coat or two for you. you tell her to take her time.

you're on your knees weeping when they come into view, the sight is unsuitable for the weak-hearted. head in your hands, you're making frantic motions to swipe away the furious tears that trace down your cheeks when the soiled dust from a sudden break of hooves lifts into the air before you. prince jeno dismounts as if it were his life's duty, his strides are long, as they have always been, and when he takes you in his arms, collecting your listless limbs and wearied bones in place, you find home within his embrace.

at the crack of dawn, on the bottom steps of the northern palace, a man clad in plain white and a woman in a silk nightgown rejoice in the name of love. his fingers never let the goosebumps on your skin stay for as long as he smoothes them over, you are absent of the wintry weather on your bare skin. at the crack of dawn, on the bottom steps of the northern palace, the up and coming king and queen of the northern kingdom rejoice in the names of each other, alive and so, so full of life.

you're looking up in curiosity at him as he crosses the room to the side of the bed, opposite of yours. jeno has a book in his hand, and rather than looking at you, his sights are on the pages, a finger skimming along with his eyes. he's by your side when he looks up, satisfied, "i brought something to read to you, love."

your eyes sparkle in the moonlight that slips undisturbed through your open balcony doors, "and what might it be?"

"you'll know when you hear, i assure you." he extends an arm and your back is pressed against his chest without a question, his arms encircling your frame, both hands converging to hold the book in front of the two of you. he spoke the truth when he said you'd recognize it. a smile makes its way to your face before you can even take notice. and when you do indeed notice, you mouth the words along with his voice.

“i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you every tuesday. i will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. i will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, and the pepperoni loves the pizza. i will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. i will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. i will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.

i will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. i will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp…i will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. i will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. i will love you until every fire is extinguished and rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods. i will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple. i will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close…i will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, i will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. i will love you no matter where you go and who you see, i will love you if you don’t marry me. i will love you if you marry someone else–and i will love you if you never marry at all, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all. that is how i will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

(Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters)

the book is discarded, but unforgotten, to the side when the curtains are pulled back. the moon is at its height. renjun has a lot of work to do.

the scene is as expected, the princess, inseparable from her prince is on the bed and clasped on all sides by his form. he regrets that he did not have the guts to ask for the murder of them both. his orders strictly called for the death of one, a much more tedious task when a possible witness, such as the prince, could hold a hefty punishment over his head if he were to be caught. renjun knows that isn't likely to begin with.

his first mistake is waking the prince. perhaps going in for a knife to the heart was the most efficient but the least accessible, seeing as the man clung to you like no other. renjun doesn't bother hiding though he knows his face covering and hood aren't enough to cover his unmistakable stature. the prince charges at him once he's gained a sense of his surroundings. renjun dodges his sleepful fit easily and uses this opportunity to strike at you. a quick blow to the side should do enough damage for his job to be considered completed.

his second mistake is misconstruing the sheer amount of power the prince possesses. in truth, the prince does not know himself, especially if that power is being drawn by the prospects regarding your safety and wellbeing. renjun is pulled back with veined arms that encase as if to wrestle him into surrender. he's experienced enough to worm his way out and to position himself opposite of the bed where you're now beginning to stir from all the commotion, the prince standing in front of him, shaking his head in disgruntledness as he tries to fight off the waves of post-awakening exhaustion and strain.

renjun knows a lot of things. he knows much about caged animals, he knows even more about greedy men, specifically greedy and powerful men, he knows of hierarchies and classes and exactly how to get what he wants from them, but in this moment, he knows nothing more than the fact that prince jeno will duck. and that he will regret.

when one is young and naive and still in the belief that their blanket will shield them from the monsters in the dark, they simply disregard that it will not. the flimsy, flimsy blanket, made of nothing more than woven, and likely processed, fabrics will do nothing against the demons that await, under your bed, in your shadows, from your ceiling. you are not young, nor are you naive, and it's in your understanding that these demons, they are a breed of sorts, fallen angels. perhaps, you will never understand. and in their line of work, they have never halted at the sight of a blanket. you toss it aside and you charge even as your prospects of living dim as the dagger parts the air, the air that scampers away and leaves an open trail for the dagger to the dead center of your abdomen, the very spot your father had been punctured with.

there is a part of renjun that wishes he missed.

the man in the moon frowns as the beams that foam and froth and bubble behind him are poured down from the heavens onto the west wing of the palace solely, the west-facing windows, a specific west-facing, wrought iron traced door that gives into the expanse of your room, your bed. it illuminates you, it bares its shine upon you, unabashedly, unashamedly. and it is also the sole reason jeno can see, with such clarity, the shank that slits your silk nightgown with ease, that embeds itself within your now-withering body, that in turn, makes his blood run cold.

renjun is long gone when jeno begins his cry for help. there are guards just outside but it would take a miracle for a medic to arrive before you bleed out your internal organs completely. the white of your sheets is stained with your blood, the strands of your hair are strung together with the stickiness of the substance, jeno's hands, the beds of his fingernails are deluged in the blood that spurts from where he is desperately trying to press down on. the hole in your front gushes with each breath you take and jeno could only wish that he could breathe for you, in your stead.

prince jeno cries, in the most literal and figurative senses, for help, for someone to wipe away his tears and to tell him that you're alright. to shake him awake as he dissolves further into the abyss of his fears. to kneel by his bedside and tell him that it was all a nightmare, that you're fine, really, that you've just gone to get a cup of earl grey with honey, that when you come back, there will be no dagger struck between your intestines and no red staining your nightgown. lee jeno cries because as time drags, and the guards that scramble about, fruitlessly counting on a distant and frankly unprepared medic, you are in his arms taking your last breaths.

"acceptance disempowers fear, darkness, shame."

and so he accepts.

volume five, the final installment: heaven belongs to you will be updated whenever the author sees fit.

✧ end note — i hope this piece brought back some cherished memories of 'a series of unfortunate events,' personally, such a great memory of my childhood, reading-wise. i say this a lot but, this has got to be one of my most favorite things i've ever written. i think i did quite well with this. it makes me happy. i hope it made you happy, i love you, have a nice day.

#nct fics #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno fics #jeno x reader #lee jeno fics #lee jeno angst #nct scenarios #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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tendernessfic · 5 years

Text

555326 [Romanogers]

DISCLAIMER: Please be aware that although this version references existing universes/dimensions, I have written this in accordance with the timeline of events in the MCU.

Vormir, 2014.

The cold breeze swept through him. It was not a good chill and he knew it. He could sense the grief that the place bred, the devastation it caused. Doubts on whether or not his plan would work clouded his thoughts. He had no way to test it out, he had to simply do it and see.

The stone burned brightly behind in his left hand, while the other tightened its grip on Mjolnir.

This is gonna work, Steve.

I know it is, ‘cause I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.

“Rogers, Steven. Son of Joseph.”

From afar, he could see the black cloak Cloat Clint had described, slowly making its way into his full vision. Then, he appeared.

He stepped forward, “I thought the dead were meant to stay dead.”

“But death did not take me, young boy,” he replied while walking in the direction of the abyss, “you thought you won, but you are wrong once again, as you were back then.”

Steve studied him carefully, he did not seem surprised at the reunion, nor was he afraid of his presence.

“Tell me, what is it that you seek?”

“I think you know that my purpose is not to seek, yet to return something that was taken.”

His eyes shot up as he stood, clearly alarmed that his assumption was true, “My boy, that is not a mission you shall complete.”

With a slight head tilt, he smiled, “And I think you should know by now that I complete my missions, whatever it takes.”

He held the hammer towards the sky and clouds gathered, followed by the sound of deafening thunder and a bolt of lightning striking his right arm. He could only imagine the look on Thor’s face if he had seen what just happened. Oh, how he missed his dear friend.

It was no surprise that fear overtook the face of his enemy for two seconds, before he started bolting towards Steve. Steve calmly walked forward while swinging the hammer, then hurled it towards the skull, immediately knocking him over.

He then rushed to where his body laid, and placed his foot on the skull’s chest to prevent him from getting up, “You were never meant to receive freedom,” he spat, “not after all that you’ve taken from us.”

“I have paid the price for my freedom, and I’ll be damned if someone takes it for me.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, “then you should’ve given up when you met me.”

With that, he tossed the stone over the abyss as the skull cried out in desperation. A bright light overtook him and before he knew it, all he saw was black.

…

“Steve,”

He felt someone nudge his side. At first, it was a soft nudge, then it increasingly got harder.

“Wake up already, you can’t expect me to believe that killed you?”

His eyes fluttered open. Amidst the blur, he saw a tinge of red and smelt a familiar scent. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it is but it made his heart race. And as his vision came to, he could not believe what or rather who was crouching down in front of him.

“Nat?”

She grinned, “Nice to see you too, soldier.”

Placing her hand behind his back, she helped him sit up and dusted some dirt off his shoulders. Still in complete shock, Steve simply stared at her with his mouth wide open. Nat laughed and nudged him, “Bet Thor took that really hard, huh?”

“What?”

She pointed at Mjolnir, “You and his baby.”

Steve chuckled, “Actually, he knew all along I was worthy.”

“Okay big guy,” she raised her palms in the air as if surrendering before standing up, “clearly the hammer might’ve malfunctioned or something but whatever makes you happy.”

As he stood, he took a good look at her. She looked incredible and exactly as she did before he lost her. And so he took her into his arms and held her tight, “This can’t be real.”

He could feel her smile against him, “I missed you too.”

Steve took a good look of his surroundings, it didn’t seem like they were in Vormir. There was a light shade of yellow all around them, and nothing else but shallow water under their feet.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She let go of Steve and smiled, “Take a walk with me?”

“It would be an honour, ma’am.” He said as he bent down to pick up the hammer.

She scoffed, “Do me a favour and leave that, you won’t need it here. Trust me.”

So he did. The two of them walked towards nowhere in silence for a while, before he spoke up, “Everyone is going to be so happy that you’re back.”

She let out a sad laugh, “You asked where we were. We’re not on Vormir anymore.”

“Then this must be some sort of alternate dimension, right? You’ve been trapped here all along?”

She halted her steps. Steve noticed her shoulders stiffened as she brought her arms around her.

“Steve, I’m not going back.”

He walked around her so that he could see her face. She had a look of content.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, “When I did it, when I jumped, my soul was released from my physical being and I was brought here, into this world. Now that the stone has been returned, I can be released.”

He frowned, “Which means you can go back, right?”

“It’s simple really,” she took a step forward, “think of spilt milk. Once it’s out of the carton, you can’t get it back in.”

Steve felt his heart shatter, “B-but Nat, I returned the stone, I-I fixed the timeline everything's meant to go back to how it was-”

“But how that is how it is, was and ever will be, Steve. I jumped. I made that choice. You brought the timeline back together but it was always my destiny in this universe to jump. I’m not meant to go back Steve.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, “But where will you go?”

She shrugged, “Don’t know. You always said that there is only one God, even after meeting Thor. So I guess I’ll find out, won’t I? Man, it’ll suck if I find out Thor’s the one judging me.”

“Nat that’s not funny.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed, “I don’t know where I’m going after this, but I’m thankful it’s you I get to spend my last moments with.”

He sighed, “But what about Bruce?”

She smiled softly, “You and I both know that there’s a reason why you’re here right now, and not him.” Steve looked away shyly, but she placed her palm on her cheek so she could look at him, “Bruce will be fine. And so will you.”

He placed his palm on top of hers, “This isn’t fair.”

“Well, that’s our reality. Maybe in another life.” She tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek,

“Go find her, Steve. Live a happy life for both of us.”

He felt a tear escape his eye, “But what about you?”

“You’ll see me again,” she winked at him, “trust me.”

With that, Nat let go, took one last good look at him and started walking away. Steve sensed a feeling of peace from her, she was truly ready to let go. Then something hit him.

“Nat?”

She turned around, “Steve?”

“You said our reality. What does that mean?”

Loud and clear, she replied, “Brooklyn, Earth-555326.”

His brows furrowed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Bruce will help you,” she turned away but turned back, “oh and Steve? Language.”

Before he could say another word, Nat walked away and everything else faded to white.

…

Earth, five months after the discovery of the multiverse.

“Did she say anything else, cap? Did she give you specific instructions or coordinates?”

Steve groaned, “I’ve told you, all she said was Earth-”

“I know, I know, Earth-555326. But even if I get you there, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to find whatever she wants you to find. Hell, we don’t even know what year we need to send you to, we’re just going off probability.”

“Nat’s not the best at giving instructions...or at following orders.” he shrugged.

Bruce let out a scoff of agreement and inputted the numbers into the machine, “Cap, we don’t know what this will do to you. I mean, you’re already…”

“You can say it,” he said as he stood, “I’m old.”

“Yeah well you were always old but now you’re old, old.”

Steve pointed a finger at Bruce, “Don’t insult me, young man.”

With a loud whirl, the machine lit up, ready to transport Steve to this version of earth Nat so dearly wanted him to see. Steve made his way onto the platform and clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly. He had no idea if the flowers would survive the trip or if he would see her again, but he was hopeful.

“Hey cap? If she’s there, tell her I said hi.”

“Will do.” Steve said as the portal engulfed him.

…

Brooklyn, Earth-555326, year 2030

He recognised this place. He was nearly beat to dust here years ago, and Bucky saved him. He was only a few blocks away from home and he could practically smell the bakery he had been meaning to visit. Step by step, he took into account the slight differences this version of Brooklyn had. It was creepily similar, yet the man who (still) sold newspapers after ten years was now a woman. Instead of the regular public school he passed by every morning, there was a hospital, presumably owned by Tony Stark (definitely owned by Tony as it clearly said ‘Stark’).

“Catch me if you can, Nathaniel!”

“James, you get back here right now!”

Steve turned around to see a brown-haired boy, chasing after a red-haired younger boy who seemed to be carrying a bow and arrow.

“James! My dad’s gonna kill me if you break that, hand it back right now!”

The boy simply sprinted faster. Something compelled Steve to follow him. The older boy seemed familiar… wait. He was sure Nathaniel was the name of Clint’s son. But James? Who was this James? Did Clint marry someone else in this other life? Perhaps Nat stayed with Clint?

He was getting closer and closer to home now. He stopped in his tracks to see if the children would, as he expected, turn right. They did.

The two were running to his place.

He attempted to walk as fast as he could but stopped in his tracks the moment he heard a familiar voice.

“James Rogers, would you please hand those back to Nathaniel?”

It’s Nat. It’s her voice. Did she just say James Rogers?

“I’m just messing with him, mum,” the boy sneakily replied, “but one day I’ll beat his archery skills you’ll see.”

“Ha! As if.” Nathaniel echoed.

Steve stiffened. He took a step forward so that he could fully see the sight in front of him. A gasp escaped his lips. Natasha was standing right there, just approximately 32 feet away from him. The same Natasha who he had bid farewell in another dimension on Vormir. Her red hair in a bun up high, still dressed in all-black, but dressed comfortably. Did the boy call her-

“Tell him, mum!”

Nat rolled her eyes, “Inside right now, the both of you. Nate, have some lunch before your dad picks you up.”

“Yes, auntie Nat!”

The two children shuffled up the stairs and into his flat, while Natasha stood there for a few seconds before turning and looking straight at him, “I’m sorry sir, my son can be a bit loud sometimes.”

Her son.

Her son’s name is James Rogers.

Steve boldly stepped forward, “You’re...Natasha Romanoff, right?”

“My husband insists I tell people that my last name is now hyphenated with his,” she laughs, “but you have the right woman. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Without much thought, he approached her and handed over the bouquet, “Nothing...I just wanted to give you these.”

She had a puzzled expression on her face, “Why thank you, how awfully chivalrous for a stranger to-” and she stopped as she looked at his face.

His blue eyes. She would recognise them even amidst a massive crowd. It was clear by the wrinkles on his face that he wasn’t her Steve. But he was Steve nevertheless, just from somewhere far, far, away.

“You don’t look a day over seventy.” Nat smiled.

With a sigh of relief, he smiled back and asked, “How old is he?”

“Seven this year.” she laughed as Steve’s eyes widened, clearly realising what year she meant, “He...was a surprise that came to us about a few months after, you know.”

“But...that means you came back.”

A look of sadness washed over her eyes, “I’m guessing I didn’t return, in your version of reality?”

Steve shook his head, “But it was you who ultimately helped us defeat him. You gave us the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I guess the universe or all universes are fair,” she sighed, “you lost me. We lost Rhodey… and a couple more others.”

“Tony?”

“No, but we lost Pepper.” She picked a petal off the bouquet she was holding and twisted it around her fingers, “I kinda wished they had both survived you know, where you come from.”

He nodded, “I do too.” Steve noticed the ring on her finger and pointed at it, “when did that happen?”

“Three months ago, actually.” She said very matter-of-factly, “You finally convinced me, after all those years.”

“That long?” he nearly yelled.

Nat grinned cheekily, “It wasn’t as if we weren’t together, I mean, this thing here,” she showed off her ring, “simply means I have to take your name now.”

He scoffed, “You make it sound like a job.”

“Well, with that boy right there sometimes it’s tougher than our actual job.”

Steve chuckled and closed his eyes for a while, listening to the voice of his son from inside his house, “Tell me something, here, did you and-”

“Steve?” The feel of her hand on his cheek opened his eyes, “I would have chosen you, in any reality, dimension and universe.”

With that, his heart swelled, “Still, I promised Bruce to tell you he said hi.”

“Well, tell him that here, he’s currently with you. Actually, both of you are currently on your way back from some place in the nine realms. Thor needed help with something.”

“Huh,” he nodded impressively, “glad to see my worthiness being used to its full capacity.”

“My, my, cap. What has old age done to your confidence.” Nat teased. They both stood there, laughing for a while before Nat gestured upstairs, “I should really get going. Gotta prepare for your arrival.”

Steve looked down at his watch, “And I have to head back.”

As she did on Vormir, she tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Only this time, the farewell filled Steve with a sense of fulfilment and happiness.

“Take care of yourself, old guy.”

“You too, Nat.”

She started walking up the stairs but turned around to get one last look at him, “You still look mighty fine, by the way.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Romanoff.”

“Rogers,” she winked at him, “it’s Romanoff-Rogers now.”

The familiar beeps alerted him that his time was up. And so he waved at her, “Tell both of them I said hi.”

“Will do.”

…

“Whoa, cap, you okay there?”

Bruce and Sam were standing above him. They helped him stand up and observed him to see if he had lost any limbs or if he had gotten younger.

“Glad to see you’re back in one piece, sorry to see you still old.” Sam nudged him.

He shrugged, “I think I’m quite happy with where I am now.”

Bruce noticed something, “I see the flowers are gone.”

Steve smiled and sighed, “Yeah.”

“Do you...want to talk about her now?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

SECOND DISCLAIMER

I am very well aware that in the original version of Earth-555326 the Avengers died under the hands of ultron. I am also very well aware that there might be distortions and things that don’t match with the original comics but I wrote this to provide closure for me and for other Romanogers shippers who deserve the closure we never got. I believe that with the existence of a multiverse anything is possible and that outcomes will differ across dimensions. This is just my take on what I would like Steve and Nat to have in another life, and I hope this little piece of mine brings you joy, or at least helps mend those scars still fresh even weeks after Endgame.

#Avengers #Romanogers #Steve rogers #natasha romanoff #capwidow #captain america #black widow #stevenat #marvel cinematic universe #endgame #the avengers

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rodislandpsychic · 4 years

Text

Jordan Lake Cited in “Stranger Things” 3.4 “Sauna Test” vs. “Parks and Recreation” 7.12 “One Last Ride” Finale

I had to break my promise about never tagging Jordan on Instagram. After I finished watching “Stranger Things” Season 3 Episode 4 “Sauna Test” about Jordan Lake, I had to tag her in that.

It’s really hard. You try to respect people’s space, but then you have these bigger problems.

ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELD RESEARCH

Due to the limited amount of space for writing a description, I had to drop a lot of stuff.

One of the things was my research on the Electromagnetic Field as a Communication System and why Jordan Lake has that Electromagnetic Field Machine.

When you align the information about Jordan tied to me with my bio, you see how Earth’s Electromagnetic Field functions as a Social Media Platform. So the Subconscious Minds of the Script Writers were putting stuff into the script about Jordan.

When you see elements of my personal life and family tree sewn into the show “Stranger Things,” you see how influential Jordan and I are.

I didn’t have room to mention how I’m Rod of Washington who aligns with 1959 “Twilight Zone” host Rod Serling while Jordan aligns with 2019 host Jordan Peele. “Twilight” films set in Washington State where I’m from lock the information down.

I skipped mentioning it since I’ve said about it in other Instagram posts.

DISCLAIMER THAT IT’S PURELY COINCIDENCE

TV Shows and Films use this blanket disclaimer saying that any matching people or places are purely coincidental.

That normally works for Non-Psychic Television Shows and Movies. However, because “Stranger Things” is a Psychic TV Show, you expect weird Psychic Phenomenon.

So you can’t hide behind that excuse.

I personally like the show and I’m not interested in Royalties or suing them for anything.

I’m sick of people suing each other.

I’ve worked on the set in Hollywood and know how hard the film crew works. There are so many TV Shows and Movies about me. I don’t see why I should dip into their paychecks just to get money.

I would just like to be treated with more respect and recognition where people don’t look down upon me for working in the Psychic Field.

When you see how many people love “Stranger Things,” it just sucks when people snub you or look down on you yet love that show that is about you.

CORONAVIRUS CREATING URGENCY

The Coronavirus outbreak hitting the United States where it was first spotted in Washington State where I’m from and then California and Texas for where I currently live in California and Jordan is in Texas is a big deal.

I said that I’m 1/8 Chinese and from Washington State where I drove a 1977 Toyota Corona in high school. That mirrors the Coronavirus spawning from China and targeting Washington State.

This ties to the Simulation Hypothesis by Nick Bostrom. Rizwan Virk wrote a book about it. We’re living in a computer simulation.

There wasn’t enough room to talk about the Coronavirus in more detail. The 2010 Disney film “Tangled” is where the father was the King of CORONA. He would release (Hal JORDAN Green) LANTERNs every year on the birthday of the lost daughter.

ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY AND BLAKE’S BIRTHDAY

This was also the one year anniversary of Jordan’s ex Blake and when I tried to meet up with Jordan in California.

Time sure flies. It never occurred to me that Jordan would be gone one year later.

Although I’ve kind of known about abandonment as a natural part of working in the Psychic Field.

Jordan used to ask me why I would take Screenshots of every little thing she posted on Snapchat.

Aside from the habit of being like a UFO Chaser where you never know when you’ll spot a UFO, it’s the same where you never know when you’ll run across a Psychic Manifestation.

It’s also a habit from seeing people move in and out of your life quickly. It’s just natural where people leave you when you work in the Psychic Field.

Jordan was one of my favorites as well as an adopted daughter. Life is so fleeting. I already experienced it with my best friend Scott. We were friends for 23 years and then suddenly he was gone.

Jordan told me that her ex Blake was born 1/25. So today as 1/25 of 2020 marks that year. It mirrors Ryan Reynolds as Hal Jordan who met his wife Blake Lively.

PARKS AND RECREATION

I never watched “Parks and Recreation.” So when I uncovered that the 7.12 Finale makes mention of Craig and “Rod,” I had to hop onto Netflix and see it.

Donna goes to Seattle, Washington. Chris Pratt with actress Aubrey Plaza go to Washington, D.C. I didn’t have room to make mention that Jordan’s friend is named Aubrey.

I suspect that Jordan’s friend Aubrey was put there to point to Jordan’s link to Parks and Recreation.

Craig Middlebrooks having the name “Jordan Craig” sewn into it was really moving for me.

I really didn’t think that Jordan would want to take over my job after we left. However, that finale in 2015 shows that some part of Jordan did. Whether it was the Conscious Mind of Jordan returning or the Subconscious Mind of Jordan as MacKenzie Craig Donald who managed the position after I passed away.

The story of Garry who everyone called Jerry and got his name wrong showed Christie Brinkley as the wife when he died. Christie Brinkley was born 2/2 when Dallas became incorporated.

Christie Brinkley’s daughter Alexa Joel is born 12/29 as Texas Statehood. Jordan is in Texas. It’s hinting that Jordan is Christie Brinkley as Dallas, Texas and Garry was a version of me.

Just as people didn’t get Garry’s name correct, people don’t get my name right either. I get mistaken for “Rob” instead of “Rod.”

You even see it with Jordan who called me by name “Psych.” She never called me by my name Rod.

I’m not saying I’m sad about that. It just kind of shows how sad it was where I do a really important job and people can’t even get my name right.

I was a forgettable person in most people’s eyes. People thought I was not very important.

TYPHOON MONTALBAN MARRYING CRAIG MIDDLEBROOKS

I’m still debating on whether I will post a “Parks and Recreation” Instagram. If I do, I don’t feel a need to tag Jordan in that. I already said my peace.

“Stranger Things” was just a really major piece of information that Jordan really needs to have. That TV Show has impacted American society and Jordan really does need to know.

I just can’t wait around till Jordan’s ready to hear it. I’ve got things to do and I just wait indefinitely till Jordan’s in a good mood or feelings like hearing what I have to say.

When there’s a disease outbreak threatening the country, I really don’t have the time to wait till Jordan’s ready.

In the 7.12 Finale “One Last Ride,” Typhoon and Craig are really old and Typhoon asks if Craig has any regrets.

If you read the description on the character Typhoon, it mentions that Craig didn’t love Typhoon (Rod) as much as Typhoon loved Craig.

Although, it’s a sad Truth, it’s one way to prove that the characters Typhoon and Craig really were talking about “Rod” and “Jordan Craig.”

Jordan gets mistaken for a guy. So Craig Middlebrooks being male would be Jordan and that’s why it was a gay wedding.

However, there is one interpretation where if Jordan is female, then a male Craig not as affection would be the same as a female Craig who is affectionate.

I try not to read too much into it. All I know is that 7.12 “One Last Ride” that aired 2/24 of 2015 was 3 years before I met Jordan 9/27 of 2018. That was talking about is.

It was just nice seeing that ending. The other version is that Garry married “Dallas” and lived a long life with Christie Brinkley as Dallas and fathered many children and grandchildren with her when he died at the age of 100.

That’s not to say that would ever come true with Jordan, but it’s nice just seeing that was put in the TV Show “Parks and Recreation.”

JORDAN NOT BEING TREATED WELL

I just really hope that Jordan will someday run across “Stranger Things” 3.4 talking about Jordan Lake and that light bulb will go off in her head where she’ll realize, “OMG, everything Rod ever tried to tell me is true.”

I just hope that as Jordan gets older, she’ll take pride in knowing she was remembered in the TV Show “Stranger Things” and “Parks and Recreation.”

People try to get attention with Likes and Follows on Instagram. They get thousands of followers. However, the number of Followers on Instagram and Twitter doesn’t determine your value and self-worth.

I only have 30 Followers, but that is not a reflection of my self-worth. When people realize that I influence TV and Film, it shows that I am prominent well known. That may not be reflected in my Instagram, but what matters is what Subconscious Minds and Planet Earth think about you.

Subconscious Minds and Earth can read your mind and everyone else’s minds. So they know who’s genuine and sincere. They know who’s lying.

Having a lot of Followers on Instagram doesn’t necessarily reflect your personality, integrity, and character as a person. Some of those followers are just bots and not real people.

I just hope that people will treat Jordan better when they realize who she was in the Entertainment Industry.

People can have Follows and Likes on Instagram, but Jordan will still live on “Parks and Recreation” and “Stranger Things” long after all those other people on Instagram are gone and no one ever remembers them.

APEC SUMMIT ON BLAKE ISLAND 11/20 OF 1993

I was talking to my stepdad and he was reminding me about the APEC Summit on Blake Island 11/20 of 1993. That was my first year as a Freshman in college at the University of Washington.

I bet the Subconscious Mind of my stepdad knew I was going to be talking about Jordan in an Instagram post and that her ex was named Blake.

I had said months ago that I don’t know who Blake is, but I felt really bad for him when Jordan told me that his parents forced him to break up with her because they thought they were too young.

Jordan said that the mother Krystal ran into her at the Southlake Mall in Texas and she started crying and ran out the door. It just sounds to me that Blake punished his parents for calling it off with Jordan.

I can relate because I’ve always had a dominant mother. I said one of my biggest regrets was that I was on the phone with Jordan and my mom walked in. My mom didn’t see that I had a headset and didn’t know I was talking on the phone.

Jordan could hear my mom talking and said “Hi, mom.”

I just kept talking to my mom ignoring Jordan not wanting to tip my mom off about Jordan and have to explain who Jordan is.

It’s because I didn’t want to get in that conversation with my mom where if it turned out that she disapproved of Jordan, I didn’t want to hear it or receive that criticism.

To hear that your parent disapproves of someone you talk can really get you down.

That’s why when I asked Jordan why she was acting differently and she said that her mom thought I was overbearing, I sensed that was going to be a problem.

It’s hard when your family doesn’t approve of who you date or who you hang out with. It just puts a damper on things.

Jordan says that she came to the decision on her own about cutting ties with me, but she’s a lot like me. I just feel that her mother had some influence.

I even said it’s hinted in the James Bond film “Skyfall.”

JORDAN’S INFLUENCE IN ENTERTAINMENT

While Jordan’s mother may have been just looking out for Jordan and trying to keep her safe, it still affected Jordan regarding her inheritance.

Although, I said that was staged and already predicted. It was seen through Paris Hilton born 2/17 meaning the name Jordan. Paris is in Dallas and her mother Kathy Hilton is born 3/13 like Jordan.

Paris Hilton was to be married 11/11 of 2018 on Washington Statehood to Chris Zylka. I’m from Washington State. The parents refusing to meet with Chris Zylka and attend the wedding put a huge damper on the relationship and Paris called it off.

Paris Hilton with her Dallas 3/13 tags calling off a Washington Symbol Wedding symbolizes Jordan in Dallas born 3/13 who cut ties with me.

It’s showing how public our “break-up” was. Jordan and I weren’t dating but we had a “business relationship” that was broadcast. Subconscious Minds worldwide were watching us.

WHEN SOMEONE IS UNHAPPY AROUND YOU

Jordan may think I wanted to get back together with her and hang out, but I’ve learned over the years that even if someone makes you happy, you don’t want to be around someone who feels like they’re in a prison.

When someone is unhappy and doesn’t want to spend time with you and can hardly wait to get away from you, that’s not a very healthy relationship.

Although, I would just say that while Jordan may not have liked hanging out with me, I was doing work helping the Planet as a Good Samaritan. It’s where it’s a lonely job.

While people can say they don’t feel like doing this or that because it’s not fun for them, my job was emotionally draining and it would’ve been nice to have someone you could talk to, tell your troubles to, or even just lay your head on their shoulder.

Jordan is born 3/13 like Lois Lane actress Dana Delany as Jordan Shaw.

Imagine if Lois Lane just didn’t feel like being with Superman because he was boring or not fun to be around.

While it may be true Superman was a boring individual, he spent most of his day helping people and saving lives. He was doing a public service and it took a lot out of him emotionally.

It’s nice to have someone like Lois Lane to come home to.

But Superman is who he is. He could never in good conscience keep Lois Lane with him if she was miserable being with him.

It’s painful watching someone you love miserable and where you don’t give them joy when they’re with you in the same way they bring you joy.

If Lois Lane was unhappy, Superman would let her go. Even if it was written in the stars that they were supposed to be together and had an arranged marriage. Superman would let Lois leave and wouldn’t hold her back.

INSTAGRAM “STRANGER THINGS” 3.4 JORDAN LAKE

Screenshot of @strangerthingstv 3.4 at 28 minute mark. #WinonaRyder uncovers the #Electromagnetic Field is around JORDAN Lake. The show is about a real Psychic and a real place.

I met @jordanecraig 9/27 of 2018 before Season 3 7/4 of 2019. If I met #jordanecraig after Season 3 citing Jordan Lake, skeptics would argue I sought out someone named Jordan.

Finale @nbcparksandrec 7.12 aired 2/24 of 2015 before #StrangerThings pointing to the Twin Earthquakes 7/12 of 2019 in WA and CA. I'm ROD from WA now in CA.

CRAIG Middlebrooks meets and marries TYPHOON Montalban played by RODney To. Typhoon is a natural disaster. Earthquake when "Stranger Things" aired 7/4/2019 and 7/12 of 2019 are natural disasters.

BROOK is a RIVER and JORDAN is a RIVER. It says CRAIG MiddleBROOKs (Craig/River Jordan) took over the Parks and Rec Department symbolizing prophecy Jordan did take over my job in the future.

I'm 1980s Generation X Psychic born 5/29 of 1975 whose parent drove a 1983 Green Pinto. Grimshaw vs Ford Motor Company Lawsuit was 5/29 of 1981.

School scenes were filmed at Patrick Henry High School. Patrick Henry was born 5/29.

#ParksAndRecreation Pawnee, Indiana and "Stranger Things" Hawkins, Indiana are the same fictional city.

2002 State Quarter is Indiana. Jordan Craig is born 3/13 in Pisces as a Water Sign. #KristySwanson as "J. Craig" in 2002 film "Silence" as #BuffyTheVampireSlayer had the last name SWANSON for Ron SWANSON in "Parks and Rec." This info validates her because she manifests in "Parks and Recreation" and "Stranger Things." Jordan may serve as mediator settling disputes between world leaders who may try to talk down to Jordan because they don't want a young female half their age telling them what to do. This ties to #NickBostrom and book #SimulationHypothesis by #RizwanVirk about being in a computer simulation.

CHINA's CORONA virus outbreak hitting WA 1st followed by CA and TX is creating urgency. I'm 1/8 CHINESE who drove 1977 Toyota CORONA in WA and now in CA. Jordan is in TEXAS.

When diseases like the #Coronavirus threaten the population, you can't afford to be as picky about solutions.

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gw-frozen-yogurt · 7 years

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*art by the amazing Kevin Wada*

When you watch Gundam Wing, you start noticing a really huge thing.

This is a world where the poor and the oppressed have gone off to space in search for a new life, while the ruling classes have been left to rot on Earth in a stew of tradition and stagnation.

The characters of Earth are white; the characters from space are mostly people of color.

(First off, disclaimer: it’s a goddam shame that mostly all of the characters are coded as white regardless of their background. And also- WHERE ARE THE BLACK PEOPLE? Anime is largely shit at depicting any race other than the “default,” which, interestingly enough, depends on who’s watching it. I don’t remember my first watch all that much, but I bet I thought Heero was white (or likely, I didn’t even think about his race at all, since he looked “white”), while the Japanese have no trouble accepting Heero as Japanese. Still, the following essay is a bit of conjecture that largely doesn’t matter in the actual series. It’s not a show about race relations or the plight of minorities. But the creators did make it clear what race each character is, which indicates that race is just as big a factor in the future of AC 195 as it is today.)

Let’s review the backgrounds of our main characters, the Gundam pilots. 3 out of 5 are POC, and the other 2 are unclear (but probably white).

1) Heero: Everyone thinks Heero is Japanese, but he’s actually listed as a Nikkeijin, which just means Japanese heritage. It makes more sense now that he's a blue-eyed Japanese, seeing as it's canon now his father is Odin Lowe. In Japan, citizenship and ethnicity are inescapably linked, as 99% of Japanese citizens are of Japanese ancestry, and most people born to Japanese immigrants abroad are considered “Nikkeijin” even if they are 100% Japanese in ethnicity. It could be that Japan no longer exists on this version of Earth, or that the L1 colonies are no longer considered a part of Japan. 2) Duo: Listed as a descendent of American settlers of the L2 colonies. Duo reads pretty white to me, but he could be anything really, seeing as American is not an ethnicity (unfortunately, most Japanese equate American with being white). 3) Trowa: Listed as unknown. Trowa also reads white to me, but many sources list him as Latin. I don’t think that’s canon, but I like the idea, which could give a wide variety of backgrounds. My head-canon is he's Latin American (and not actually related to Catherine Bloom), just because there aren't any South American representatives in Gundam Wing. 4) Quatre: Listed as Middle Eastern, though he's also biracial with his mother being French. However, I know they were going for a Lawrence of Arabia vibe with Quatre (the only white person in a sea of brown faces), so it’s kind of ridiculous to applaud him as some awesome representation of a main character of Arabic origin...I’m conflicted on that. I do love seeing representations of him with darker skin and fair hair. I also love how the most gentle and sensitive of the pilots is a Middle Eastern boy. Can you imagine a character like Quatre today? 5) Wufei: Pretty interestingly, he's listed as “Chuugokujin,” which in Japanese refers both to both Chinese ethnicity and citizenship (It can certainly refer to just ethnicity, but as Heero was referred to as a Nikkeijin, I thought this was an interesting comparison). China as a country still exists in Gundam Wing’s world (we do it see a portion of it when Sally meets Wufei), and the culture of the L5 colony still closely resembles its origin point, unlike the other colonies which don’t contain those sorts of cultural markers.

Now let’s look at the Earth-based characters. Relena: White Zechs: White Noin: White Treize: White Dorothy: White The whole of the Romafeller Foundation: White

(Of the Earth characters, only Sally Po is a quarter Chinese, and Lady Une is unknown if I recally correctly. The only time you clearly encounter people of color on Earth is when Duo and Quatre take refuge in the Maguanac village around episode 12-13, and when Wufei and Sally are fighting in China around that time as well. And those people are extremely oppressed by the ruling OZ regime)

They hit the point home hard with those formal outfits. The Earth characters look like they’re from the 18th century, the age of European imperialism. Why would a society regress to this?

I believe this regression is the reason for minority flight to outer space. Or maybe, because minorities started to flee to space, society regressed back to this point.

I think there were some horrific tragedies on Earth in the time since the space colonies were founded. America is a non-player in the Gundam Wing universe - what happened to the global hegemon of the 21st century? Earth is ruled by European interests, and the only places you see in America are military bases. The same thing with Japan, China, most of Africa. You never get to see how the little people live on Earth, even though the scenes on the colonies are chock full of people living their lives.

My head-canon is there may have been a huge global war on Earth at some point. There may have been a huge economic depression. Perhaps it was the colonies that sparked this off, as building these massive satellites must have taken so many resources and energy. I can see China, Japan, the USA competing to build their colonies, fighting for resources until an ultimate resource war. Then European interests may have banded together to prevent more fighting from happening, ultimately crushing weakened countries in order to get them under control.

During this strife, the poor and working classes may have traveled to space for a better life than on Earth. And that would be mostly non-white people.

In this vision of humanity’s future, humans were once again being crushed by powerful land owners in Europe who thought they were superior. It’s no wonder these countries looked to space to regain their power.

In a way, Gundam Wing is about the struggle of the poor and the minorities to break free from the ruling classes, the capitalist top of society. They're trying to make a new life in the colonies, and the Earth is dragging them backwards.

And it is the members of those oppressed classes that end up saving humanity in the end.

#gwrewatch2017 #gundam wing

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wiggimus · 7 years

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My journey through a shitty album...

Metallica's St. Anger. For years, I described how much I absolutely fucking hated it, despite the fact that I never actually heard it. So I decided to actually hear it. The whole fucking thing.

*deep breath*

Let's do this...

"Frantic"

The opening track to an album is everything. It (usually) lets the listener know exactly what they're getting for the rest of their audio journey. In that, Frantic succeeds. It lets you know you're drinking a cup of shit. A cup that's an hour and fifteen minutes deep.

The song opens up very confusingly. The guitars are very simplistic. This wouldn't be so bad on its own, because songs like Pantera's "Walk" or Disturbed's "Down with the Sickness" make simple sound great. But here, it's too simple. It sounds like the result of waking someone up from a deep sleep, handing them a guitar and screaming "PLAY SOMETHING METALISH! NOW! RIGHT NOW!" until they did. The way the drums equate almost feels like it was doing its best, but without trying above the guitar's level of effort. It honestly sounds like the music was written by a child. Not just any child; a child that had never actually heard any Metallica. A child that overheard people talking about Metallica (complete with vocalizing riffs and such) and tried writing what the child thought was a Metallica song based on what those people said.

Lyrically, it's a fucking mess. At first, I gave off this confused "Okayyyyy...". Mostly because you kind of see where they're going, but they fall just short of truly making sense. I'm tempted to say they drop off after "You live it or lie it", or even "My lifestyle determines my deathstyle" *shudder*, but definitively, it's when he actually sings "Fran-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic tock". He tries SO HARD to sell that terrible fucking line. And it's not even like he says it once or twice. No, it's THE SONG'S HOOK! THAT FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF LYRICAL AFTERBIRTH IS MEANT TO CARRY THE SONG! Amazingly, the embarrassment doesn't end there. Not at all. On top of that, the more he says it, the worse the delivery. I don't know if he's trying to growl or scream it, but it comes out just sounding messy and shameful. I swear, if any other band tried "singing" like that, it would get rejected so quickly. Well, unless the singer had enough money to get the studio to shut the fuck up and call it a successful take.

Ugh. Now I have to take a shit.

"St. Anger"

I'm actually going to start this off on a positive note!

*gasp*, *collapse*

Right? I did that at first, too! Anyhoo, here it is: the video to this is awesome. No, really, go look it up. It's Metallica playing a set for the inmates at San Quentin. It does a good job at looking at the prisoners in a more realistic, down-to-earth light, portraying them as real people who were handed shitty cards in life rather than the scum of society. Plus, the guard makes the band verbally agree to an awesome disclaimer in the beginning of the video, which is a plus.

Okay, no more positives. This song blows. It sounds unfinished. The difference between the verses and the rest of the song is jarring. Hearing the intro just makes you breathe "Uh oh..." under your breath. The drums are obnoxious and overbearing and all the stringed instruments sound half-assed. When it kicks in stronger, it sounds so disorganized, like the stringed instruments are all trying to play over each other in an attempt to be heard over the drums. Then out of nowhere, it switches to what sounds like what was supposed to be an entirely different song. The verses DO NOT match the intro AT ALL.

These fucking lyrics. They're... awful. Just... awful. He repeats the same 3 or 4 lines far too many times. Not only that, each line is either painfully weak or excessively shameful. It all culminates in what is easily one of the absolute worst lines I've ever heard in any metal song I've heard in all my 33 years: "I'm madly in anger with you!". Who fucking thought that would be a good lyric? That's something a person would say if their grasp on the English language was shaky at best. Seriously, if someone didn't know how to say "laundry detergent", but instead said "shampoo for clothes", that type of weak grasp of English would be required to say "I'm madly in anger with you" in serious context.

Fuck this song.

"Some Kind of Monster"

This is the type of song you would only say is good when you wanna be nice to that one person you know who is in that band that really wants you to like them. This whole song is just plain messy. You can tell the people involved have more to offer, but they're just not. This is the first song that actually tries to sound Metallica-y, but it just weighted down by suck and effortlessness.

Instrumentally, this stands a little above the first 2 tracks in the sense that they're not constantly grating. For the most part, they're just meh. But the end of the song is bad. It tries for some top string, nu-metal-ish thing that just falls flat.

The lyrics combine "St. Anger"'s repetition with the cringe you get from "Frantic". Do you know happy I was that no one was around to hear me listen to this? I'd have been less embarrassed to have been caught with my dick in a stuffed animal.

"Dirty Window"

Not even 5 seconds in, I paused this, facepalmed and asked "What the fuck am I doing?" rhetorically. Immediately, it sounds like that band you humored by saying you liked "Some Kind of Monster" says "Yay! I have another one!" and you just respond with a resounding "FUUUUUUUUCK!!!"

On YouTube, there is a sketch from the British comedy show A Bit of Frye & Laurie where the two invent a subgenre called "light metal", which they sell as "heavy metal, but without all the weight". "Dirty Window" is the light metal version of a Metallica song. It's so "safe". It's metal suitable for kindergarten.

I am 100% convinced that James Hetfield had no hand in writing these lyrics. I do not believe it. If anyone says otherwise, I will tell them they're lying. There is no way an adult man wrote these. Nevermind the same man who penned "Fade to Black", "Hero of the Day" and "One". You can take their entire discography out of the picture. I am not convinced that an adult man who has fathered children, gotten married, bought a house, gotten a driver's license and pays bills on time wrote the words he sings in this song. Not at all. My daughter, who is currently only 6 years of age, would write these words. Her classmates would write these words. A teenager waking up from a month-long coma would write these words. ANYONE ELSE WOULD FUCKING TRY HARDER!

Luckily, it's the 2nd shortest song on the album. But, we go on to the 2nd longest...

"Invisible Kid"

Whoa... The opening riff... isn't bad? It's not great, but it's certainly the best this album has offered to this point!

Actually, this track features the least-worst music to this point, aside from blatantly stealing from "Frantic" at one point. It fluctuates between being tolerable and decent. You could actually see a crowd getting into it. Not a big crowd, but about 30 or 40 people. The drums still do that annoying snare-love bullshit, but they're not overbearing like in the previous 4 tracks. In fact, I might learn how to play this one day!

Fuck you, Hetfield! The moment you start singing, you ruin everything this song had going! It's like you dropped pubes into my cereal after I watched you yank them out! In his defense, the lyrics don't sound juvenile. Nope, here, they sound emo. Here's an example: "Invisible kid/never see what he did/got stuck where he hid/fallen through the grid". That's just the opening line. It gets worse from there! Fucking worse! Not even in just lyrical content, but also in delivery. What amazes me is that people let this happen. I can only imagine that the people who were helping record this album on the technical side must have felt like the film crew watching George Lucas make The Phantom Menace. They knew they were enabling pure shit but didn't (couldn’t?) stop it. I fucking hate every vocal aspect of this song. Before, the lyrics were childish, so you could go "Haha! Can you believe he said that?". But here, the words are awful, the delivery is awkward and the quality just sinks like a stone the longer the song continues.

I think the fact that the music is okay makes the whole song far worse.

"My World"

Fuck! Not only does this intro give me flashbacks to "Dirty Window", it's making me realize I already have flashbacks to "Dirty Window" Fuck! Well, actually, the main riff sounds like "St. Anger" with a tad more effort.

Is there a word that means "serviceable, but ignorable"? I'm too lazy to look it up. Either way, that word describes the music. Literally, I just finished listening to the song and I can't fucking remember how it goes. No, really, I paused it right after the song ended, started typing this and I can't remember a damn thing, other than that I don't remember hating it or anything. I know it has "St. Anger" vibes in the beginning, but not through the whole thing.

Well, the lyrics go right back to being childish. I bet you that they're written in crayon, on a piece of construction paper, hanging on a refrigerator by a magnet. But I'd say that this was written by a kid of about 8 or 9 who is starting to really discover swearing, but before they get all X-Box Live about it. It made me facepalm more than once, but brought me close to genuine laughter at its awkward uses of "motherfucker" and "son of a bitch". Mind you, I'm unopposed to vulgarity, but make it feel natural. There's one line that could easily be misheard as "give mama head", which is this album's unintentional greatest gift to music. Other than that, there's nothing good to be derived from this. It even joins "Frantic" on the Reasons Why James Hetfield Shouldn't Scream list.

"Shoot Me Again"

There are one-word descriptions for these songs. "St. Anger" is incomplete, "My World" is forgettable, etc. "Shoot Me Again" is directionless. The intro alone sounds like pieces of 3 different bad songs. The main riff sounds like Metallica's impression of KoRn. The verses sound like Metallica's impression of Staind.

Even more, if you played each instrument indivually, it sounds like each one is playing its own genre of music. Well, more like its own metal subgenre, but still, like a few different corpses Frankenstein'ed together. At one point, I honestly thought the song ended, so I started typing out my thoughts on the following track, but then it cuts back to "All the shots I taaaaaaake!". If that was supposed to be a breakdown, they need to listen to some Psychostick on how properly breakdown.

The vocals are just dumb. Yeah, they're childish and stuff, but overall, they're dumb and full of needless swearing.

"Sweet Amber"

Oh no. Don't do it. Don't you do it, St. Anger! You're not that good an album! Don't try for a slow, emotional song! Oh... you... listened to me? But then why was the intro all soft and clean? Fuck. Whatever. At least the following riff is okay.

Actually, if I'm not mistaken, this may be the least-worst song on the album. Musically, at least. It's better than "Invisible Kid". I know that's like saying a sunburn is better than an acid burn, but better is still better. Don't get me wrong, it's still pretty bad, but in comparison to what I heard to get here, it's at least tolerable.

But again, the lyrics ruin what was potentially a good song! Fuck the words and fuck the delivery. They're not "Invisible Kid" bad, but they suuuuuuuuuuck.

"The Unnamed Feeling"

Bland. Bland bland bland. The intro to this song is just so BLAND. Fucking emote. You're Metallica. Act like you want the listener to feel something! There is a name for my feeling: it's BOREDOM. Well, I'm bored until it takes a Mudvayne turn. Then I'm confused. Well, Mudvayne without the amazing drums and bass.

Overall, the music stays boring. So. Boring. This is just like "My World" where I can't remember the rhythm to this song AT ALL. It's so forgettable. All I can really recall is that the song just ends. It just drops. That's it.

To Hetfield's credit, these are possibly his "best" lyrics on the whole album. But I used the quotation marks because they're still bad, just not bad enough to make me piss myself in shame & regret. He swears again here, but it actually feels natural, as though it was a natural progression of the song for the f-bombs to reach that point.

"Purify"

Huh. An intro with energy. Dare I say, an impressive intro? No, wait, I'm stupid. It reverts right back into suck territory. Thanks for getting my hopes up...

Metallica doesn't wear nu-metal well. They just don't. Believe me, I actually like some nu-metal, but not this. This just sounds weak. That's all I have. It's weak. Moving on...

Okay, so I'm guessing Hetfield wanted to write lyrics in KoRn's style, but without the crying and the begging for hugs. Yet another song that goes on the Reasons Why James Hetfield Shouldn't Scream list. The lyrics & delivery aren't as overwhelmingly terrible like the rest of the album, but they're not redeemable in any sense of the word. They're just not good.

Thankfully, this is the shortest song on the album. But the next one is the longest *sobs*

"All Within My Hands"

I once started watching The Bourne Supremacy. You know, the one without Matt Damon. I got about 30 minutes into it but stopped once I realized that I asked "What is the point?" after about a dozen times. I felt that exact same feeling after only 1 minute into this song. That's only 1/9 of the total time of the track! I shouldn't feel so checked out so quickly. But I'm powering through this. It's the last track. I'm almost there...

Okay, so the music would probably be more interesting from a different band. If I heard an indie band play it with different lyrics, I'd probably like it. It has energy and power. I even bobbed my head to it once or twice. Shit, I may actually learn this song too one day. Maybe. I have a lot of Zelda music to learn first. Except for the fact that the last note played is so dissonant and awful. It's like kicking someone annoying out of your house, but they take a shit on your floor right before leaving.

I guess Hetfield's approach was to remind everyone the name of the song he was playing, because he repeats it to no end. The delivery is actually pretty good, but the actual words he recorded just suck. I need to listen to this again in the future to count how many times he says the song's name, because it must be at least 50. Honestly, try saying "All Within My Hands" 50 times in a span of 9 minutes. You'll piss yourself off, nevermind anyone else stuck listening to you. At the end of the song, he repeats the word "kill" in a way that made me chuckle. It reminded me of Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

...

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I'M DONE. I will never do that again. Fuck this album. Seriously, I think that aged me. That 75 minutes felt like 150. I am beyond thankful that they followed this up with Death Magnetic. Could you imagine if this was the last album Metallica ever released? I would be so sad! I would feel so bad for them for the rest of my life. In fact, Death Magnetic just got so much better for me. Knowing they went from St. Shit to a modern masterpiece like Death Magnetic just makes their 2008 (holy shit!) release seem like the sweetest nectar from Mount Olympus.

#Wiggimus #text post #long post #Metallica #St. Anger #album #reviews #random thoughts #metal #nu metal #endurance #sorry for the rant #I've been wanting to post this for a while #1000th post

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k18fics · 7 years

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Oh Brother (2)

Oh Brother Summary: A series of k18 one shots with an over-laying plot. Also featuring GCC, BV, GoVi, and more. Warning: general warning about the rating. Some chapters in this story will contain mature language, violent scenes, and adult situations. It is not recommended for anyone under 18 (not that I can stop you if you choose to read anyways.) I will warn you in advance so you can skip those scenes if you so prefer. Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ/S/GT or any of its characters. 2. Marron Saves the World

18 looked at Krillin wearily as the short warrior tied Marron's shoes. "Are you sure about this Krillin?" Krillin chuckled. "Of course 18, he did save the world a bunch of times, I think he can handle hanging out with Marron for the day." "What would they even do?" "I don't know, I just want them to bond you know," Krillin said. "He's the only family I've got." 18 smiled at him and said, "I know." Krillin stood up and said, "he's here." Moments later Goku appeared in the middle of the living room holding two of his fingers to his forehead. 18 still found it uncanny that Krillin could sense him when he did instant transmission. Not even Vegeta could sense him until after he performed the technique. "Hi!" Goku said cheerfully waving at them. "Hey Goku," Krillin said. "Uncle Goku!" Marron cried running to the Saiyan who lifted her into his arms as she clung to his neck. "Hi Marron," he said. "You ready for our day?" "What are you gonna do?" 18 said. "I'm gonna take her to the carnival," Goku said cheerfully. "Yay!" Marron cried happily. "Well have fun you two," Krillin said. "Don't bring her back too late," 18 said. "Okie doke!" Goku said cheerfully placing two fingers on his forehead. "Bye!" "Byyyyee!" Marron shouted right before she and Goku disappeared completely. They both appeared right in the middle of a giant fair but not any regular fair. The ground was an unnatural orange color and it looked like grass but the blades all pointed in different directions. The sky was not blue but pink and all the people around them varied in species. Some of them were odd looking creatures, some of them had halos over their heads, some of them spoke different languages, and many of them were flying or slithering in some way. "What is this place Uncle Goku?" Marron said. "This is a planet called Mekka," Goku said. "When I learned the instant transmission technique I was trying to get back to earth and I accidentally ended up here and I had a lot of fun. This is a neutral planet in this solar system where any creatures from the eight surrounding planets can come have fun and some of them can visit from other world, see the ones with the halos?" "You had one of those when I first met you," Marron said. "Yes." "So they are dead?" Marron said. Goku smiled at the intelligence of the little girl. He was immensely stronger than Krillin but Krillin was smarter than he could ever hope to be. He could see a lot of Krillin in Marron and he liked that. "Yeah they are dead," Goku said, "but save up their energy so they can visit here. This planet is at the border of a dimension rift so they can come here easier." "Okay," Marron said though Goku was sure the little girl understood the concept way more than Goten did. "What do you want to get on first?" ... As the day progressed the pair had gotten on nearly every ride and Goku won for her every single toy she desired. They were walking towards the petting zoo of animals that were definitely not from earth when they were stopped by a tall chameleon looking humanoid who had a small version of himself perched on his shoulder. "Goku!" Goku looked stunned. "Lepo?" "Hmm it's been a while," Lepo said. "Ever since we were learning the instant transmission technique together." Goku nodded. "It's been a long time." "I never forgot how you beat me in everything we did there," Lepo said bitterly. Goku scratched his head and laughed sheepishly. "Who's this? Your daughter?" "No she's my..." "This my son Lepi," Lepo said proudly. "I bet he's better than your kid." Goku looked serious. "I don't want to compete Lepo." It was a rare thing for Goku to say but he learned from the last time he competed against Lepo. "Let's raise the stakes," Lepo said. "Lepo no!" Goku's words went unheard as Lepo took out a small black remote and pressed the button. The remote beeped and a robotic voice said, "bomb armed. Please set coordinates." "Bomb? What are you..." "Coordinates planet Earth." "Lepo!" The remote beeped and said, "coordinates set, 10 minutes to detonation." Goku crouched into a fighting stance. "Turn it off. Now!" "Only if you compete with me," Lepo said. "I'm here to have fun not fight Lepo, please just turn it off." "You have to prove to me that your daughter is better than my son," Lepo said, "and I'll turn off the bomb." "She's not my...." Goku was interrupted again when Lepo set his son down on the ground and pointed to the petting zoo gate. "A footrace." "And if she loses will you still turn off the bomb?" Goku said. "No your planet is not worth saving then," Lepo said. Goku growled in annoyance not knowing what else to do. If he told him Marron was not his daughter Lepo wouldn't turn off the bomb and he wasn't like Bulma who could probably figure out how to shut it off without Lepo's help. Goku crouched down and gripped Marron's shoulders, "are you ready?" Marron seemed to understand everything and set her face in determination. Goku smiled at how much she looked like Krillin when he was a child. It was the same face he made when he fought Bacterium in their very first world tournament. Marron stood beside Lepo's son who was smirking confidently. "A girl? Hmph." Marron thought about her mother at that moment. She has heard all the stories about how her mother and beat up all of the Z fighters when she first appeared and how to this day her dad and Yamcha and Tien didn't stand a chance against her. She was a girl but she was strong. Marron suddenly decided she didn't like this boy. He was probably faster than her though because she could never catch up to Goten and Trunks when they were playing. She had to think of another way to win or she would lose. "Hey," Marron said softly a blush adorning her cheeks. "You're real cute." Lepo's son look stricken as his face turned beet red. Lepo was unaware of his son's embarrassment but Goku smirked because she really was Krillin and 18's daughter, 18 had used her feminine wiles to paralyze Krillin on that highway and Krillin had nearly beat Jackie Chun by distracting him with a pair of panties. Marron knew she wouldn't beat this kid and she outsmarted him. "On your mark, get set...GO!" Lepo cried. Marron zoomed off as fast as she could as Lepo's son remained stationary still stunned from the compliment. Goku cheered Marron on as she got closer to the gate. "Lepi! Go!!!" Lepo screeched shoving his son roughly. The little boy seemed to snap out of it and zoomed towards the gate but he would never catch up even though he was as fast as any Saiyan. Marron touched the gate mere seconds before Lepi did. "Haha!" Goku cheered. "We won! Now turn off the bomb." Lepo looked deflated but he took out the remote and pressed the button. "Bomb deactivated," it said. Lepi glared at Marron angrily as she cheered beside him. She noticed that and gently kisses him on the cheek. His face turned beet red again. "It's okay to lose you know, eventually you'll win it big, just ask my dad." Lepi sneered. "Goku never loses." "Uh, Uncle Goku is not my dad." Both Lepi and Lepo screeched, "WHAT?!" Goku flew to Marron and picked her up, then turned to them nervously and said, "okay then bye!" He hurriedly rushed into the petting zoo before they could respond. "That was really fun Uncle Goku," Marron said with a smile. "You fought smart Marron, good job," Goku said hugging the girl close. "You saved the world!" Marron beamed. "I'm very proud of you kiddo," Goku said cheerfully. Marron hugged him tight. Goku laughed and hugged her back then set her down so they could enjoy the petting zoo. ... Goku arrived a bit after midnight to Krillin's home holding a very sleepy Marron in his arms. She wasn't asleep quite yet but she was on the verge. Krillin and 18 were both asleep on the couch cuddling together with the TV running. Krillin didn't have a shirt on and 18 didn't have pants and the rest of their clothes and their hair was a mess. Goku had done that enough times with Chichi to know exactly what had happened. Marron was none the wiser though and immediately made their presence known. "We're home!" 18 was up first since she was a light sleeper. When Goku smirked at her she blushed and immediately grabbed her pajama pants from the floor. Krillin woke up more slowly and didn't quite see his wife's embarrassment. He smiled at them and said, "hi guys." "Do you have any idea what time it is Goku!" 18 snapped taking Marron from his arms. "She has a bedtime." "Sorry we were just having so much fun," Goku said with an innocent chuckle. "Mommy I saved the world!" Marron said. Goku started sweating nervously as 18 glared at him questioningly. "I'm glad you had fun," Krillin said joining them while slipping on his shirt. "Well good night!" Goku said quickly putting his fingers on his forehead and disappearing into the night.

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